Morning, a glass door, flashes
Gold names off the new city,
Whose white shelves and domes travel
The slow sky all day.
I land to stay here;
And the windows flock open
And the curtains fly out like doves
And a past dries in a wind.
Now let me lie down, under
A wide-branched indifference,
Shovel-faces like pennies
Down the back of the mind,
Find voices coined to
An argot of motor-horns,
And let the cluttered-up houses
Keep their thick lives to themselves.
For this ignorance of me
Seems a kind of innocence.
Fast enough I shall wound it:
Let me breathe till then
Its milk-aired Eden,
Till my own life impound it-
Slow-falling; grey-veil-hung; a theft,
A style of dying only.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Pequeña niña mía by Mara Romero Torres
- Sappho To Her Girlfriends by Sappho
- Call To Account! by Vladimir Mayakovsky
- Lucky by Thomas Lux
- M for Man, Money and Moon by Raj Arumugam
- Everybody’s Makin’ It Big But Me by Shel Silverstein
- From The Woolworth Tower by Sara Teasdale
- A Riddle Song. by Walt Whitman
- Haiku by Robby Charters
- Владимир Высоцкий – Неужто здесь сошёлся клином свет
- From Marinero en tierra by Rafael Alberti
- A Hymn To Venus by Sappho
- Manifestations by Tom Shea
- Sonnet (XI) : I know me and I do believe in the causation by Neelam Sinha
- Heartbreak at 2 A.M. poem – Yuvraj Johri poems | Poetry Monster
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
Philip Arthur Larkin (1922-1985), Commander of the Order of the British Empire, a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature, Cavalier of the Order of the Companions of Honour, was an English poet, novelist, and librarian.