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Denise Levertov

Denise Levertov

Intrusion

After I had cut off my hands
and grown new ones
 
something my former hands had longed for
came and asked to be rocked.
 
After my plucked out eyes
had withered, and new ones grown
 
something my former eyes had wept for
came asking to be pitied.

#English #Women

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Autres oeuvres par Denise Levertov...
Seeing for a Moment

I thought I was growing wings— it was a cocoon. I thought, now is the time to step into the fire— it was deep water.
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Settling

I was welcomed here—clear gold of late summer, of opening autumn, the dawn eagle sunning himself on… the mountain revealing herself unc… tinted apricot as she looked west,
A Tree Telling of Orpheus

White dawn. Stillness. When… I took it for a sea-wind, coming t… of salt, of treeless horizons. but… didn’t stir; the leaved of my brot… unmoving.
September 1961

This is the year the old ones, the old great ones leave us alone on the road. The road leads to the sea. We have the words in our pockets,
To Live in the Mercy of God

To lie back under the tallest oldest trees. How far the stems rise, rise before ribs of shelter open!
February Evening in New York

As the stores close, a winter ligh… opens air to iris blue, glint of frost through the smoke grains of mica, salt of the sidewa… As the buildings close, released a…
Matins

The authentic! Shadows of it sweep past in dreams, one could sa… evoking the almost-silent ripping apart of giant sheets of cellophane. No.
An Embroidery

Rose Red’s hair is brown as fur and shines in firelight as she pre… supper of honey and apples, curds… for the bear, and leaves it ready on the hearth-stone.
Making Peace

A voice from the dark called out, “The poets must give us imagination of peace, to oust the… imagination of disaster. Peace, no… the absence of war.”
Variation on a Theme by Rilke

A certain day became a presence to… there it was, confronting me—a sky… a being. And before it started to… from the height of noon, it leaned… and struck my shoulder as if with
 1
Goodbye to Tolerance

Genial poets, pink-faced earnest wits— you have given the world some choice morsels, gobbets of language presented
The Sage

The cat is eating the roses: that’s the way he is. Don’t stop him, don’t stop the world going round, that’s the way things are.
Hypocrite Women

Hypocrite women, how seldom we spe… of our own doubts, while dubiously we mother man in his doubt! And if at Mill Valley perched in… the sweet rain drifting through we…
What Were They Like?

Did the people of Viet Nam use lanterns of stone? Did they hold ceremonies to reverence the opening of buds? Were they inclined to quiet laught…
To the Snake

Green Snake, when I hung you roun… and stroked your cold, pulsing thr… as you hissed to me, glinting arrowy gold scales, and I felt the weight of you on my shoulders,



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