#AmericanWriters #PoemsOfPower
How terrible these nights are when… With our scarred hearts, we sit in… And some old sorrow, to the world… Does suddenly with silent steps in… After the guests departed, and the…
Oh many a duel the world has seen That was bitter with hate, that wa… But I sing of a duel by far more… Than ever a poet was sung before. It was waged by night, yea by day…
In England, there are wrongs no d… Which should be righted; so men sa… Who seek to weed earth’s garden ou… And give the roses right of way; Yes, right of way, to fruit and ro…
’Tis not the untried soldier new t… Who fears to enter into active str… Amidst the roll of drums, the cann… He craves adventure, and thinks no… But the scarred vetran knows the p…
I and new love, in all its living… Sat vis-à-vis, while tender twilig… Went softly by us, treading as on… Then suddenly I saw within the ro… The old love, long since lying in…
Today I had a burial of my dead. There was no shroud, no coffin, an… No prayers were uttered and no tea… I only turned a picture to the wal… A picture that had hung within my…
You will be what you will to be; Let failure find its false content In that poor word “environment,” But spirit scorns it, and is free. It masters time, it conquers space…
The bold young Autumn came riding… One day where an elm-tree grew. ‘You are fair,’ he said, as she be… ‘Too fair for your robe’s dull hue… You are far too young for a garb s…
The woman he loved, while he dream… Danced on till the stars grew dim, But alone with her heart, from the… Sat the woman who loved him. The woman he worshipped only smile…
I will paint you a sign, rumseller… And hang it above your door; A truer and better signboard Than ever you had before. I will paint with the skill of a m…
‘The maiden free, the maiden wed. Can never, never be the same, A new life springs from out the de… And with the speaking of a name– A breath upon the marriage bed,
Were I man grown, I’d stand With clean heart, soul, and hand, An honor to this land. I would be good and true. I would not
‘He that hath an ear, let him hear… St. John the Divine. The Spirit says unto the churches… ‘Ere ever the churches began I lived in the centre of Being–
The Day has never understood the… Though sired by one Creative Powe… The White Man ever fails to read… Though from the self-same Source… So deep and wide, the Great Divid…
Oh, boastful, wicked land, that on… How bitter and how black must be y… While Time goes down the centurie… Time’s voice is just. His words r… The clear-eyed Future slowly writ…