This page contains the selected poems for ENC 1102.1729. I suggest that you print them out so that you can annotate them as you read through them. Each entry contains the following items:
Don't forget the appropriate poetry terms on the Terms list site!
anyone lived in a pretty how town | |
(with up so floating many bells down) | |
spring summer autmun winter | |
he sang his didn't he danced his did. |
Women and men (both little and small) | |
cared for anyone not at all | |
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same | |
sun moon stars rain |
children guessed (but only a few | |
and down they forgot as up they grew | |
autumn winter spring summer) | |
that noone loved him more by more |
when by now and tree by leaf | |
she laughed his joy she cried his grief | |
bird by snow and stir by still | |
anyone's any was all to her |
someones married their everyones | |
laughed their cryings and did their dance | |
(sleep wake hope and then) they | |
said their nevers they slept their dream | |
stars rain sun moon | |
(and only the snow can begin to explain | |
how children are apt to forget to remember | |
with up so floating many bells down) |
one day anyone died i guess | |
(and noone stooped to kiss his face) | |
busy folk buried them side by side | |
little by little and was by was |
all by all and deep by deep | |
and more by more they dream their sleep | |
noone and anyone earth by april | |
wish by spirit and if by yes. |
Women and men (both dong and ding) | |
summer autmun winter spring | |
reaped their sowing and went their came | |
sun moon stars rain |
Anthology of American Literature, Volume II: Realism to the Present. 4 ed. Ed. George McMichael. New York: Macmillan, 1989. 1211.
I've stayed in the front yard all my life. | |
I want a peek at the back | |
Where it's rough and untended and hungry weed grows | |
A girl gets sick of a rose. |
I want to go in the back yard now | |
And maybe down the alley, | |
To where the charity children play. | |
I want a good time today. |
They do some wonderful things. | |
They have some wonderful fun. | |
My mother sneers but I say it's fine | |
How they don't have to go in at quarter to nine. | |
My mother, she tells me that Johnnie Mae | |
Will grow up to be a bad woman. | |
That George'll be taken to Jail soon or late | |
(On account of last winter he sold our back gate). |
But I say it's fine. Honest, I do. | |
And I'd like to be a bad woman, too, | |
And wear the brave stockings of night-black lace | |
And strut down the street with paint on my face. | |
Selected Poems. New York: Harper and Row, 1963.6.
I'm Nobody! Who are you? | |
Are you -- Nobody -- Too? | |
Then there's a pair of us! | |
don't tell! they'd advertise -- you know! |
How dreary -- to be -- Somebody! | |
How public -- like a Frog -- | |
To tell one's name -- the livelong June -- | |
To an admiring Bog! |
I heard a Fly buzz -- when I died -- | |
The Stillness in the Room | |
Was like the Stillness in the Air -- | |
Between the Heaves of Storm -- |
The Eyes around -- had wrung them dry -- | |
And Breaths were gathering firm | |
For that last Onset -- when the King | |
Be witnesed -- in the Room -- |
I willed my Keepsakes -- Signed away | |
What portion of me be | |
Assignable -- and then it was | |
There interposed a Fly-- |
With Blue -- uncertain stumbling Buzz -- | |
Between the light -- and me -- | |
And then the Windows failed -- and then | |
I could not see to see -- |
A Dimple in the Tomb | |
Makes that ferocious Room | |
A Home -- |