| Search Results (65 records found) |
Poems found: |
Mixed Mode by Geoffrey G. O'Brien The experience of leaving
|
Three Seasons by Geoffrey G. O'Brien The winter, it was the winter all
|
The Present Writer by Coner O'Callaghan answers questions vaguely, as if from distance
|
Shoal of Sharks by Richard O'Connell Oh, look at all the porpoise! someone shouted
|
Someone by Dennis O'Driscoll someone is dressing up for death today
|
Vegetable-Life by Ned O'Gorman Where the pulp lifts its germ and the sludge of beauty sighs
|
Panther by Ned O'Gorman When the panther came
|
Peace, after Long Madness by Ned O'Gorman After a long madness peace is an assassin
|
Poem [Lana Turner has collapsed!] by Frank O'Hara Lana Turner has collapsed!
|
The Day Lady Died by Frank O'Hara It is 12:20 in New York a Friday
|
To the Film Industry in Crisis by Frank O'Hara Not you, lean quarterlies and swarthy periodicals
|
Meditations in an Emergency by Frank O'Hara Am I to become profligate as if I were a blonde
|
Why I Am Not a Painter by Frank O'Hara I am not a painter, I am a poet
|
Personal Poem by Frank O'Hara
|
Ave Maria by Frank O'Hara Mothers of America
|
On Seeing Larry Rivers' Washington Crossing the Delaware at the Museum of Modern Art by Frank O'Hara Now that our hero has come back to us
|
Stonemason by James O'Hern My stonemason John says
|
The Rosetta Stone for Birdcalls by Peter O'Leary is the Rosetta Stone for Human Suffering
|
Portrait of Madame Monet on Her Deathbed by Mary Rose O'Reilley He will paint her again as grain
|
Passover by Mary Rose O'Reilley I know we are bound to the earth
|
Speaking In Tongues by Mary Rose O'Reilley I go to church every Sunday
|
The White Rose by John Boyle O'Reilly The red rose whispers of passion
|
Troy by Meghan O'Rourke We had a drink and got in bed
|
October 27, 1989 by Ed Ochester He was in a hotel in Baltimore
|
Voices by Sharon Olds Our voices race to the towers, and up beyond
|
Take the I Out by Sharon Olds But I love the I, steel I-beam
|
Everyone Gasps with Anxiety by Jeni Olin The new aspirin is a blue-blooded Burberry model
|
A Good Year Down by Jeni Olin New York will not accept me at this weight
|
In Aporia by Akilah Oliver I'm trying on ego, [a justification for the planet's continuance]. Oh
|
Bedside by William Olsen Because it turns out the world really is a hospital
|
The First Place (somewhere outside Eden) by Kurt S. Olsson Listen. It was wrong from the beginning.
|
[white spring] by Lisa Olstein I am working on a specimen so pale it is like staring at snow from the bow of a ship in fog.
|
Weather Is Good by Anne-Marie Oomen Season turns into a party gone wild
|
Who Shall Doubt by George Oppen consciousness / in itself
|
If It All Went Up in Smoke by George Oppen that smoke
|
Leviathan by George Oppen Truth also is the pursuit of it
|
Semite by George Oppen what art and anti-art to lead us by the sharpness
|
The Forms of Love by George Oppen Parked in the fields
|
Psalm by George Oppen In the small beauty of the forest
|
Father's Song by Gregory Orr Yesterday, against admonishment
|
Untitled [This is what was bequeathed us] by Gregory Orr This is what was bequeathed us
|
To be alive by Gregory Orr To be alive: not just the carcass
|
Some Part of the Lyric by Gregory Orr Some part of the lyric wants to exclude
|
Love Poem by Gregory Orr A black biplane crashes through the window
|
A Litany by Gregory Orr
|
Heart by Gregory Orr Its hinges rustless
|
Going Out by Gregory Orr You hold your hands up to the light
|
In Concert by Giorgianna Orsini Hidden away in the music
|
psalm by Alicia Suskin Ostriker I am not lyric any more
|
Exile by Alicia Suskin Ostriker The downward turning touch
|
Birdcall by Alicia Suskin Ostriker Tuwee, calls a bird near the house
|
Weaving by Paul Otremba I've tried to sift a truth finer than salt
|
Metamorphosis VIII, 611-724 by Ovid THUS Achelous ends: his audience hear
|
Tristia, Book III, Section 2 by Ovid So it was my destiny to travel as far as Scythia
|
Elegy 5 by Ovid In summer's heat, and mid-time of the day
|
The Rape of Proserpina by Ovid Vigorous Sicily sprawled across the gigantic body
|
A group of girls from Minnesota or black mascara by Maureen Owen Not trees trace so just kids we hung
|
The Philosophy of Pitchforks by Sue Owen In the dark pit of hell
|
Futility by Wilfred Owen Move him into the sun
|
Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen Bent double, like old beggars under sacks
|
The Parable of the Old Man and the Young by Wilfred Owen So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went
|
Strange Meeting by Wilfred Owen It seemed that out of the battle I escaped
|
Anthem for Doomed Youth by Wilfred Owen What passing-bells for these who die as cattle
|
Greater Love by Wilfred Owen Red lips are not so red
|
Shadwell Stair by Wilfred Owen I am the ghost of Shadwell Stair
|
|