https://whiteesprit.blogspot.com/2020/07/content-art-for-poem-by-abirlal.html
The Bait by John Donne
Break of Day by John Donne
The Anniversary by John Donne
The Anniversary
BY JOHN DONNE
All Kings, and all their favourites,
All glory of honours, beauties, wits,
The sun itself, which makes times, as they pass,
Is elder by a year now than it was
When thou and I first one another saw:
All other things to their destruction draw,
Only our love hath no decay;
This no tomorrow hath, nor yesterday,
Running it never runs from us away,
But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.
Two graves must hide thine and my corse;
If one might, death were no divorce.
Alas, as well as other Princes, we
(Who Prince enough in one another be)
Must leave at last in death these eyes and ears,
Oft fed with true oaths, and with sweet salt tears;
But souls where nothing dwells but love
(All other thoughts being inmates) then shall prove
This, or a love increasèd there above,
When bodies to their graves, souls from their graves remove.
And then we shall be throughly blessed;
But we no more than all the rest.
Here upon earth we’re Kings, and none but we
Can be such Kings, nor of such subjects be;
Who is so safe as we? where none can do
Treason to us, except one of us two.
True and false fears let us refrain,
Let us love nobly, and live, and add again
Years and years unto years, till we attain
To write threescore: this is the second of our reign.
Alicia Ostriker, “The Anniversary” from Songs. Copyright © 1969 by Alicia Ostriker.
The Apparition by John Donne
The Apparition
BY JOHN DONNE
When by thy scorn, O murd’ress, I am dead
And that thou think’st thee free
From all solicitation from me,
Then shall my ghost come to thy bed,
And thee, feign’d vestal, in worse arms shall see;
Then thy sick taper will begin to wink,
And he, whose thou art then, being tir’d before,
Will, if thou stir, or pinch to wake him, think
Thou call’st for more,
And in false sleep will from thee shrink;
And then, poor aspen wretch, neglected thou
Bath’d in a cold quicksilver sweat wilt lie
A verier ghost than I.
What I will say, I will not tell thee now,
Lest that preserve thee; and since my love is spent,
I’had rather thou shouldst painfully repent,
Than by my threat’nings rest still innocent
This Be The Verse
High Windows by Philip Larkin
Misspelled Jargon
I have been a mad man, Bitter,hard,and wretched. I have been the worst dust On your shoes, the filth on your Favourite shirt , Wash me out , Clean your lips, I have been a misspelled jargon, Sharp your vocabularies. I have been a solitary brute Go away, far long . A poem by Abirlal […]
You forgot!
From The Rough Sketches of Life by Abirlal Mukhopadhyay Every time we stop talking, stop taking care of our people. Its two-wing meaning should be underlined, one, you have chances to come more closer, and another, with days and hours your heart would go on suffering, then it would try to heal itself, then we […]
Baltimore Oriole
I have been a lonely traveller, I’m in rest, short but deep. Next to the nest of birds. One little Baltimore Oriole is on my left arm . I feel intestine of the forest night. Here, I swallow the breeze, cold and wet, And wait for the daylight. Asif it said, “My nest, little to […]
White Esprit 