Poetry Catalog

Shells spent, breath frozen lie in wait—easy target— mag dumped, bulletproof. … [Read more...] about Frozen Breath, By: Andrew Cyr

Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau,Mock on, mock on; ’tis all in vain;You throw the sand against the wind,And the wind blows it back again. And every sand becomes a gem,Reflected in the beams divine;Blown back, they blind the mocking eye,But still in Israel’s paths they shine. The atoms of DemocritusAnd Newton’s particles of lightAre sands upon the Red Sea shoreWhere … [Read more...] about Scoffers, By: William Blake

The caverns of the Grave I’ve seen,And these I showed to England’s Queen,But now the caves of Hell I view,—Whom shall I dare to show them to?What mighty soul in beauty’s formShall dauntless view the infernal storm?Egremont’s Countess can controlThe flames of hell that round me roll.If she refuse, I still go on,Till the heavens and earth are gone;Still admired by noble … [Read more...] about For A Picture Of The Last Judgment, By: William Blake

The door of Death is made of gold,That mortal eyes cannot behold:But, when the mortal eyes are closed,And cold and pale the limbs reposed,The soul awakes, and, wondering, seesIn her mild hand the golden keys.The grave is heaven’s golden gate,And rich and poor around it wait:O Shepherdess of England’s fold,Behold this gate of pearl and gold! To dedicate to England’s QueenThe … [Read more...] about Dedication Of The Designs To Blair’s Grave, By: William Blake

I wonder whether the girls are mad,And I wonder whether they mean to kill,And I wonder if William Bond will die,For assuredly he is very ill. He went to church on a May morning,Attended by fairies one, two, and three,But the angels of Providence drove them away,And he returned home in misery. He went not out to the field nor fold,He went not out to the village nor … [Read more...] about William Bond, By: William Blake