Poetry Catalog

There's a giant bubble of ironyIn this room about nowIt contains more imperfect ironyThan this room will allowIt floats like a wanderer o'er our headsA bit like Wordsworth's cloudOur cumulo-nimble-cloud-bubbleIs due to speak aloudYes, it'll definitely happen soonIts growth exponentialWhen the irony finally rains downConceptual torrentialThe thoughts currently queuedWill soon … [Read more...] about Where’s The Nearest Exit?, By: Nathan Mallon

Now we are tired of boisterous joy,Have romped enough, my little Boy!Jane hangs her head upon my breast,And you shall bring your stool and rest;This corner is your own. There! take your seat, and let me seeThat you can listen quietly:And, as I promised, I will tellThat strange adventure which befellA poor blind Highland Boy. A 'Highland' Boy! why call him so?Because, my … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 XV. The Blind Highland Boy – A Tale Told By The Fire-Side, After Returning To The Vale Of Grasmere, By: William Wordsworth

Fly, some kind Harbinger, to Grasmere-dale!Say that we come, and come by this day's light;Fly upon swiftest wing round field and height,But chiefly let one Cottage hear the tale;There let a mystery of joy prevail,The kitten frolic, like a gamesome sprite,And Rover whine, as at a second sightOf near-approaching good that shall not fail:And from that Infant's face let joy … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 XIV. Fly, Some Kind Haringer, To Grasmere-Dale, By: William Wordsworth

Age! twine thy brows with fresh spring flowers,And call a train of laughing Hours;And bid them dance, and bid them sing;And thou, too, mingle in the ring!Take to thy heart a new delight;If not, make merry in despiteThat there is One who scorns thy power:But dance! for under Jedborough Tower,A Matron dwells who, though she bearsThe weight of more than seventy years,Lives in the … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 XIII. The Matron Of Jedborough And Her Husband, By: William Wordsworth

it was midnight when i felt death sneak into my roomthey entered quietly, the gentle shutting of a windowas they clambered, a little inelegantly, over the silland came to a stop beside my bed their hand was cold as they touched my foreheadice against the warm of my blankets and pillowsbut their skin was soft as silk and ever so gentlefingers brushing away stray hairs from my … [Read more...] about In Death’s Embrace, By: Arlin Mudju