Posts tagged ‘1966’

Monday, 22 April 2019

Rabbits are Nice Neighbors by Zilpha Keatley Snyder

Rabbits are nice neighbors,
Kindly and quiet.
They don’t bite mailmen,
Or make loud noises in the night.

Rabbits are ornamental,
Lop-eared and silky,
With long bouncy legs,
And noses that quiver.

And now and then—not often—
They deliver—
Eggs.

From: Livingston, Myra Cohn (ed.) and Wallner, John (illustr.), Easter Poems, 1985, Holiday House: New York, p. 10.
(https://archive.org/stream/easterpoems00livi)

Date: ?1966

By: Zilpha Keatley Snyder (1927-2014)

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Tuesday, 11 July 2017

La Vie Littéraire by Richard Tillinghast

Surly, unambitious
the flies languidly
loop the loop near the porch ceiling
It is what passes for
Spring here

Picturing
my wife at work
her arm inside the glass case
reaching for pastries
the customers point to

I push back the afternoon’s responsibilities
mend a screen
Anything
to make her think
I haven’t lolled the day
away
watching tv
doing the crosswords.

From: https://newleftreview.org/I/35/richard-tillinghast-poems

Date: 1966

By: Richard Tillinghast (1940- )

Friday, 14 October 2016

A, a, a, Domine Deus by Walter David Jones

I said, Ah! What shall I write?
I enquired up and down.
(He’s tricked me before
with his manifold lurking-places.)
I looked for his symbol at the door.
I have looked for a long while
at the textures and contours.
I have run a hand over the trivial intersections.
I have journeyed among the dead forms
causation projects from pillar to pylon.
I have tired the eyes of the mind
regarding the colours and lights.
I have felt for His Wounds
in nozzles and containers.
I have wondered for the automatic devices.
I have tested the inane patterns
without prejudice.
I have been on my guard
not to condemn the unfamiliar.
For it is easy to miss Him
at the turn of a civilisation.

I have watched the wheels go round in case I might see the
living creatures like the appearance of lamps, in case I might see
the Living God projected from the Machine. I have said to the
perfected steel, be my sister and for the glassy towers I thought I
felt some beginnings of His creature, but A, a, a Domine Deus,
my hands found the glazed work unrefined and the terrible
crystal a stage-paste … Eia, Domine Deus.

From: http://www.flashpointmag.com/colineliot.htm

Date: 1938/1966

By: Walter David Jones (1895-1974)

Monday, 3 October 2016

Confusion by Kenneth Charles Marion Rexroth

For Nancy Shores

I pass your home in a slow vermilion dawn,
The blinds are drawn, and the windows are open.
The soft breeze from the lake
Is like your breath upon my cheek.
All day long I walk in the intermittent rainfall.
I pick a vermilion tulip in the deserted park,
Bright raindrops cling to its petals.
At five o’clock it is a lonely color in the city.
I pass your home in a rainy evening,
I can see you faintly, moving between lighted walls.
Late at night I sit before a white sheet of paper,
Until a fallen vermilion petal quivers before me.

From: http://www.english.illinois.edu/maps/poets/m_r/rexroth/onlinepoems.htm

Date: 1966

By: Kenneth Charles Marion Rexroth (1905-1982)

Tuesday, 1 October 2013

Frederick Douglass by Robert Hayden (Asa Bundy Sheffey)

When it is finally ours, this freedom, this liberty, this beautiful
and terrible thing, needful to man as air,
usable as earth; when it belongs at last to all,
when it is truly instinct, brain matter, diastole, systole,
reflex action; when it is finally won; when it is more
than the gaudy mumbo jumbo of politicians:
this man, this Douglass, this former slave, this Negro
beaten to his knees, exiled, visioning a world
where none is lonely, none hunted, alien,
this man, superb in love and logic, this man
shall be remembered. Oh, not with statues’ rhetoric,
not with legends and poems and wreaths of bronze alone,
but with the lives grown out of his life, the lives
fleshing his dream of the beautiful, needful thing.

From: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/175757

Date: 1966

By: Robert Hayden (Asa Bundy Sheffey) (1913-1980)

Friday, 11 January 2013

Municipal Gum by Oodgeroo Noonuccal (Kath Walker) (Kathleen Jean Mary Ruska)

Gumtree in the city street,
Hard bitumen around your feet,
Rather you should be
In the cool world of leafy forest halls
And wild bird calls
Here you seems to me
Like that poor cart-horse
Castrated, broken, a thing wronged,
Strapped and buckled, its hell prolonged,
Whose hung head and listless mien express
Its hopelessness.
Municipal gum, it is dolorous
To see you thus
Set in your black grass of bitumen–
O fellow citizen,
What have they done to us?

From: http://www.ict.griffith.edu.au/~davidt/redlandbay/oodgeroo.htm

Date: 1966

By: Oodgeroo Noonuccal (Kath Walker) (Kathleen Jean Mary Ruska) (1920-1993)

Thursday, 17 May 2012

To Roland Robinson by Craig Powell

Within the city you became a ghost,
passionate, perhaps, with Irish indignation
but always an exile from the jubilation
of rock and orchid, flame in the screaming host

of morning parakeets: under the raw sun almost
you see the vision mock you. Yet our station
too is a lost country, we who in expectation
of truths or phantoms plod the treacherous coast

of human continents; and seeing again
the myth you gather from an unpeopled soil
are glad, yet must return to a graver toil

in town or city, ever by wind shoved
along the waste earth between the tribes of men
the sick, the brutal, and the always beloved.

From: http://www.poetrylibrary.edu.au/poets/powell-craig/to-roland-robinson-0613025

Date: 1966

By: Craig Powell (1940- )

Monday, 16 April 2012

Ancre Sunshine by Edmund Blunden

In all his glory the sun was high and glowing
Over the farm world where we found great peace,
And clearest blue the winding river flowing
Seemed to be celebrating a release
From all that speed and music of its own
Which but for some few cows we heard alone.

Here half a century before might I,
Had something chanced, about this point have lain,
Looking with failing sense on such blue sky,
And then became a name with others slain.
But that thought vanished. Claire was wandering free
Miramont way in the golden tasselled lea.

The railway trains went by, and dreamily
I thought of them as planets in their course,
Thought bound perhaps for Arras, how would we
Have wondered once if through the furious force
Murdering our world one of these same had come,
Friendly and sensible – “the war’s over chum”.

And now it seemed Claire was afar, and I
Alone, and where she went perhaps the mill
That used to be had risen again and by
All that had fallen was in its old form still,
For her to witness, with no cold surprise,
In one of those moments when nothing dies.

From: http://english.gchss.com/edmundblunden.htm

Date: 1966

By: Edmund Blunden (1896-1974)