Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
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Once more. Look: a spent old scarecrowshrivelled facestraw-dry shadowswaying like a leafbending and swaying over books.Once more. Look: a spent old..
© Hayyim Nahman Bialik
After My Death
After my death mourn me this way:'There was a man-and see: he is no more;before his time this man diedand his life's song in mid-bar stopped;and oh..
© Hayyim Nahman Bialik
On The Slaughter
Heaven, beg mercy for me! If there isa God in you, a pathway throughyou to this God - which I have notdiscovered - then pray for me! For myheart is..
© Hayyim Nahman Bialik
Take Me Under Your Wing
Take me under your wing,be my mother, my sister.Take my head to your breast,my banished prayers to your nest.One merciful twilight hour,hear my pain..
© Hayyim Nahman Bialik
Alone
Wind blew, light drew them all.New songs revive their mornings.Only I, small bird, am forsakenunder the Shekhina’s wing.Alone. I remain alone.The..
© Hayyim Nahman Bialik
Summer Is Dying
Summer is dying in the purple and gold and russetof the falling leaves of the wood,and the sunset clouds are dyingin their own blood.In the emptying..
© Hayyim Nahman Bialik
The Old Acacia Tree
Neither daylight nor the darknessSee how silently I wander.Not on mountain, nor in valley,Does an old acacia ponder.The acacia solves all..
© Hayyim Nahman Bialik
In The City Of Slaughter (Excerpt)
Proceed thence to the ruins, the split walls reach,Where wider grows the hollow, and greater grows the breach;Pass over the shattered hearth, attain..
© Hayyim Nahman Bialik
On A Summer’s Day
When high noon on a summer’s daymakes the sky a fiery furnaceand the heart seeks a quiet corner for dreams,then come to me, my weary friend.A shady..
© Hayyim Nahman Bialik
Late Evening Treat
After hours and after stress,When streets grow quiet, soft, and slow,A single donut on a plateFeels like a small and gentle glow.Not every comfort..
© National Donut Day
Office Table
A box of donuts on the desk,No speeches needed, just a smile.Colleagues pause, the mood gets light,Work can wait a little while.Sometimes peace is..
© National Donut Day
Sweet Break
We earn our treats in quiet ways,Through long routines and careful plans.A donut shared at noon remindsWe’re more than schedules in our hands.Let..
© National Donut Day
Glaze of Calm
The world can spin a little fast,Bills and worries come to stay.But one small circle, iced with calm,Can gently sweeten up the day.A donut doesn’t..
© National Donut Day
Morning Pause
Coffee breath and city noise,Deadlines knocking at the door.Then a donut, soft and warm,Makes the rush feel less like war.Some days healing isn’t..
© National Donut Day
To A Hatpeg
There’s a nice little hatpeg that hangs on the wallThat long from its owner has parted,And though he is wandering far beyond callLike him it is..
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
The Digger's Song
Scrape the bottom of the hole: gather up the stuff,Fossick in the crannies, lest you leave a grainbehind,Just another shovelful and that'll be..
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
At Devlin's Siding
What made the porter stare so hard? what made the porter stareAnd eye the tall young woman and the bundle that she bare?What made the tall young..
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
The Box-Tree's Love
Long time beside the squatter's gateA great grey Box-Tree, early, late,Or shine or rain, in silence thereHad stood and watched the seasons fare:Had..
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
On The Boundary
I Love the ancient boundary-fence,That mouldering chock-and-log.When I go ride the boundaryI let the old horse jogAnd take his pleasure in and..
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
'Twixt The Wings Of The Yard
Hear the loud swell of it, mighty pell mell of it,Thousands of voices all blent into one:See “hell for leather” now trooping together, nowDown the..
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
The Demon Snow-Shoes (A Legend Of Kiandra)
The snow lies deep on hill and dale,In rocky gulch and grassy vale,The tiny, trickling, tumbling fallsAre frozen 'twixt their rocky wallsThat grey..
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
Our Visitor
There's a fellow on the station(He dropped in on a call,Just casual—to stay a pleasant week),He’s a banker’s near relation,Strongly built, and very..
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
The Babes In The Bush
Dozens of damp little curls;One little short upper lip;Two rows of teeth like diminutive pearls;Eyes clear and grey as the creek where it swirlsOver..
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
Jack's Last Muster
The first flush of grey light, the herald of daylight,Is dimly outlining the musterer's camp,Where over the sleeping, the stealthily creepingBreath..
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
Kelly's Conversion
KELLY the Ranger half opened an eyeTo wink at the Army passing by,While his hot breath, thick with the taint of beer,Came forth from his lips in a..
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake