Gregory Corso Sad Poems

  • 1.
    1
    I am a great American
    I am almost nationalistic about it!
    I love America like a madness!
    ...
  • 2.
    What simple profundities
    What profound simplicities
    To sit down among the trees
    and breathe with them
    ...
  • 3.
    Budger of history Brake of time You Bomb
    Toy of universe Grandest of all snatched sky I cannot hate you
    Do I hate the mischievous thunderbolt the jawbone of an ass
    The bumpy club of One Million B.C. the mace the flail the axe
    ...
  • 4.
    Thereâ??s a truth limits man
    A truth prevents his going any farther
    The world is changing
    The world knows itâ??s changing
    ...
  • 5.
    a slow thoughtful spontaneous poem


    I am 32 years old
    ...
  • 6.
    Uncomprising yearâ??I see no meaning to life.
    Though this abled self is here nonetheless,
    either in trade gold or grammaticness,
    I drop the wheelwrightâ??s simple principleâ??
    ...
  • 7.
    niverse Grandest of all snatched sky I cannot hate you
    Do I hate the mischievous thunderbolt the jawbone of an ass
    The bumpy club of One Million B.C. the mace the flail the axe
    Catapult Da Vinci tomahawk Cochise flintlock Kidd dagger Rathbone
    ...
  • 8.
    1
    How inseparable you and the America you saw yet was never
    there to see; you and America, like the tree and the
    ground, are one the same; yet how like a palm tree
    ...
  • 9.
    I am watching them churn the last milk they'll ever get from me.
    They are waiting for me to die;
    They want to make buttons out of my bones.
    Where are my sisters and brothers?
    ...
Total 9 Sad Poems by Gregory Corso

Top 10 most used topics by Gregory Corso

Life 11 God 10 I Love You 9 Love 9 Sad 9 Death 9 Time 9 Never 8 Night 8 World 7

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Andrew Lang Poem
Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
 by Andrew Lang

Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
...

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