Lament
A Villanelle
The sting of bees took away my father
who walked in a swarming shroud of wings
and scorned the tick of the falling weather.
Lightning licked in a yellow lather
but missed the mark with snaking fangs:
the sting of bees took away my father.
Trouncing the sea like a ragin bather,
he rode the flood in a pride of prongs
and scorned the tick of the falling weather.
A scowl of sun struck down my mother,
tolling her grave with golden gongs,
but the sting of bees took away my father.
He counted the guns of god a bother,
laughed at the ambush of angels’ tongues,
and scorned the tick of the falling weather.
O ransack the four winds and find another
man who can mangle the grin of kings:
the sting of bees took away my father
who scorned the tick of the falling weather.





Podobne wiersze:
- The Bells I Hear the sledges with the bells- Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, […]...
- „Chłopczyk zbłąkany” „Ojcze, tatusiu, gdzie jesteś? Poczekaj! Jak znajdę ślady twoje? Ojcze, tatusiu, odezwij się do mnie! Tatusiu, ja się boję! Noc […]...
- THE RUNAWAY Once when the snow of the year was beginning to fall, We stopped by a mountain pasture to say ‚Whose […]...
- O Captain! My Captain! O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is […]...
- Infant Sorrow My mother groand! My father wept. Into the dangerous world I leapt: Helpless, naked, piping loud Like a fiend hid […]...
- Lament „Ankę to ja bym do Wisły!…” „Co robisz, tato?!” „Bez litości i bez namysłu za to, że ty mi każesz […]...
- Lament Świętokrzyski Posłuchajcie, bracia miła, Kcęć wam skorżyć krwawą głowę; Usłyszycie moj zamętek, Jen mi się [z]stał w Wielki Piątek. Pożałuj mię, […]...
- Lament Wichrze dziko wyjący, Wichrze rozżalony, Nocą w chmury bijący Jak w żałobne dzwony; Deszczu w łzawej udręce, Ciemne pola, przełęcze, […]...
- Lament Nigdy nie pomyślałbym, że umrzesz Gdyby twój koń nie wrócił do mnie Wlokąc za sobą długie lejce, Z twoją krwią […]...
- Lament Zamknąłem drzwi od balkonu, ponieważ nie chciałem słuchać płaczu, ale za szarymi ścianami nic nie było słychać prócz płaczu. Bardzo […]...
- Lament I Wszytki płacze, wszytki łzy Heraklitowe I lamenty, i skargi Symonidowe, Wszytki troski na świecie, wszytki wzdychania I żale, i frasunki, […]...
- September September The golden-rod is yellow; The corn is turning brown; The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down. […]...
- Karnawałowy lament poety O poezjo, ty nie grzejesz, A tu takie ciężkie mrozy! Dobrze jeszcze tym, co mają Ciepłe futra i powozy, Lecz […]...
- Poem PoemBooks and a coloured skein of thoughts were mine; And magic words lay ripening in my soul Till their much-whispered […]...
- T. S. Eliot – 4Mr. Eliot’s Sunday Morning Service Look, look, master, here comes two religions Caterpillars. The Jew of Malta. Polyphiloprogenitive The sapient sutlers of the Lord Drift […]...
- Song MY silks and fine array, My smiles and languish’d air, By Love are driven away; And mournful lean Despair Brings […]...
- Freedom Freedom W HAT freeman knoweth freedom? Never he Whose father’s father through long lives have reigned O’er kingdoms which mere […]...
- Języki obce Czy twój ojciec pali fajkę? Tak mój ojciec pali fajkę Yes, my father smokes the pipe powtórz to zdanie otworzy […]...
- Address To The Scholars Of The Village School Of Address To The Scholars Of The Village School Of Wordsworth William I come, ye little noisy Crew, Not long your […]...
- The Waste Land – V. What the Thunder Said After the torchlight red on sweaty faces After the frosty silence in the gardens After the agony in stony places […]...
- The Little Black Boy MY mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but O, my soul is white! White as […]...
- The dream A Dream I DREAMED that I ws dead and crossed the heavens,– Heavens after heavens with burning feet and swift,– […]...
- 1755 (By stworzyć prerię…) To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,- One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery […]...
- The Valley Of Unrest Far away – far away – Far away – as far at least Lies that valley as the day Down […]...
- HOME BURIAL He saw her from the bottom of the stairs Before she saw him. She was starting down, Looking back over […]...
- THE WITCH OF COOS I staid the night for shelter at a farm Behind the mountains, with a mother and son, Two old-believers. They […]...
- The little Girl Lost The Little Girl Lost In futurity I prophetic see That the earth from sleep (Grave the sentence deep) Shall arise […]...
- [ANG] Disillusionment of Ten O’Clock The houses are haunted By white night-gowns. None are green, Or purple with green rings, Or green with yellow rings, […]...
- TREE AT MY WINDOW Tree at my window, window tree, My sash is lowered when night comes on; But let there never be curtain […]...
- Tamerlane Kind solace in a dying hour! Such, father, is not (now) my theme- I will not madly deem that power […]...
- Gwendolyn Brooks – Further Instructions THE POOL PLAYERS. SEVEN AT THE GOLDEN SHOVEL. We real cool. We Left school. We Lurk late. We Strike straight. […]...
- Sympathy SympathyThe irony of being two…! Grey eyes, wide open suddenly, Regard me and enquire; I see a face Grave and […]...
- Sonnet on Approaching Italy I reached the Alps: the soul within me burned, Italia, my Italia, at thy name: And when from out the […]...
- A Pact A Pact I’ll make a pact with you, Walt Whitman– I have detested you long enough. I come to you […]...
- Holy Week at Genoa I wandered through Scoglietto’s far retreat, The oranges on each o’erhanging spray Burned as bright lamps of gold to shame […]...
- Soil A flowers’s mother A soldier’s father The farmer’s wife The strat and end of life, The sword can’t cut it, […]...
- [ANG] Sunday Morning 1 Complacencies of the peignoir, and late Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair, And the green freedom of a […]...
- Louis Napoleon Eagle of Austerlitz! where were thy wings When far away upon a barbarous strand, In fight unequal, by an obscure […]...
- The Ideal Found Wanting The Ideal Found Wanting I’m sick of clownery and Owlglass tricks; Damn the whole crowd of you! I hate you […]...
- Allen Ginsberg – Według Martwych Dusz Ameryko, dokąd pędzisz w swoim wspaniałym kabriolecie, autostradą na złamanie karku, do jakiej katastrofy w głębokim kanionie Zachodnich Gór Skalistych, […]...