شعر إنجليزي

I don’t want them to turn .my little girl into a swallow She would fly far away into the sky ,and never fly again to my straw bed

Behind the facade of our big egos we constantly do hide And pride of five letters is only that just pride And some will even tell you pride comes before a fall

born 19.6.32—deported 24.9.42 Undesirable you may have been, untouchable you were not. Not forgotten .or passed over at the proper time

,I never saw a Purple Cow ,I never hope to see one

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعرة جسينا ملوبي، وهي صرخة حشد للنساء للوقوف في وجه مضطهديهن في جميع أنحاء القارة الأفريقية.

The first time I walked ,With a girl, I was twelve Cold, and weighted down .With two oranges in my jacket December. Frost cracking

,My chalk is no longer than a chip of fingernail Chip by which I must explain this Monday ”.Night the verbs “to get;” “to wear,” “to cut ,I’m not given much, these tired students

When the foreman whistled My brother and I ,Shouldered our hoes .Leaving the field

It comes blundering over the Boulders at night, it stays Frightened outside the Range of my campfire

Two butterflies went out at noon ,And waltzed above a stream Then stepped straight through the firmament ;And rested on a beam

,There’s a certain Slant of light –Winter Afternoons  That oppresses, like the Heft –Of Cathedral Tunes 

,There is another sky ,Ever serene and fair ,And there is another sunshine ;Though it be darkness there

;As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame  As tumbled over rim in roundy wells  Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s  ;Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name 

,I want to die while you love me ,While yet you hold me fair While laughter lies upon my lips .And lights are in my hair

,The heart of a woman goes forth with the dawn ,As a lone bird, soft winging, so restlessly on Afar o’er life’s turrets and vales does it roam .In the wake of those echoes the heart calls home

,Don't knock at my door, little child ,I cannot let you in You know not what a world this is .Of cruelty and sin

There’s an indescribable beauty in union In two beings forming one new being Entering each other’s world Surrendering each other’s selves

The fog has risen from the sea and crowned ,The dark, untrodden summits of the coast ,Where roams a voice, in canyons uttermost .From midnight waters vibrant and profound

,I give back to the earth what the earth gave ,All to the furrow, none to the grave ;The candle’s out, the spirit’s vigil spent .Sight may not follow where the vision went

,There may be chaos still around the world ;This little world that in my thinking lies For mine own bosom is the paradise .Where all my life’s fair visions are unfurled

When their time comes they fall .without wind, without rain They seep through the trees’ muslin .in a slow fermentation

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعرة جيليان كلارك، وهي قصيدة عن الآمال الضائعة والأحلام والفرص التي تمت إعادة النظر فيها، باستخدام استعارة الصقر وهيكله العظمي.

My own heart let me more have pity on; let ,Me live to my sad self hereafter kind Charitable; not live this tormented mind .With this tormented mind tormenting yet

;Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee  Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man  ;In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can  .Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be 

,The cricket sang ,And set the sun ,And workmen finished, one by one .Their seam the day upon

The Bustle in a House The Morning after Death Is solemnest of industries –Enacted opon Earth

That it will never come again .Is what makes life so sweet Believing what we don’t believe .Does not exhilarate

–To fight aloud, is very brave  But gallanter, I know Who charge within the bosom –The Cavalry of Woe

,There’s been a Death, in the Opposite House —As lately as Today  I know it, by the numb look —Such Houses have — alway 

There is no Frigate like a Book ,To take us Lands away Nor any Coursers like a Page –Of prancing Poetry