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Hint
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Answer
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Ozymandias
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I met a traveller from an antique land
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Ozymandias
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Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
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Ozymandias
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a shatter'd visage lies
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Ozymandias
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sneer of cold command
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Ozymandias
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its sculptor well those passions read
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Ozymandias
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Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things, The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed |
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Ozymandias
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"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!" |
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Ozymandias
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Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away. |
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London
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I wander through each chartered street, Near where the chartered Thames does flow |
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London
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mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe |
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London
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In every cry of every man, In every infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban, The mind-forged manacles I hear. |
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London
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Every black'ning church appals,
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London
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the hapless soldier's sigh Runs in blood down palace walls |
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London
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the youthful harlot's curse Blasts the newborn infant's tear, And blights with plagues the marriage hearse. |
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The Prelude
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It was an act of stealth And troubled pleasure |
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The Prelude
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She was an elfin pinnace; lustily I dipped my oars into the silent lake |
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The Prelude
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The horizon's bound, a huge peak, black and huge
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The Prelude
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with purpose of its own And measured motion like a living thing, Strode after me |
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The Prelude
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through the silent water stole my way
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The Prelude
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dim and determined sense Of unknown modes of being |
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The Prelude
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There hung a darkness, call it solitude Of blank desertion |
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The Prelude
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No familiar shapes Remained, no pleasant images of trees, Of sea and sky, no colours of green fields |
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The Prelude
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huge and mighty forms that do not live, Like living men |
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My Last Duchess
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That's my last Duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive |
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My Last Duchess
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(since none puts by The curtain I have drawn for you, but I) |
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My Last Duchess
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Sir, 'twas not Her husband's presence only, called that spot Of joy into the Duchess' cheek |
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My Last Duchess
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'Paint Must never hope to reproduce the faint Half-flush that dies along her throat' |
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My Last Duchess
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too soon made glad, Too easily impressed |
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My Last Duchess
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She looked on, and her looks went everywhere
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My Last Duchess
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as if she ranked My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name With anybody's gift |
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My Last Duchess
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Just this Or that in you disgusts me |
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My Last Duchess
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E'en then would be some stooping; and I choose Never to stoop |
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My Last Duchess
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I gave commands; Then all smiles stopped together |
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My Last Duchess
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no just pretence Of mine for a dowry will be disallowed |
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My Last Duchess
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my object
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My Last Duchess
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Notice Neptune, though, Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity, Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me! |
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The Charge of the Light Brigade
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Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward |
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The Charge of the Light Brigade
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Into the valley of death Rode the six hundred |
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The Charge of the Light Brigade
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Was there a man dismay'd Not tho' the soldier knew Some one had blunder'd |
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The Charge of the Light Brigade
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Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die |
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The Charge of the Light Brigade
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Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them |
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The Charge of the Light Brigade
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Storm'd at with shot and shell
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The Charge of the Light Brigade
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Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell |
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The Charge of the Light Brigade
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Flash'd all their sabres bare, Flash'd as they turned in air |
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The Charge of the Light Brigade
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All the world wonder'd
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The Charge of the Light Brigade
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When can their glory fade?
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The Charge of the Light Brigade
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Noble six hundred!
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Exposure
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the merciless iced east winds that knive us...
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Exposure
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sentries whisper, curious, nervous
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Exposure
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But nothing happens.
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Exposure
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like a dull rumour of some other war
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Exposure
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Sudden successive flights of bullets streak the silence
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Exposure
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Pale flakes with fingering stealth come feeling for our faces
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Exposure
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Is it that we are dying?
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Exposure
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on us the doors are closed
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Exposure
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love of God seems dying
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Exposure
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Shrivelling many hands, puckering foreheads crisp
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Exposure
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All their eyes are ice
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Storm on the Island
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We are prepared: we build our houses squat
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Storm on the Island
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you can listen to the thing you fear Forgetting that it pummels your house too |
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Storm on the Island
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there are no trees, no natural shelter
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Storm on the Island
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Exploding comfortably down on the cliffs
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Storm on the Island
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the flung spray hits The very windows, spits like a tame cat Turned savage |
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Storm on the Island
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wind dives And strafes invisibly |
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Storm on the Island
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Space is a salvo. We are bombarded by the empty air |
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Storm on the Island
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Strange, it is a huge nothing that we fear
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Bayonet Charge
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Suddenly he awoke and was running - raw In raw-seamed hot khaki |
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Bayonet Charge
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Bullets smacking the belly out of the air -
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Bayonet Charge
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The patriotic tear that had brimmed in his eye Sweating like molten iron from the centre of his chest |
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Bayonet Charge
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he almost stopped
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Bayonet Charge
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In what cold clockwork of the stars and the nations Was he the hand pointing that second? |
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Bayonet Charge
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yellow hare that rolled like a flame
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Bayonet Charge
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King, honour, human dignity, etcetera Dropped like luxuries in a yelling alarm |
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Bayonet Charge
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His terror's touchy dynamite
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Remains
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probably armed, possibly not
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Remains
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Three of a kind all letting fly
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Remains
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I see every round as it rips through his life -
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Remains
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sort of inside out
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Remains
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and tosses his guts back into his body. Then he's carted off in the back of a lorry |
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Remains
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End of story, except not really
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Remains
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His blood-shadow stays on the street
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Remains
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I walk right over it week after week
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Remains
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And the drink and the drugs won't flush him out
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Remains
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some distant, sun-stunned, sand-smothered land
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Remains
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his bloody life in my bloody hands |
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Poppies
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spasms of paper red, disrupting a blockade of yellow bias binding around your blazer |
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Poppies
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steeled the softening
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Poppies
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the gelled blackthorns of your hair |
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Poppies
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All my words flattened, rolled, turned into felt |
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Poppies
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threw it open, the world overflowing like a treasure chest |
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Poppies
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released a song bird from its cage
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Poppies
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my stomach busy making tucks, darts, pleats |
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Poppies
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I traced the inscriptions on the war memorial |
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Poppies
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hoping to hear your playground voice catching on the wind |
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War Photographer
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spools of suffering set out in ordered rows
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War Photographer
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Belfast. Beirut. Phnom Penh. All flesh is grass.
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War Photographer
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fields which don't explode beneath the feet of running children in a nightmare heat |
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War Photographer
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Something is happening.
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War Photographer
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a half-formed ghost
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War Photographer
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how he sought approval without words to do what he must |
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War Photographer
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blood stained into foreign dust
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War Photographer
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A hundred agonies in black and white
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War Photographer
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The reader's eyeballs prick with tears between the bath and pre-lunch beers |
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War Photographer
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they do not care
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Tissue
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Paper that lets the light shine through, this is what could alter things |
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Tissue
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who died where and how, on which sepia date |
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Tissue
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pages smoothed and stroked and turned transparent with attention |
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Tissue
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If buildings were paper, I might feel their drift, see how easily they fall away on a sigh, a shift |
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Tissue
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Maps too.
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Tissue
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The sun shines through their borderlines |
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Tissue
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might fly our lives like paper kites
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Tissue
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let the daylight break through capitals and monoliths |
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Tissue
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the shapes that pride can make
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Tissue
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raise a structure never meant to last |
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Tissue
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turned into your skin.
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The Emigrée
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There once was a country...
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The Emigrée
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It may be at war, it may be sick with tyrants, but I am branded by an impression of sunlight |
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The Emigrée
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time rolls its tanks
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The Emigrée
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That child's vocabulary I carried here like a hollow doll, opens and spills a grammar |
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The Emigrée
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It tastes of sunlight.
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The Emigrée
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I comb its hair and love its shining eyes
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The Emigrée
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their free city
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The Emigrée
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my shadow falls as evidence of sunlight
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Kamikaze
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Her father embarked at sunrise
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Kamikaze
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a shaven head full of powerful incantations |
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Kamikaze
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little fishing boats strung out like bunting on a green-blue translucent sea |
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Kamikaze
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a tuna, the dark prince, muscular, dangerous.
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Kamikaze
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they treated him as though he no longer existed
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Kamikaze
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And sometimes, she said, he must have wonderedwhich had been the better way to die.
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Checking Out Me History
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Dem tell me Dem tell me Wha dem want to tell me |
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Checking Out Me History
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Bandage up me eye with me own history Blind me to me own identity |
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Checking Out Me History
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Dem tell me bout 1066 and all dat
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Checking Out Me History
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Toussaint a slave with vision
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Checking Out Me History
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de cow who jump over de moon
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Checking Out Me History
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Nannysee-far woman of mountain dream fire-woman struggle hopeful stream to freedom river
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Checking Out Me History
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a yellow sunriseto the dying
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Checking Out Me History
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I checking out me own history I carving out me identity |
