poem.id,poem.ts,poem.title,poem.content,poem.author,poem.category_1_x_poem_id
41,"2018-02-27 03:35:16","Alone, Late At Night poem","'So round, so firmSo fully packed, So free and easy.(Well maybe not.) The product regulated by both The Food and Drug AdministrationAnd the Department of Agriculture, Is sold to anyone who can ante up the buck or so, And it's addictive, just ask someone who knows.The flip top package invites you inAnd from there on, you're on your own.Appearances are everything and Madison Avenue has gone out of its wayTo entice the unsuspecting to buy not One but two or more.Then there's the matter of the food companiesActually being in this business, Peddling taste, while ignoring Additives that may get you in the end.For those who are discerning, The manufacturer offers different varieties.So that if you tire of one, Or perhaps are just adventuresomeYou can choose.Once hooked, there should always be a stashHidden somewhere for that moment when the pangsStrike and shops are closed, and a long nightAwaits before the morn.The parent company is one perhaps you recognize, Kraft, Conagra, Tyson's, Smuckers, No, not any of these but stillA name familiar in most households.So in the privacy of your home, Reach way back, behind all the other itemsAnd choose that which for the momentPromises to sate your lust.Best to keep it to yourselfAs some may make fun of you for Being so entrapped in a webFrom which there is no escape.Your offer to shareWill go unappreciated andYou may suffer rejectionFor simply trying to do a good deed, Spreading the word, Making the product more acceptableTo those that scorn somethingThat has been a pacifierFor generations.But first let's consider the shortcomingsThat which is so long and coolIs spiced with flavorings and of courseLike all tobacco products has a fair amount of sugarEither there originally or added for quality assurance.Quality Assurance, Sure! Pop the top and admire the way in whichIndustry has met the challenge of putting the mostOf those buggers into an orderly display.No space wasted here.And the march of color across the topsOf those you lust for, Is enough to cause one to consider dumpingThe whole of them on the counter so you canHave your way with them.But wait, Place you nose up closeClose your eyes.What aroma stirs the emotions? Breath deeply And exhale slowlyThis is how it should be.Ah! ! ! Now greedily take one and Roll it between the thumb and forefinger.Examine it carefully, Caress it with you lips, Let the tongue explore.Aren't you glad you're aloneNo one should share the Ecstacy of the unknown.The touch and the taste.It's too late, Emotions take controlThe first is gone andYou are already reaching for another.Before you know, The pack is emptyAnd yet you are not satisfied, What to do but open another, Can of Hormel Vienna Sausages.","Sidi J. Mahtrow","{
    ""41"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 41,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
42,"2018-02-27 03:35:21","Alone In Ann Arbor poem","I walked aloneIn Ann Arbor last night, But you wereWith me again on South MainAmong the college kids, The restaurants and book stores, Everyone moving around, The folk musicComing from the Ark; Sweet Lady, you’ve won my heart, Even though we continue to lingerSo painfully apart.","Uriah Hamilton","{
    ""42"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 42,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
43,"2018-02-27 03:35:25","Alone poem","Over the fence, the dead settle in for a journey. Nine o'clock. You are alone for the first time today. Boys asleep. Husband out. A beer bottle sweats in your hand, and sea lavender clogs the air with perfume. Think of yourself. Your arms rest with nothing to do after weeks spent attending to others. Your thoughts turn to whether butter will last the week, how much longer the car can run on its partial tank of gas.","Deborah Ager","{
    ""43"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 43,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
44,"2018-02-27 03:35:31","Sonnet Xi: You Not Alone poem","You not alone, when you are still alone, O God, from you that I could private be. Since you one were, I never since was one; Since you in me, my self since out of me, Transported from my self into your being; Though either distant, present yet to either, Senseless with too much joy, each other seeing, And only absent when we are together. Give me my self and take your self again, Devise some means but how I may forsake you; So much is mine that doth with you remain, That, taking what is mine, with me I take you; You do bewitch me; O, that I could fly From my self you, or from your own self I.","Michael Drayton","{
    ""44"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 44,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
45,"2018-02-27 03:35:36","Learning To Go Alone poem","Come, my darling, come away,Take a pretty walk to-day; Run along, and never fear,I'll take care of baby dear: Up and down with little feet,That's the way to walk, my sweet. Now it is so very near,Soon she'll get to mother dear. There she comes along at last: Here's my finger, hold it fast: Now one pretty little kiss,After such a walk as this.","Ann Taylor","{
    ""45"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 45,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
46,"2018-02-27 03:35:38","Alone, Looking For Blossoms Along The Ri.. poem","The sorrow of riverside blossoms inexplicable,And nowhere to complain -- I've gone half crazy.I look up our southern neighbor. But my friend in wineGone ten days drinking. I find only an empty bed.A thick frenzy of blossoms shrouding the riverside,I stroll, listing dangerously, in full fear of spring.Poems, wine -- even this profusely driven, I endure.Arrangements for this old, white-haired man can wait.A deep river, two or three houses in bamboo quiet,And such goings on: red blossoms glaring with white!Among spring's vociferous glories, I too have my place:With a lovely wine, bidding life's affairs bon voyage.Looking east to Shao, its smoke filled with blossoms,I admire that stately Po-hua wineshop even more.To empty golden wine cups, calling such beautifulDancing girls to embroidered mats -- who could bear it?East of the river, before Abbot Huang's grave, Spring is a frail splendor among gentle breezes.In this crush of peach blossoms opening ownerless,Shall I treasure light reds, or treasure them dark?At Madame Huang's house, blossoms fill the paths:Thousands, tens of thousands haul the branches down.And butterflies linger playfully -- an unbrokenDance floating to songs orioles sing at their ease.I don't so love blossoms I want to die. I'm afraid,Once they are gone, of old age still more impetuous.And they scatter gladly, by the branchful. Let's talkThings over, little buds ---open delicately, sparingly.","Du Fu","{
    ""46"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 46,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
47,"2018-02-27 03:35:43","Alone poem","I, one who never speaks,Listened days in summer trees,Each day a rustling leaf.Then, in time, my unbeliefGrew like my running -My own eyes did not exist,When I struck I never missed.Noon, felt and far away -My brain is a thousand bees.","Yvor Winters","{
    ""47"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 47,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
48,"2018-02-27 03:35:48","The Images Alone poem","Scarlet as the cloth draped over a sword,white as steaming rice, blue as leschenaultia,old curried towns, the frog in its green human skin;a ploughman walking his furrow as if in irons, butas at a whoop of young men running loosein brick passages, there occurred the thoughtlike instant stitches all through crumpled silk: as if he'd had to leap to catch the bullet. A stench like hands out of the ground.The willows had like beads in their hair, andPeenemünde, grunted the dentist's drill, Peenemünde! Fowls went on typing on every corn key, greenkept crowding the pinks of the peach trees into the skybut used speech balloons were tacky in the riverand waterbirds had liftoff as at a repeal of gravity.","Les Murray","{
    ""48"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 48,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
49,"2018-02-27 03:35:54","Dying Alone In Public poem","Like the lonely winter tree Outstretched branches with never any leavesLonely skeletons, with lonely smiles Looking away while trying to hideTheir outstretched lonely eyes","Cin Sweet Fields","{
    ""49"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 49,
        ""category_1.id"": 1,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:39"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""alone""
    }
}"
50,"2018-02-27 03:35:58","America poem","Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,And sinks into my throat her tiger's tooth,Stealing my breath of life, I will confessI love this cultured hell that tests my youth!Her vigor flows like tides into my blood,Giving me strength erect against her hate.Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood.Yet as a rebel fronts a king in state,I stand within her walls with not a shredOf terror, malice, not a word of jeer.Darkly I gaze into the days ahead,And see her might and granite wonders there,Beneath the touch of Time's unerring hand,Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand.","Claude McKay","{
    ""50"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 50,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:49"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""america""
    }
}"
51,"2018-02-27 03:36:03","On Being Brought From Africa To America poem","'Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land,Taught my benighted soul to understandThat there's a God, that there's a Saviour too:Once I redemption neither sought nor knew.Some view our sable race with scornful eye,""Their colour is a diabolic die.""Remember, Christians, Negro's, black as Cain,May be refin'd, and join th' angelic train.","Phillis Wheatley","{
    ""51"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 51,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:49"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""america""
    }
}"
52,"2018-02-27 03:36:08","America The Beautiful poem","O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain! America! America! God shed His grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea! O beautiful for pilgrim feet, Whose stern, impassioned stress A thoroughfare for freedom beat Across the wilderness! America! America! God mend thine every flaw, Confirm thy soul in self-control, Thy liberty in law! O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife, Who more than self their country loved, And mercy more than life! America! America! May God thy gold refine, Till all success be nobleness, And every gain divine! O beautiful for patriot dream That sees beyond the years Thine alabaster cities gleam Undimmed by human tears! America! America! God shed His grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea!","Katharine Lee Bates","{
    ""52"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 52,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:49"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""america""
    }
}"
53,"2018-02-27 03:36:15","I Hear America Singing poem","I Hear America singing, the varied carols I hear; Those of mechanics--each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong; The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam, The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work; The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat--the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck; The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench--the hatter singing as he stands; The wood-cutter's song--the ploughboy's, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown; The delicious singing of the mother--or of the young wife at work--or of the girl sewing or washing--Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else; The day what belongs to the day--At night, the party of young fellows, robust, friendly, Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs.","Walt Whitman","{
    ""53"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 53,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:49"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""america""
    }
}"
54,"2018-02-27 03:36:17","A Farewell To America To Mrs. S. W. poem","I.ADIEU, New-England's smiling meads, Adieu, the flow'ry plain:I leave thine op'ning charms, O spring, And tempt the roaring main. II.In vain for me the flow'rets rise, And boast their gaudy pride,While here beneath the northern skies I mourn for health deny'd. III.Celestial maid of rosy hue, O let me feel thy reign! I languish till thy face I view, Thy vanish'd joys regain. IV.Susanna mourns, nor can I bear To see the crystal show'r,Or mark the tender falling tear At sad departure's hour; V.Not unregarding can I see Her soul with grief opprest:But let no sighs, no groans for me, Steal from her pensive breast. VI.In vain the feather'd warblers sing, In vain the garden blooms,And on the bosom of the spring Breathes out her sweet perfumes. VII.While for Britannia's distant shore We sweep the liquid plain,And with astonish'd eyes explore The wide-extended main. VIII.Lo! Health appears! celestial dame! Complacent and serene,With Hebe's mantle o'er her Frame, With soul-delighting mein. IX.To mark the vale where London lies With misty vapours crown'd,Which cloud Aurora's thousand dyes, And veil her charms around. X.Why, Phoebus, moves thy car so slow? So slow thy rising ray? Give us the famous town to view, Thou glorious king of day! XI.For thee, Britannia, I resign New-England's smiling fields; To view again her charms divine, What joy the prospect yields! XII.But thou! Temptation hence away, With all thy fatal train,Nor once seduce my soul away, By thine enchanting strain. XIII.Thrice happy they, whose heav'nly shield Secures their souls from harms,And fell Temptation on the field Of all its pow'r disarms!","Phillis Wheatley","{
    ""54"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 54,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:49"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""america""
    }
}"
55,"2018-02-27 03:36:20","America, A Prophecy poem","The shadowy Daughter of Urthona stood before red Orc, When fourteen suns had faintly journey'd o'er his dark abode: His food she brought in iron baskets, his drink in cups of iron: Crown'd with a helmet and dark hair the nameless female stood; A quiver with its burning stores, a bow like that of night, When pestilence is shot from heaven: no other arms she need! Invulnerable though naked, save where clouds roll round her loins Their awful folds in the dark air: silent she stood as night; For never from her iron tongue could voice or sound arise, But dumb till that dread day when Orc assay'd his fierce embrace. 'Dark Virgin,' said the hairy youth, 'thy father stern, abhorr'd, Rivets my tenfold chains while still on high my spirit soars; Sometimes an Eagle screaming in the sky, sometimes a Lion Stalking upon the mountains, and sometimes a Whale, I lash The raging fathomless abyss; anon a Serpent folding Around the pillars of Urthona, and round thy dark limbs On the Canadian wilds I fold; feeble my spirit folds, For chain'd beneath I rend these caverns: when thou bringest food I howl my joy, and my red eyes seek to behold thy face-- In vain! these clouds roll to and fro, and hide thee from my sight.' Silent as despairing love, and strong as jealousy, The hairy shoulders rend the links; free are the wrists of fire; Round the terrific loins he seiz'd the panting, struggling womb; It joy'd: she put aside her clouds and smiled her first-born smile, As when a black cloud shews its lightnings to the silent deep. Soon as she saw the terrible boy, then burst the virgin cry: 'I know thee, I have found thee, and I will not let thee go: Thou art the image of God who dwells in darkness of Africa, And thou art fall'n to give me life in regions of dark death.On my American plains I feel the struggling afflictions Endur'd by roots that writhe their arms into the nether deep. I see a Serpent in Canada who courts me to his love, In Mexico an Eagle, and a Lion in Peru; I see a Whale in the south-sea, drinking my soul away. O what limb-rending pains I feel! thy fire and my frost Mingle in howling pains, in furrows by thy lightnings rent. This is eternal death, and this the torment long foretold.'","William Blake","{
    ""55"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 55,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:49"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""america""
    }
}"
56,"2018-02-27 03:36:24","America For Me poem","'Tis fine to see the Old World and travel up and down Among the famous palaces and cities of renown, To admire the crumblyh castles and the statues and kings But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things. So it's home again, and home again, America for me! My heart is turning home again and there I long to be, In the land of youth and freedom, beyond the ocean bars, Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars. Oh, London is a man's town, there's power in the air; And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair; And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great to study Rome; But when it comes to living there is no place like home. I like the German fir-woods in green battalions drilled; I like the gardens of Versailles with flashing foutains filled; But, oh, to take your had, my dear, and ramble for a day In the friendly western woodland where Nature has her sway! I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to lack! The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back. But the glory of the Present is to make the Future free-- We love our land for what she is and what she is to be. Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me! I want a ship that's westward bound to plough the rolling sea, To the blessed Land of Room Enough, beyond the ocean bars, Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.","Henry Van Dyke","{
    ""56"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 56,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:49"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""america""
    }
}"
57,"2018-02-27 03:36:26","A Prophecy: To George Keats In America poem","'Tis the witching hour of night,Orbed is the moon and bright,And the stars they glisten, glisten,Seeming with bright eyes to listen --For what listen they?For a song and for a charm,See they glisten in alarm,And the moon is waxing warmTo hear what I shall say.Moon! keep wide thy golden ears --Hearken, stars! and hearken, spheres! --Hearken, thou eternal sky!I sing an infant's lullaby,A pretty lullaby.Listen, listen, listen, listen, Glisten, glisten, glisten, glisten,And hear my lullaby!Though the rushes that will makeIts cradle still are in the lake -- Though the linen that will beIts swathe, is on the cotton tree --Though the woollen that will keepIt warm, is on the silly sheep --Listen, starlight, listen, listen,Glisten, glisten, glisten, glisten,And hear my lullaby!Child, I see thee! Child, I've found theeMidst of the quiet all around thee!And thy mother sweet is nigh thee!But a Poet evermore!See, see, the lyre, the lyre,In a flame of fire,Upon the little cradle's topFlaring, flaring, flaring,Past the eyesight's bearing,Awake it from its sleep,And see if it can keepIts eyes upon the blaze --Amaze, amaze!It stares, it stares, it stares,It dares what no one dares!It lifts its little hand into the flameUnharm'd, and on the stringsPaddles a little tune, and sings,With dumb endeavour sweetly --Bard art thou completely!Little childO' th' western wild,Bard art thou completely!Sweetly with dumb endeavour,A Poet now or never,Little childO' th' western wild,A Poet now or never!","John Keats","{
    ""57"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 57,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:49"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""america""
    }
}"
58,"2018-02-27 03:36:30","America poem","IWhere the wings of a sunny Dome expandI saw a Banner in gladsome air-Starry, like Berenice's Hair-Afloat in broadened bravery there; With undulating long-drawn flow,As rolled Brazilian billows goVoluminously o'er the Line.The Land reposed in peace below; The children in their gleeWere folded to the exulting heartOf young Maternity.IILater, and it streamed in fightWhen tempest mingled with the fray,And over the spear-point of the shaftI saw the ambiguous lightning play.Valor with Valor strove, and died:Fierce was Despair, and cruel was Pride; And the lorn Mother speechless stood,Pale at the fury of her brood.IIIYet later, and the silk did windHer fair cold for; Little availed the shining shroud,Though ruddy in hue, to cheer or warmA watcher looked upon her low, and said-She sleeps, but sleeps, she is not dead.But in that sleep contortion showedThe terror of the vision there-A silent vision unavowed,Revealing earth's foundation bare,And Gorgon in her hidden place.It was a thing of fear to seeSo foul a dream upon so fair a face,And the dreamer lying in that starry shroud.IVBut from the trance she sudden broke-The trance, or death into promoted life; At her feet a shivered yoke,And in her aspect turned to heavenNo trace of passion or of strife-A clear calm look. It spake of pain,But such as purifies from stain-Sharp pangs that never come again-And triumph repressed by knowledge meet,Power delicate, and hope grown wise,And youth matured for age's seat-Law on her brow and empire in her eyes.So she, with graver air and lifted flag; While the shadow, chased by light,Fled along the far-brawn height,And left her on the crag.","Herman Melville","{
    ""58"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 58,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:49"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""america""
    }
}"
59,"2018-02-27 03:36:37","America, America! poem","I am a poet of the Hudson River and the heights above it, the lights, the stars, and the bridgesI am also by self-appointment the laureate of the Atlantic -of the peoples' hearts, crossing it to new America.I am burdened with the truck and chimera, hope, acquired in the sweating sick-excited passage in steerage, strange and estrangedHence I must descry and describe the kingdom of emotion.For I am a poet of the kindergarten (in the city) and the cemetery (in the city)And rapture and ragtime and also the secret city in the heart and mindThis is the song of the natural city self in the 20th century.It is true but only partly true that a city is a ""tyranny of numbers""(This is the chant of the urban metropolitan and metaphysical selfAfter the first two World Wars of the 20th century)--- This is the city self, looking from window to lighted windowWhen the squares and checks of faintly yellow lightShine at night, upon a huge dim board and slab-like tombs,Hiding many lives. It is the city consciousnessWhich sees and says: more: more and more: always more.","Delmore Schwartz","{
    ""59"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 59,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:49"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""america""
    }
}"
60,"2018-02-27 03:36:39","America poem","I love thine inland seas, Thy groves of giant trees,Thy rolling plains;Thy rivers' mighty sweep, Thy mystic canyons deep, Thy mountains wild and steep,All thy domains; Thy silver Eastern strands, Thy Golden Gate that standsWide to the West;Thy flowery Southland fair, Thy sweet and crystal air, --O land beyond compare,Thee I love best! Additional verses for the National Hymn, March, 1906.","Henry Van Dyke","{
    ""60"": {
        ""category_1_x_poem.id"": 60,
        ""category_1.id"": 2,
        ""category_1.ts"": ""2018-02-27 03:06:49"",
        ""category_1.title"": ""america""
    }
}"