Yes, mountains remind me of Psyche, and Psyche of sorrow, and, sorrow of Beatrice.
from Psyche / by Beatrice Hawley
Now, the mountain is hushed.
The men steal away, eyes down. Night falls.
Psyche remembers her dolls, the pots she took
to play at house. This is where it leads.
Dreams, war.
from Poem Without a Hero / by Anna Akhmatova
But a dream — is also something real,
Soft embalmer, Blue Bird,
The parapets and terraces of Elsinore.
War, dreams, home.
from In Your War Dream / by Richard Hugo
You ask, “Why must I do this again?” A man
replies, “Home.” You fly over one country
after another. The nations are bright, like a map.
Fathers and sons (written on the back of one of his father’s letters) and rivers.
from The Negro Speaks of Rivers / by Langston Hughes
I’ve known rivers:
I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins.
Fathers and sons.
from Youth / by James Wright
I know his ghost will drift home
To the Ohio River, and sit down, alone,
Whittling a root.
Mothers and daughters and a prayer.
from Things Shouldn’t Be So Hard / by Kay Ryan
The passage
of a life should show;
it should abrade.
Mothers and daughters.
from Twenty Weeks / by Catherine Tufariello
In every weather,
Wisdom and grace guard you together
And shelter you from harm and storm,
Who now lie heedless, dreamless, warm,
Curled in your dark honeycomb
Asleep, exactly halfway home.
Fathers and daughters.
from The Writer / by Richard Wilbur
It is always a matter, my darling,
Of life or death, as I had forgotten. I wish
What I wished you before, but harder.
Mothers and sons. And, ongoing mentor, friend, teaching us, one by one, to dive into the wreck and to grasp something worth bringing to light.
from The Farm / by William Logan
The kerosene lamp had gone out.
There was a ragged Bible in this dream,
open to Isaiah.
Dreams, automated objective correlatives.
from The Man-Moth / by Elizabeth Bishop
Each night he must
be carried through artificial tunnels and dream recurrent dreams.
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