Ode Poems
Ode To A Nightingale
by John Keats
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thy happiness,---
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
......
Ode To Evening
by William Collins
If aught of oaten stop or pastoral song
May hope, chaste Eve, to soothe thy modest ear,
Like thy own solemn springs,
Thy springs, and dying gales,
O nymph reserved, while now the bright-haired sun
Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts,
With brede ethereal wove,
O'erhang his wavy bed:
Now air is hushed, save where the weak-eyed bat
......
Ode On The Spring
by Thomas Gray
Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours,
Fair Venus' train appear,
Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
And wake the purple year!
The Attic warbler pours her throat,
Responsive to the cuckoo's note,
The untaught harmony of spring:
While whisp'ring pleasure as they fly,
Cool zephyrs thro' the clear blue sky
Their gather'd fragrance fling.
......
And Then There Were None (For Agatha Christie)
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
I’ve only desired to light old lamps with young wicks
(the tongues of flame must be blinking hard with vigilance)
Across dark, mildewed alcoves that smell of ink —her writing ink —
But one thing led to the other, and the ink I
Found froze in my eyes, the bottle instantly petrified among desert ruins.
I searched, from my village to Nantucket, borrowing
The courage of voyaging storms, seeking earnestly her quill feather,
Just to caress her pretty face with it.
But the power of distance arrested me midway and warned me
Of the dangers of costly adventures.
......
Ode To Aphrodite
by Sappho
Deathless Aphrodite, throned in flowers,
Daughter of Zeus, O terrible enchantress,
With this sorrow, with this anguish, break my spirit
Lady, not longer!
Hear anew the voice! O hear and listen!
Come, as in that island dawn thou camest,
Billowing in thy yoked car to Sappho
Forth from thy father's
......
And Then There Were None (For Agatha Christie)
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
I’ve only desired to light old lamps with young wicks
(the tongues of flame must be blinking hard with vigilance)
Across dark, mildewed alcoves that smell of ink —her writing ink —
But one thing led to the other, and the ink I
Found froze in my eyes, the bottle instantly petrified among desert ruins.
I searched, from my village to Nantucket, borrowing
The courage of voyaging storms, seeking earnestly her quill feather,
Just to caress her pretty face with it.
But the power of distance arrested me midway and warned me
Of the dangers of costly adventures.
......
Laughter (For Lucille Ball)
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
Laughter creased my face
With the wideness of joy in a darling
Hallooing loudly, Hawaii!
Making me younger with weakly wrinkles,
It warmed my heart with a flaming ring of mirth.
And I liked it.
I watched the waves as they rose and fell,
Like the big flattered locks of a comely
Landlady combing her tresses on a windy, snoopy
Sunday morning.
......
Ode to a Journalist
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
You made up your mind to view the world
With different eyes —eyes recessed, eyes inundated with lustre,
Straining to catch every flight of the dancing seasons that hurled
Man and beast beyond frontiers with baluster.
You are the town-crier of our time, delivering messages printed on banners
That hail the energy of the heated earth.
What a voice you possess! So smooth and euphonious, it rings loud and clear
With the gumption of a king’s augurer, leaving behind manners
That haunt us pleasantly with bliss and mirth,
Suggesting frantically the suavity of a seer
......
For Christopher Okigbo
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
For you were a shrub among the poplars,
Evergreen and watery seeds your watchword
Scribbling knowledge in spilt-milk saga
Set pace for the observing world which in
Foetus I did follow, after the mighty fall
That very spot at the Nsukka Front should know
No deletion; let it grow shrubs for Okigbo’s wreaths,
And, poplars, in one single trunk, be his monument of a
Shrub among the Poplars.
And let the HEAVENSGATE open for him.
......
ICE : Ode to Self
by Ghairo Daniels
I C E : Ode to Self
few Hearts can fancy dress their
nakedness in icicle Presence
fewer minds will slip into cemetery’s dusk
soul appears, no hectic heady harkening
glancing what is needed or already seeded
Insight measures wisdom, not cerebral chancing
silence answers chaos, no questions
......
-
Franklin Pierce Adams (13 poems about Ode)
F.P.A.] (15 November 1881 – 23 March 1960 / Chicago, Illinois -
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-