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A selection of random funny poems from our vast
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The Untold Want by Walt Whitman
The untold want, by life and land ne'er granted,
Now, Voyager, sail thou forth, to seek and find.
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One Hour To Madness And Joy by Walt Whitman
One hour to madness and joy!
O furious! O confine me not!
(What is this that frees me so in storms?
What do my shouts amid lightnings and raging winds mean?)
O to drink the mystic deliria deeper than any other man!
O savage and tender achings!
(I bequeath them to you, my children,
I tell them to you, for reasons, O bridegroom and bride.)
O to be yielded to you, whoever you are, and you to be yielded to me,
in defiance of the world!
O to return to Paradise! O bashful and feminine!
O to draw you to me--to plant on you for the first time the lips of a
determin'd man!
O the puzzle--the thrice-tied knot--the deep and dark pool! O all
untied and illumin'd!
O to speed where there is space enough and air enough at last!
O to be absolv'd from previous ties and conventions--I from mine, and
you from yours!
O to find a new unthought-of nonchalance with the best of nature!
O to have the gag remov'd from one's mouth!
O to have the feeling, to-day or any day, I am sufficient as I am!
O something unprov'd! something in a trance!
O madness amorous! O trembling!
O to escape utterly from others' anchors and holds!
To drive free! to love free! to dash reckless and dangerous!
To court destruction with taunts--with invitations!
To ascend--to leap to the heavens of the love indicated to me!
To rise thither with my inebriate Soul!
To be lost, if it must be so!
To feed the remainder of life with one hour of fulness and freedom!
With one brief hour of madness and joy
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Thought - 7 by Walt Whitman
As I sit with others, at a great feast, suddenly, while the music is
playing,
To my mind, (whence it comes I know not,) spectral, in mist, of a
wreck at sea;
Of certain ships--how they sail from port with flying streamers, and
wafted kisses--and that is the last of them!
Of the solemn and murky mystery about the fate of the President;
Of the flower of the marine science of fifty generations, founder'd
off the Northeast coast, and going down--Of the steamship
Arctic going down,
Of the veil'd tableau--Women gather'd together on deck, pale, heroic,
waiting the moment that draws so close--O the moment!
A huge sob--A few bubbles--the white foam spirting up--And then the
women gone,
Sinking there, while the passionless wet flows on--And I now
pondering, Are those women indeed gone?
Are Souls drown'd and destroy'd so?
Is only matter triumphant?
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Germs by Walt Whitman
Forms, qualities, lives, humanity, language, thoughts,
The ones known, and the ones unknown--the ones on the stars,
The stars themselves, some shaped, others unshaped,
Wonders as of those countries--the soil, trees, cities, inhabitants,
whatever they may be,
Splendid suns, the moons and rings, the countless combinations and
effects;
Such-like, and as good as such-like, visible here or anywhere, stand
provided for in a handful of space, which I extend my arm and
half enclose with my hand;
That contains the start of each and all--the virtue, the germs of
all.
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