The Howl Poem is a famous poem which is written by Allen Ginsberg in 1955 and this poem became the best work of the Beat Generation. The poem is famous for its impactful, strong and emotional words and the way it captures the feelings of the poeple who felt out of place in the society. He wrote the struggles of his friends and the challenges they faced in their life.
The poem is written in long, flowing lines that almost seem like a smooth flow of thoughts. The poet used some shocking imagery which makes the readers feel the intensity of his emotions. Howl is not just a poem but it is a cry for the change and understanding. The poem has inspired many people to think about the society in some different ways and to seek out their own truths.
You can also find Haiku Poems in this blog. These poems also provides a way to connect with nature and find peace in everyday life. They often focuses on the multiple seasons of the weather or quite moments. Writing or reading Haiku can help people feel more present and aware of their own surroundings. Despite the simplicity of these poems, they have a powerful impact and leave a lasting impression on the person who reads them. Make sure to read all of the poems and do not forget to share with your friends and family.
Happy reading!!!!
Howl Poem
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.
The moon, like a flower,
In heaven’s high bower,
With silent delight
Sits and smiles on the night.
Where flocks have took delight.
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping bosom.
Where birds are covered warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm.
If they see any weeping
That should have been sleeping,
They pour sleep on their head,
And sit down by their bed.
They pitying stand and weep;
Seeking to drive their thirst away,
And keep them from the sheep.
But if they rush dreadful,
The angels, most heedful,
Receive each mild spirit,
New worlds to inherit.
Shall flow with tears of gold,
And pitying the tender cries,
And walking round the fold,
Saying, ‘Wrath, by His meekness,
And, by His health, sickness
Is driven away
From our immortal day.
I can lie down and sleep;
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee and weep.
For, washed in life’s river,
My bright mane for ever
Shall shine like the gold
As I guard o’er the fold.’
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Howl Poem Allen Ginsberg
I don’t care what happens to my body
throw ashes in the air, scatter ’em in East River
bury an urn in Elizabeth New Jersey, B’nai Israel Cemetery
But l want a big funeral
St. Patrick’s Cathedral, St. Mark’s Church, the largest synagogue in
Manhattan
96, Aunt Honey from old Newark,
Doctor Joel, cousin Mindy, brother Gene one eyed one ear’d, sister-
in-law blonde Connie, five nephews, stepbrothers & sisters
their grandchildren,
companion Peter Orlovsky, caretakers Rosenthal & Hale, Bill Morgan-
Next, teacher Trungpa Vajracharya’s ghost mind, Gelek Rinpoche,
there Sakyong Mipham, Dalai Lama alert, chance visiting
America, Satchitananda Swami
Katagiri & Suzuki Roshi’s phantoms
Baker, Whalen, Daido Loorie, Qwong, Frail White-haired Kapleau
Roshis, Lama Tarchen –
Then, most important, lovers over half-century
Dozens, a hundred, more, older fellows bald & rich
young boys met naked recently in bed, crowds surprised to see each
other, innumerable, intimate, exchanging memories
day retreat – ‘
‘I played music on subway platforms, I’m straight but loved him he
loved me’
‘I felt more love from him at 19 than ever from anyone’
‘We’d lie under covers gossip, read my poetry, hug & kiss belly to belly
arms round each other’
‘I’d always get into his bed with underwear on & by morning my
skivvies would be on the floor’
‘We’d talk all night about Kerouac & Cassady sit Buddhalike then
sleep in his captain’s bed.’
‘He seemed to need so much affection, a shame not to make him happy’
‘I was lonely never in bed nude with anyone before, he was so gentle my
stomach
shuddered when he traced his finger along my abdomen nipple to hips- ‘
‘All I did was lay back eyes closed, he’d bring me to come with mouth
& fingers along my waist’
‘He gave great head’
So there be gossip from loves of 1948, ghost of Neal Cassady commin-
gling with flesh and youthful blood of 1997
and surprise – ‘You too?
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Howl Ginsberg Poem
‘I forgot whether I was straight gay queer or funny, was myself, tender
and affectionate to be kissed on the top of my head,
my forehead throat heart & solar plexus, mid-belly. on my prick,
tickled with his tongue my behind’
‘I loved the way he’d recite ‘But at my back allways hear/ time’s winged
chariot hurrying near,’ heads together, eye to eye, on a
pillow – ‘
Among lovers one handsome youth straggling the rear
‘I studied his poetry class, 17 year-old kid, ran some errands to his
walk-up flat,
again never wanted to… ‘
‘He couldn’t get it up but loved me,’ ‘A clean old man.’ ‘He made
sure I came first’
This the crowd most surprised proud at ceremonial place of honor-
Then poets & musicians – college boys’ grunge bands – age-old rock
star Beatles, faithful guitar accompanists, gay classical con-
ductors, unknown high Jazz music composers, funky trum-
peters, bowed bass & french horn black geniuses, folksinger
fiddlers with dobro tamborine harmonica mandolin auto-
harp pennywhistles & kazoos
Late fauve Tuscan painter-poets, Classic draftsman Massa-
chusets surreal jackanapes with continental wives, poverty
sketchbook gesso oil watercolor masters from American
provinces
Then highschool teachers, lonely Irish librarians, delicate biblio-
philes, sex liberation troops nay armies, ladies of either sex
‘I met him dozens of times he never remembered my name I loved
him anyway, true artist’
from suicide hospitals’
‘Charmant, genius with modest manners, washed sink, dishes my
studio guest a week in Budapest’
Thousands of readers, ‘Howl changed my life in Libertyville Illinois’
‘I saw him read Montclair State Teachers College decided be a poet- ‘
‘He turned me on, I started with garage rock sang my songs in Kansas
City’
‘Kaddish made me weep for myself & father alive in Nevada City’
‘Father Death comforted me when my sister died Boston l982’
‘I read what he said in a newsmagazine, blew my mind, realized
others like me out there’
Then Journalists, editors’s secretaries, agents, portraitists & photo-
graphy aficionados, rock critics, cultured laborors, cultural
historians come to witness the historic funeral
Super-fans, poetasters, aging Beatnicks & Deadheads, autograph-
hunters, distinguished paparazzi, intelligent gawkers
Everyone knew they were part of ‘History’ except the deceased
who never knew exactly what was happening even when I was alive
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