Oatmeal (Galway Kinnell Poem)
I eat oatmeal for breakfast. I make it on the hot plate and put skimmed milk on it. I eat ...
I eat oatmeal for breakfast. I make it on the hot plate and put skimmed milk on it. I eat ...
Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse! O first-born on the mountains! by the hues Of heaven on the spiritual ...
(From Frise on the Somme in February, 1917, in answer to a letter saying: "I am just finishing my 'Faun's ...
The race run the journey complete walking humbly faithful to God Christ dying hanging on the cross giving his life ...
A message of trust of complete fulfillment in finishing what had begun submitting in the garden Christ offering up his ...
Each day, each hour the challenge of God's love the call of God's grace to walk with you each day ...
The final stones gathered placed where they are needed finishing the circle the symmetry complete The trees rimmed matching the ...
Standing on water buoyed by your love even when the winds make some standing confidently knowing you can hold me ...
As certain of the strider counting on the surface tension to buoy it up on its feet We are to ...
Listening only to my breathing my throbbing heartbeat my headache growing, pounding as I ate of the bread he broke ...
Looking down, my dirty hands, dust of the stones gathered and placed labyrinth stones dividing the rows the grime of ...
Even as he was giving a blessing only known to the faithful gathered there with him Christ was carried up, ...
Her final Summer was it -- And yet We guessed it not -- If tenderer industriousness Pervaded Her, We thought ...
As a kid I believed in democracy: I 'saw no alternative'â?"teaching at The Big Place I ah put it in ...
When the molten earth seethed in its whirling cauldron nobody watched the pot from a tall wooden stool set out ...
I say to my woman, "Jeffers was a great poet. think of a title like Be Angry At The Sun. ...
I remember Galileo describing the mind as a piece of paper blown around by the wind, and I loved the ...
Five hours, (and who can do it less in?) By haughty Celia spent in dressing; The goddess from her chamber ...
GReat wrong I doe, I can it not deny, to that most sacred Empresse my dear dred, not finishing her ...
LAST night a January wind was ripping at the shingles over our house and whistling a wolf song under the ...
OR The Child Is Father Of The Man, But Not For Quite A While So Thomas Edison Never drank his ...
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