Returning Home (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
A start of a new year, After the distance, the falling away Of the summer days, together again Singing, praying, ...
Poems about catching (36 Poems)
Running (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
She was running this morning early Sunday morning while we drove by on the way to church black top, black ...
Fresh Fruit (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Bright, young faces sitting on the steps, in the chancel drinking in the words of the pastor hearing of the ...
New Leaves (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
New sunlight first rays in the morning cutting over the tree line down through the woods into the yard Catching ...
Cold Rain, Wet Snow (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
A cold gray afternoon cocooned indoors, watching the scene change outside, in the colors, the feel, the mood morphing day, ...
Down by the River (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Down by the river, we played, dreamed, explored alone and together, bikes left by the rock piles, Climbing, hiking, claiming ...
Tabernacle (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Without walls, just the tent the place of the meeting for the people where God lived before the Temple before ...
Shades of (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
How do you capture living, changing color the shades of sunset, across the dome, the panorama, the full circle catching ...
Christmas Continues (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
We had another day of Christmas more family time, more presents, another big meal, another house full of squeals for ...
A Leaf Fell (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
a shriveled, curled leaf fluttered toward the ground as I stood, still, watching its path gliding, curling through the December ...
Running in the Park (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
A family of five with three balls, and stomachs still full of turkey, of pancakes, and sausage ran and played ...
Staring into the Flame (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Sitting still, quiet, alone, in the living room of my boyhood alone with my thoughts after the Christmas day watching ...
Saturated Red (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Wet red blooms catching the sunlight drinking in the color, overwhelm the senses rich smooth velvety red crimson flowers bursting ...
Climbing Jet, Soaring Raptor (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Driving home, October noontime a hawk to my left, above the tree line, catching the thermals off the highway It ...
Summer Rain (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
A break in the heat away from the front no thunder, no lightning, just rain, warm rain falling near dusk ...
Hands in the Air (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
I couldn't see whether they were for a boy or a girl never had that chance all I saw was ...
Strand (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
A glint of gossamer Single strand, Bowed in the wind Tethered to branch and bench Undulating, snapping Refracting when still ...
Joanne (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
The violin sang over the hum, the rumble the guitars by her side They held the rhythm oh, but she ...
She’s an Artist (Raymond A. Foss Poems)
Miss Erica is right looking at the handiwork of the spinster on the loom rich clear lines of silk spun ...
Laughing in the Rain (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
No one's timetable governed our steps up with the first light long before the sun rose over the slate blue ...
The Mocking-Bird (Henry Van Dyke Poem)
In mirth he mocks the other birds at noon, Catching the lilt of every easy tune; But when the day ...
I gained it so (Emily Dickinson Poem)
I gained it so -- By Climbing slow -- By Catching at the Twigs that grow Between the Bliss -- ...
Heccar and Gaira (Thomas Chatterton Poem)
Where the rough Caigra rolls the surgy wave, Urging his thunders thro' the echoing cave; Where the sharp rocks, in ...
May (John Clare Poem)
Come queen of months in company Wi all thy merry minstrelsy The restless cuckoo absent long And twittering swallows chimney ...
The Flood (John Clare Poem)
On Lolham Brigs in wild and lonely mood I've seen the winter floods their gambols play Through each old arch ...
I Go Back To The House For A Book (Billy Collins Poem)
I turn around on the gravel and go back to the house for a book, something to read at the ...
Marginalia (Billy Collins Poem)
Sometimes the notes are ferocious, skirmishes against the author raging along the borders of every page in tiny black script. ...
Folk Tune (Joseph Brodsky Poem)
It's not that the Muse feels like clamming up, it's more like high time for the lad's last nap. And ...
Elegy (Joseph Brodsky Poem)
It's not that the Muse feels like clamming up, it's more like high time for the lad's last nap. And ...
Part 6 of Trout Fishing in America (Richard Brautigan Poem)
THE HUNCHBACK TROUT The creek was made narrow by little green trees that grew too close together. The creek was ...