Cherry-Time (Robert Graves Poem)
Cherries of the night are riper Than the cherries pluckt at noon Gather to your fairy piper When he pipes ...
Cherries of the night are riper Than the cherries pluckt at noon Gather to your fairy piper When he pipes ...
A dove lived in a village. When it opened its mouth sweetness came out, sound like a silver light around ...
The flower in the glass peanut bottle formerly in the kitchen crooked to take a place in the light, the ...
I Whom bomb? We bomb them! Whom bomb? We bomb them! Whom bomb? We bomb them! Whom bomb? We bomb ...
Drinking my tea Without sugar- No difference. The sparrow shits upside down --ah! my brain & eggs Mayan head in ...
Seeping into our consciousness the images, the smells the lessons of the cherry blossoms the truths we know so well ...
The sadness heavy hanging down on her a lead cloak draped over her frame Hope turned to sadness weighing her ...
A reminder of mortality in the falling blossoms captured on images the spirit of their nation The ancient screens images ...
In my mind's eye remembering some that I had seen the words on the radio speaking to me In lines ...
Like bolls of color yet falling from the branches the heavy blossoms of the cherry tree Beauty in each cluster ...
Somehow appropriate the imagery of destruction the counterpoint of the blossoms the sacred cherry trees Something precious in the transience ...
Oh it was too easy, in my rush after the traffic to the bank, the banter of the customers marking ...
This morning, that spring morning light, something special, magical, the low dim, soft light illumining the treetops, the nascent buds, ...
I remember well making that old little trivet popsicle sticks, real ones not craft sticks made for that purpose these ...
Not coffeecake though they evoke memories too no it was a tea ring, cinnamon, raisins, white icing and a maraschino ...
SHE stood against the kitchen sink, and looked Over the sink out through a dusty window At weeds the water ...
We chanced in passing by that afternoon To catch it in a sort of special picture Among tar-banded ancient cherry ...
There is a singer everyone has heard, Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird, Who makes the solid tree trunks ...
I cannot spare water or wine, Tobacco-leaf, or poppy, or rose; From the earth-poles to the Line, All between that ...
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro' the house, Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The ...
I said goodbye and went to bed to die; I never knew that they had lied - was quite surprised ...
The turquoise pool rose up to meet us, its slide a silver afterthought down which we plunged, screaming, into a ...
Every month or so, Sundays, we walked the line, The limit and the boundary. Past the sweet gum Superb above ...
I wanted to see the self, so I looked at the mulberry. It had no trouble accepting its limits, yet ...
AN ALPHABET OF FAMOUS GOOPS. Which you 'll Regard with Yells and Whoops. Futile Acumen! For you Yourselves are Doubtless ...
ANOTHER METHOD OF MAKING WALNUT CATSUP And this is a very small cookbook for Trout Fishing in America as if ...
WORSEWICK Worsewick Hot Springs was nothing fancy. Somebody put some boards across the creek. That was it. The boards dammed ...
The oak tree: not interested in cherry blossoms. (Matsuo Basho)
You read-what is it, then that you are reading? What music moves so silently in your mind? Your bright hand ...
Everything's looted, betrayed and traded, black death's wing's overhead. Everything's eaten by hunger, unsated, so why does a light shine ...
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