Hurry Up Please It’s Time (Anne Sexton Poems)
What is death, I ask. What is life, you ask. I give them both my buttocks, my two wheels rolling ...
What is death, I ask. What is life, you ask. I give them both my buttocks, my two wheels rolling ...
The cloakroom pegs are empty now, And locked the classroom door, The hollow desks are lined with dust, And slow ...
I brought one of my canoe paddles to the poetry presentation at school passing it around in the classroom watching ...
So many times, like a teacher in a classroom choosing who will pray, over the food Their hands, their bodies ...
We added words, one by one onto the blackboard at the front of the classroom little arms raised in the ...
Now this was a conversation, as I learned later, that was not in the right place a high school classroom, ...
Feeble knats Buzzing in my classroom Inane questions Blank looks On doe-like faces Frozen in time By my knowledge Unable ...
Not a Gorton's Fisherman, no he doesn't have the hands, the weathered brow, the smell of fish, or the sound ...
As a child I played in the same frosty fields barefoot as my no lesser loved classmates, whom we challenged ...
The early sun is so pale and shadowy, I could be looking up at a ghost in the shape of ...
In the same dream I am lying in the hollow of a boat, My forehead and eyes against the curved ...
THE PUDDING MASTER OF STANLEY BASIN Tree, snow and rock beginnings, the mountain in back of the lake promised us ...
call it the greenhouse effect or whatever but it just doesn't rain like it used to. I particularly remember the ...
There was a hope for poetry in the sixties And for education and society, teachers free To do as they ...
It brings to mind Swift leaving a fortune to Dublin 'For the founding of a lunatic asylum - no place ...
We were three weeks Into term, Sheila, When you came Through the classroom door; Forty-four children Bent over books, Copying ...
Why is it that in dreams I have visited - As teacher or pupil - almost every college and school ...
In the thin classroom, where your face was noble and your words were all things, I find this boily creature ...
What is death, I ask. What is life, you ask. I give them both my buttocks, my two wheels rolling ...
If Ezra Pound were alive today (and he is) he'd be teaching at a small college in the Pacific Northwest ...
Chaos ruled OK in the classroom as bravely the teacher walked in the nooligans ignored him hid voice was lost ...
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