A Tale of Starvation (Amy Lowell Poem)
There once was a man whom the gods didn't love, And a disagreeable man was he. He loathed his neighbours, ...
There once was a man whom the gods didn't love, And a disagreeable man was he. He loathed his neighbours, ...
"Honor be to Mudjekeewis!" Cried the warriors, cried the old men, When he came in triumph homeward With the sacred ...
Away by the lands of the Japanee Where the paper lanterns glow And the crews of all the shipping drink ...
This morning Hitler spoke in Danzig, we hear his voice. A man of genius: that is, of amazing Ability, courage, ...
Out through the fields and the woods And over the walls I have wended; I have climbed the hills of ...
Daily the cortege of crumpled defunct cars goes by by the lasagna- layered flatbed truckload: hardtop reverting to tar smudge, ...
Three notes I allowed aloud to sum the August beachiness of herring gull railway pigeon otherwise birdless fishless conjoin - ...
"Oh yes, I went over to Edmonstoun the other day and saw Johnny, mooning around as usual! He will never ...
And the first grey of morning fill'd the east, And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream. But all ...
WHEN chapman billies leave the street, And drouthy neibors, neibors, meet; As market days are wearing late, And folk begin ...
A Tale "Of Brownyis and of Bogilis full is this Buke." -Gawin Douglas. When chapman billies leave the street, And ...
I. ENOUGH ! we're tired, my heart and I. We sit beside the headstone thus, And wish that name were ...
WITH BLACKEST moss the flower-plots Were thickly crusted, one and all: The rusted nails fell from the knots That held ...
The hand that signed the paper felled a city; Five sovereign fingers taxed the breath, Doubled the globe of dead ...
These black bush-waters, heavy with crusted boughs Like plumes above dead captains, wake the mind.... Uncounted kissing, unremembered vows, Nights ...
One must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with snow; ...
I Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knife us . . . Wearied we keep awake ...
That slim creek out of the sky the dried-blood western gum tree is all stir in its high reaches: its ...
My brother comes home from work and climbs the stairs to our room. I can hear the bed groan and ...
The last of day gathers in the yellow parlor and drifts like fine dust across the face of the gilt-framed ...
My soul is sailing through the sea, But the Past is heavy and hindereth me. The Past hath crusted cumbrous ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories