Imagination (James Avis Bartley Poems)
Now fir'd imagination soars on high, and showsMagnific scenes. The first--a summer's dawn--A sky of purest blue--a golden seaBeneath--earth bright ...
Now fir'd imagination soars on high, and showsMagnific scenes. The first--a summer's dawn--A sky of purest blue--a golden seaBeneath--earth bright ...
The tower of old Saint Nicholas soared upward to the skies,Like some huge piece of Nature's make, the growth of ...
IBeautiful-bosomed, O Night, in thy noonMove with majesty onward! soaring, as lightlyAs a singer may soar the notes of an ...
Regal the earth seems with diamonds today, Gemming all nature in blazing array; A picture more fairy-like never could be Than this wonderful ...
From the ridges east of NormanIn a narrow strip of landGrow the barite crystal roses,The oklahoma roses, crystallized in sand.From ...
CAPTURE OF THE FIRE-FISH.Wainamoinen, the enchanter,The eternal wisdom-singer,Long reflected, well considered,How to weave the net of flax-yarn,Weave the fish-net of ...
When I have a house . . . as I sometime may . . .I'll suit my fancy in every ...
A crystallization of color spreads from the upper regions of the dark sky towards the trembling nipples of the waves. ...
Uninterruptedly falls the snow,Like meagre, long wool-strands, scant and slow,O'er the meagre, long plain disconsolate.Cold with lovelessness, warm with hate.Infinite, ...
Fairest of all the fair ones I have seen, Fairest of all, in feature not alone, Nor form, nor grace, ...
Corpses piled up on the curb limbs becoming bare in the winter air, shadows of the needles fallen below on ...
Out the side, the edge of my vision so are many of the sources of my poetry the images out ...
It was as if the synapses were growing in my mind, as he spoke He was, God was connecting the ...
I wanted to call this "walking with the prophet" Because I feel he was more like the exhorter Elijah Guiding ...
Early Sunday morning leaving the highway Sparkles off the shoulder draw our gaze Light refracting and pulsing new frost clinging ...
What conversazzhyonies wuz I really did not know, For that, you must remember, wuz a powerful spell ago; The camp ...
another day is here and my hands are still covered with a mantle of stoic ink words scribbled on a ...
I. The morn when first it thunders in March, The eel in the pond gives a leap, they say: As ...
Wasted, wasted minutes that couldn't be worse, minutes of a barbaric condescension. --Stare out the bathroom window at the fir-trees, ...
The cypress stood up like a church That night we felt our love would hold, And saintly moonlight seemed to ...
(1) This is the sea, then, this great abeyance. How the sun's poultice draws on my inflammation. Electrifyingly-colored sherbets, scooped ...
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