Off the Turnpike (Amy Lowell Poem)
Good ev'nin', Mis' Priest. I jest stepped in to tell you Good-bye. Yes, it's all over. All my things is ...
Good ev'nin', Mis' Priest. I jest stepped in to tell you Good-bye. Yes, it's all over. All my things is ...
A music-stand of crimson lacquer, long since brought In some fast clipper-ship from China, quaintly wrought With bossed and carven ...
And, yeah brothers while white America sings about the unsinkable molly brown (who was hustling the titanic when it went ...
Despite the noon sun shimmering on Court Street, each day I leave my desk, and window-shop, waste time, and use ...
I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern ...
The Jew, the Gentile the poor, the lame the one who grabbed the brass ring all of us treated equally ...
The visual texture the fallen branch, before she grabbed it wielded it like a sword Down on the ground crouch ...
Agent Ferman of the FBI Came and looked me in the eye Grabbed me from my house I had to ...
Memory: I can take my head and strike it on a wall on Cumberland Island Where the night tide came ...
"I've been having these awful dreams, each a little different, though the core's the same- we're walking in a field, ...
The Banker's Fate They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care; They pursued it with forks and hope; ...
Dedication Inscribed to a dear Child: in memory of golden summer hours and whispers of a summer sea. Girt with ...
An apple arc'd toward Kleitos; whose great King wroth & of wine did study where his sword, sneaked away, might ...
god I got the sad blue blues, this woman sat there and she said are you really Charles Bukowski? and ...
The first of the undecoded messages read: "Popeye sits in thunder, Unthought of. From that shoebox of an apartment, From ...
I read last Saturday in the redwoods outside of Santa Cruz and I was about 3/4's finished when I heard ...
A man once read with mind surprised Of the way that people were "hypnotised"; By waving hands you produced, forsooth, ...
Oh! there once was a swagman camped in the Billabong, Under the shade of a Coolabah tree; And he sang ...
It was the man from Ironbark who struck the Sydney town, He wandered over street and park, he wandered up ...
It was a man from Ironbark who struck the Sydney town, He wandered over street and park, he wandered up ...
She was four, he was one, it was raining, we had colds, we had been in the apartment two weeks ...
[The late Mr. Jonathan Swift Somers, laureate of Spoon River, planned The Spooniad as an epic in twenty-four books, but ...
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