Oatmeal (Galway Kinnell Poem)
I eat oatmeal for breakfast. I make it on the hot plate and put skimmed milk on it. I eat ...
I eat oatmeal for breakfast. I make it on the hot plate and put skimmed milk on it. I eat ...
I ENCHANTER of Erin, whose magic has bound us, Thy wand for one moment we fondly would claim, Entranced while ...
When I die I don't care what happens to my body throw ashes in the air, scatter 'em in East ...
The lawns returning the ornaments, the features the debris exposed as are the shoots Released from the snow in spring ...
The blond hair shimmering in the morning sunlight the sun hidden, not visible behind the house across the street Only ...
I THAT in heill was and gladness Am trublit now with great sickness And feblit with infirmitie:-- Timor Mortis conturbat ...
Late, late yestreen I saw the new Moon, With the old Moon in her arms ; And I fear, I ...
There was a young patrolman who Had large but tender feet; They always hurt him badly when He walked upon ...
THERE was five Carlins in the South, They fell upon a scheme, To send a lad to London town, To ...
I The Roaring Tinker if you like, But Mannion is my name, And I beat up the common sort And ...
S. Patrick. You who are bent, and bald, and blind, With a heavy heart and a wandering mind, Have known ...
Fled foam underneath us, and round us, a wandering and milky smoke, High as the Saddle-girth, covering away from our ...
Now, man of croziers, shadows called our names And then away, away, like whirling flames; And now fled by, mist-covered, ...
I. Ribh at the Tomb of Baile and Aillinn Because you have found me in the pitch-dark night With open ...
There's a fortune to be made in just about everything in this country, somebody's father had to invent everything--baby food, ...
for Brenda Williams The dawn cracked with ice, with fire grumbling in the grate, With ire in the homes we ...
THE WALK TO THE PARADISE GARDENS 1 Bonfire Night beckoned us to the bridge By Saint Hilda's where we started ...
There's a fortune to be made in just about everything in this country, somebody's father had to invent everything--baby food, ...
BY many a dream of God and man my thoughts in shining flocks were led: But as I went through ...
It was the lunatic poet escaped from the local asylum, Loudly he twanged on his banjo and sang with his ...
I, born in Weimar Of a mother who was French And German father, a most learned professor, Orphaned at fourteen ...
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