In Answer to a Request (Amy Lowell Poem)
You ask me for a sonnet. Ah, my Dear, Can clocks tick back to yesterday at noon? Can cracked and ...
You ask me for a sonnet. Ah, my Dear, Can clocks tick back to yesterday at noon? Can cracked and ...
August 14th, 1914 Into the brazen, burnished sky, the cry hurls itself. The zigzagging cry of hoarse throats, it floats ...
When you, my Dear, are away, away, How wearily goes the creeping day. A year drags after morning, and night ...
Jane looks down at her organdy skirt As if it somehow were the thing disgraced, For being there, on the ...
The piper coming from far away is you With a whitewash brush for a sporran Wobbling round you, a kitchen ...
Stirs its ashes and embers, its burnt sticks An eye powdered over, half melted and solid again Ponders Ideas that ...
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf-Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair ...
[I feel considerable hesitation in venturing to offer this version of a poem which Carlyle describes to be 'a beautiful ...
WHAT pulls at my heart so? What tells me to roam? What drags me and lures me From chamber and ...
I In the depths of the Greyhound Terminal sitting dumbly on a baggage truck looking at the sky waiting for ...
The consequences on changes choices we make every day our wills guiding, often without thought of the ripples, the pulls ...
Drinking from the deep well the living water of your story words of scripture, the story of God how he ...
On the banks of the Mersey, o'er on Cheshire side, Lies Runcorn that's best known to fame By Transporter Bridge ...
APENECK SWEENEY spreads his knees Letting his arms hang down to laugh, The zebra stripes along his jaw Swelling to ...
Far from me and like the stars, the sea and all the trappings of poetic myth, Far from me but ...
1/ Genius is not a generous thing In return it charges more interest than any amount of royalties can cover ...
PART I 'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock And the owls have awakened the crowing cock; Tu-whit!- ...
I turn around on the gravel and go back to the house for a book, something to read at the ...
(For Donald Hall) Have you heard about the boy who walked by The black water? I won't say much more. ...
I watch the man bend over his patch, a fat gunny sack at his feet. He combs the earth with ...
If the idea of immortality is excluded, there remains dust, grass, water that forms puddles, the branch from which the ...
Now as an angler melancholy standing Upon a green bank yielding room for landing, A wriggling yellow worm thrust on ...
I've come by, she says, to tell you that this is it. I'm not kidding, it's over. this is it. ...
Making love in the sun, in the morning sun in a hotel room above the alley where poor men poke ...
The happiest moment in a woman's life Is when she hears the turn of her lover's key In the lock, ...
He woke up in New York City on Valentine's Day, Speeding. The body in the booth next to his was ...
gnawing through a shinbone, a high howl inside of which a bloody, slashed-by-growls note is heard, unlike that sound, and ...
These solitary hills have always been dear to me. Seated here, this sweet hedge, which blocks the distant horizon opening ...
An upright abutment in the mouth of the Willis Avenue bridge a beige Honda leaps the divider like a steel ...
She is large and matronly And rather dirty, A little sardonic-looking, as if domesticity had driven her to it. Though ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories