My Curate’s Motor Bike (John O Brien Poems)
Before the lad invested we had comfort here indeed;Our lives were as an open book, and he who ran might ...
Before the lad invested we had comfort here indeed;Our lives were as an open book, and he who ran might ...
Standing on tiptoe, head back, eyes and armUpraised, Kate groped to reach the higher shelf.Her sleeve slid up like darkness ...
There was snow that afternoon covering the roadwhich twisted toward the secretof water, the mysterious surgeof sludge & loam, the ...
Children under, say, ten, shouldn't knowthat the universe is ever-expanding,inexorably pushing into the vacuum, galaxiesswallowed by galaxies, wholesolar systems collapsing, ...
you ask what intrigues me in the magic of numbers in a numberI want to express the infinity of my ...
Ah Gawd! It makes me sick to think Of what I 'eard an' seen;Poor 'Arry like a wet rag flung ...
Bicycle, my bicycle, that liest where I lie, I've merely strained a tendon, but your time has come to die. ...
(To Annabelle.)Pipe to the tip I'm handing, Kid; Get jerry to the salve I throw;Just paste it in your merrywid ...
Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool, I walks in my old brown gaiters along o' my ...
sam swill took a pill went blue ate stew had pains no brains sucked a date too late swallowed stone ...
Instant monuments makeshift memorials of senseless tragedies all across America flowers, stuffed animals, candles, messages of instant grief sudden shock ...
Children under, say, ten, shouldn't know that the universe is ever-expanding, inexorably pushing into the vacuum, galaxies swallowed by galaxies, ...
in the hospitals and jails it's the worst in madhouses it's the worst in penthouses it's the worst in skid ...
The first morning of Three Mile Island: those first disquieting, uncertain, mystifying hours. All morning a crew of workmen have ...
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