Dear Joy, what have I done thee (Emily Pfeiffer Poems)
Dear Joy, what have I done thee, That thou shouldest ...
Dear Joy, what have I done thee, That thou shouldest ...
i got acquainted with a parrot named pete recently who is an interesting bird pete says he used to belong ...
_Stanzas from "Onegin"_Our Northern Winter's fickle Summer,Than Southern Winter scarce more bland--Is undeniably withdrawingOn fleeting footsteps from the land.Soon will ...
I don't remember exactly when Budberg died, it was either two years ago or three. The same ...
GUIDE, PHILOSOPHER, BUT FRIEND _If that these vagrant verses make One heart more glad; if they but ...
Humble home. But rum, and charcoalGrog of sketches on the wall,And the cell becomes a mansion,And the garret is a ...
I eat oatmeal for breakfast. I make it on the hot plate and put skimmed milk on it. I eat ...
The mahogany table-top you smashed Had been the broad plank top Of my mother's heirloom sideboard- Mapped with the scars ...
(roundel: variation of the rondeau consisting of three stanzas of three lines each, linked together with but two rhymes and ...
For Carl Solomon I I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves ...
Some men of the community knowing the power of Christ acting on their faith bringing the man to him Carrying ...
There is a chimp named Ai who can count to five. There's a poet named Ai whose selected poems Vice ...
"Form follows function follows form . . . , etc." --Dr. J. Anthony Wadlington Here I am writing my first ...
...Preamble A rough draft for an ars poetica . . . . . . . Let's get our dreams unstuck ...
Sir, since the last Elizabethan died, Or, rather, that more Paradisal muse, Blind with much light, passed to the light ...
THE SUN had clos'd the winter day, The curless quat their roarin play, And hunger'd maukin taen her way, To ...
ORTHODOX! orthodox, who believe in John Knox, Let me sound an alarm to your conscience: A heretic blast has been ...
Once more the gate behind me falls; Once more before my face I see the moulder'd Abbey-walls, That stand within ...
I loved to toy with tuneful rhyme, My fancies into verse to weave; For as I walked my words would ...
I wish that I could understand The moving marvel of my Hand; I watch my fingers turn and twist, The ...
My poem may be yours indeed In melody and tone, If in its rhythm you can read A music of ...
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