Poet As Fisherman (James A. Emanuel Poem)
I fish for words to say what I fish for, half-catch sometimes. I have caught little pan fish flashing sunlight ...
I fish for words to say what I fish for, half-catch sometimes. I have caught little pan fish flashing sunlight ...
Henry the Seventh of England Wasn't out of the Royal top drawer, The only connection of which he could boast, ...
Joe Ramshottom rented a bit of a farm From its owner, Squire Goslett his name; And the Gosletts came over ...
Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer were a very notorious couple of cats. As knockabout clown, quick-change comedians, tight-rope walkers and acrobats They ...
Indeed this is the sweet life! my hand Is under no proud man's command; There is no voice to break ...
Of all our antic sights and pageantry Which English idiots run in crowds to see, The Polish Medal bears the ...
In pious times, ere priest-craft did begin, Before polygamy was made a sin; When man, on many, multipli'd his kind, ...
Mother of all the high-strung poets and singers departed, Mother of all the grass that weaves over their graves the ...
Trusty as the stars Who quit their shining working Prompt as when I lit them In Genesis' new house, Durable ...
The Robin is a Gabriel In humble circumstances -- His Dress denotes him socially, Of Transport's Working Classes -- He ...
Of all the Sounds despatched abroad, There's not a Charge to me Like that old measure in the Boughs -- ...
The events of September 11th 2001 remain bitter sweet; as well as 2973 innocents confirmed dead (with their 19 terrorist ...
It goes on being Alexandria still. Just walk a bit along the straight road that ends at the Hippodrome and ...
"Form follows function follows form . . . , etc." --Dr. J. Anthony Wadlington Here I am writing my first ...
To spend uncounted years of pain Again, again, and yet again In working out in heart and brain The problem ...
And all at length are gathered in. --LOUISE BOGAN By the time I came around to feeling pain and woke ...
Sister of love-lorn Poets, Philomel! How many Bards in city garret pent, While at their window they with downward eye ...
From a letter from STC to Wordsworth after writing The Nightingale: In stale blank verse a subject stale I send ...
The Hunting The Bellman looked uffish, and wrinkled his brow. "If only you'd spoken before! It's excessively awkward to mention ...
Dedication Inscribed to a dear Child: in memory of golden summer hours and whispers of a summer sea. Girt with ...
Summer pleasures they are gone like to visions every one And the cloudy days of autumn and of winter cometh ...
In the usual iconography of the temple or the local Wok you would never see him doing such a thing, ...
As sure as prehistoric fish grew legs and sauntered off the beaches into forests working up some irregular verbs for ...
A place of dryad and hamadryad, there are eyes here by the million. Many divert to watch me. Threatened, they ...
Every month or so, Sundays, we walked the line, The limit and the boundary. Past the sweet gum Superb above ...
The only thing I miss about Los Angeles is the Hollywood Freeway at midnight, windows down and radio blaring bearing ...
'The mist is resting on the hill; The smoke is hanging in the air; The very clouds are standing still: ...
The industrialist is having his aeroplane serviced. The priest is wondering what he said in his sermon eight weeks ago ...
Walking through a field with my little brother Seth I pointed to a place where kids had made angels in ...
I know it's a bad title but I'm giving it to myself as a gift on a day nearly canceled ...
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