Café Comedy (Robert William Service Poems)
She I'm waiting for the man I hope to wed. I've never seen him - that's the funny part. I ...
She I'm waiting for the man I hope to wed. I've never seen him - that's the funny part. I ...
A pencil, sir; a penny -- won't you buy? I'm cold and wet and tired, a sorry plight; Don't turn ...
WHAT does the hangman think about When he goes home at night from work? When he sits down with his ...
STRONG rocks hold up the riksdag bridge . always strong river waters shoving their shoulders against them . In the ...
YOUR eyes and the valley are memories. Your eyes fire and the valley a bowl. It was here a moonrise ...
I glanced at her and took my glasses off--they were still singing. They buzzed like a locust on the coffee ...
THE dago shovelman sits by the railroad track Eating a noon meal of bread and bologna. A train whirls by, ...
THE HAGGARD woman with a hacking cough and a deathless love whispers of white flowers . in your poem you ...
IN a Yiddish eating place on Rivington Street . faces . coffee spots . children kicking at the night stars ...
"YOU slut," he flung at her. It was more than a hundred times He had thrown it into her face ...
I WAS born on the prairie and the milk of its wheat, the red of its clover, the eyes of ...
Coffee and cigarettes in a clean cafe, forsythia lit like a damp match against a thundery sky drunk on its ...
Part 1 WHAT dire Offence from am'rous Causes springs, What mighty Contests rise from trivial Things, I sing -- This ...
Close by those meads, for ever crown'd with flow'rs, Where Thames with pride surveys his rising tow'rs, There stands a ...
It was early May, I think a moment of lilac or dogwood when so many promises are made it hardly ...
Viciousness in the kitchen! The potatoes hiss. It is all Hollywood, windowless, The fluorescent light wincing on and off like ...
'Twas in the year of 1874, and on New Year's Day, The British Army landed at Elmina without dismay, And ...
I I have loved England, dearly and deeply, Since that first morning, shining and pure, The white cliffs of Dover ...
Did my widow flit about From Mackinac to Los Angeles, Resting and bathing and sitting an hour Or more at ...
I sleep a lot and read St. Thomas Aquinas Or The Death of God (that's a Protestant book). To the ...
With our hearts like drifting suns, had we but walked, As often before, the April fields till star-light Silkened over ...
Eighty-one degrees a record high for the day which is not my birthday but will do until the eleventh of ...
I said coffee I didn't say, "would you like to cup my warm soft breasts in your un-calloused, long, tapered, ...
She wakens early remembering her father rising in the dark lighting the stove with a match scraped on the floor. ...
The day comes slowly in the railyard behind the ice factory. It broods on one cinder after another until each ...
Pond snipe, bleached pine, rue weed, wart -- I walk by sedge and brown river rot to where the old ...
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