creative writer
To the Woman at the Retirement Center You tell me when you were eight, newly arrived from Czechoslovakia, your teacher made you memorize
By kd Hoccane3 years ago in Poets
Aubade I work all day, and get half-drunk at night. Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare. In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
The Starry Sky who raised these rocks of human mist pyramidical survivors in the cyclorama of space In the austere theatre of the Infinite
Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms Believe me, if all those endearing young charms, Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,
In an Iridescent Time My mother, when young, scrubbed laundry in a tub, She and her sisters on an old brick walk Under the apple trees, sweet rub-a-dub.
Bright Star Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art– Not in lone splendor hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart
Evening Slowly the evening puts on the garments Held for it by a rim of ancient trees; You watch: and the lands divide from you,
tain's summit, even Clancy took a pull - It well might make the boldest hold their breath; The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full
Yellow Lab Outside the Coffee Shop The yellow lab outside the coffee shop today cannot sit still; but instead radiates the ever-expectant energy
Composed Upon Westminster Br Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
Joan of Arc Now the flames, they followed Joan of Arc as she came riding through the dark; no moon to keep her armour bright,
Missing heart. mug of blood for my heart, to survive after her depart. although veins and arteries are apart,
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