humor
About the Tyger
Tyger! Tyger! shining brilliantly In the backwoods of the evening, What godlike hand or eye Could outline thy unfortunate evenness? In what far off deeps or skies Consumed the fire of thine eyes? On what wings might he venture yearn for? What the hand try to hold onto the fire? Also, what shoulder, and what craftsmanship, Could wind the ligaments of thy heart? Furthermore, when thy heart started to thump, What fear hand? furthermore, what fear feet? What the sledge? what the chain? In what heater was thy mind? What the iron block? what fear handle Dare its dangerous fear fasten? At the point when the stars tossed down their lances, Furthermore, watered paradise with their tears, Did he grin his work to see? Did he who made the Sheep make you? Tyger! Tyger! shining brilliantly In the backwoods of the evening, What godlike hand or eye, Dare outline thy unfortunate evenness?
By Edris Post3 years ago in Poets
The Sandpiper
Across the desolate ocean side we bounce, One little sandpiper and I, What's more, quick I accumulate, little by little, The dissipated driftwood, faded and dry. The wild waves arrive at their hands for it, The wild wind raves, the tide runs elevated, As out of control the ocean side we flutter, One little sandpiper and I. Over our heads the gloomy mists Scud, dark and quick, across the sky; Like quiet phantoms in dim covers Stand apart the white beacons high. Nearly to the extent that eye can reach I see the nearby reefed vessels fly, As quick we flutter along the ocean side, One little sandpiper and I. I watch him as he skims along, Articulating his sweet and sad cry; He begins not at my erratic melody, Nor glimmer of rippling curtain. He misunderstands no thought about any, He filters me with a brave eye; Stanch companions are we, all around attempted areas of strength for and, The little sandpiper and I. Friend, where shrivel thou be to-night, When the loosed storm breaks irately? My driftwood fire will consume so splendid! To what warm haven canst thou fly? I don't fear for you, however wroth The whirlwind races through the sky; For are we not God's youngsters both, Thou, little sandpiper, and I?
By Edris Post3 years ago in Poets
Nothing Gold Can Stay
Nature's most memorable green is gold, Her hardest tint to hold. Her initial leaf's a bloom; Yet, just so 60 minutes. Then, at that point, leaf dies down to leaf. So Eden sank to despondency, So first light goes down to day. Nothing gold can remain.
By Edris Post3 years ago in Poets
Ode to the Laundry Hamper
Bushel hamper, wickerwork, hamper basket Far from your days as a case or casket Southern born Who knew your purpose would out grow the fruits, veggies and grains who used you as just a basket 1897, on your way, Sears and Roebuck answered those who asked what can task-it A beautiful receptacle for the dirty, disheveled work clothes we disown Built-in, hidden, or a moveable facet 1966, Sears and Roebucks catelogue moved from a simple ad to a three page packet In all shapes and sizes, often padded with baking soda or litter to hide the smell of our worn To me you are no less important than anyone living in my hamlet A welcomed collector, a teacher who taught my dog to pick up socks for a biscuit the fastest The one on my side, in cahoots, keeping things organized in my cleaning, leaving me fresh and reborn Far from your days as a case or casket
By simplicity3 years ago in Poets
High School Poet Tree 2
Told you there was more. I gathered some of the darkest ones for this post. A little backstory into the mind that created these poems. I was probably between the ages of 15 and 17. I was going through a lot at home and an outcast at school. Because I was a young hopeless romantic, I let my peers lead my immature love life. Even when I knew it wasn't right I romanticized the hell out of my relationships in my youth.
By Abigail Adams -The Mad Cow Mob Boss3 years ago in Poets
