‘I Left My Gloves at the Analyst’s’ by Nancy Weber
I left my gloves at the analyst's He called to say he'd found them Black, he said, lined with cotton ...
I left my gloves at the analyst's He called to say he'd found them Black, he said, lined with cotton ...
“Hello, again!” the sun does say when rising on a morn in May. “Thanks for the break,” replies the moon. ...
That distant bellow is merely a case Of west wind rushing through the tamarack In a race with itself to ...
Imagine that you were lost in a wilderness and had to find your way out. Fortunately, you have with you ...
Some People Say Some people say that giraffes were petite and they grew their necks out to properly eat, or ...
Seasong I heard the wreathéd coral horn That Triton blew, and less forlorn Did suddenly I feel: I heard the ...
On the painting "Le berges d'Arcadie" by Nicolas Poussin The rugged mountains in the distance stand beyond, above the three, ...
At the Moment of Our Death At the moment of our death As we draw our final breath Should we ...
Held on May 26, 2014, at Da Tang, in New York, participants read Tang Dynasty poetry, translated poetry previously ...
Blue and Yellow Barn-Swallows She made a note to note when they arrived. It’s obvious whenev’r they fin’lly do. Over ...
That would be so much better for everybody, themselves included.
Please see comments from cosmic cyberland
"Forever in our memory now"
Adam, this deeply affectionate elegy certainly shows you are one of the many who now say, "We are Charlie." He…
Dear Mary Jane, Thanks for your kind comment. The syllabic overlap between my poem and tanka is just a coincidence;…
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