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2. Bones
She remembers the way her mother loved marigolds, the way her father vined his roses on the door but can’t make bones of their years, can’t plant them deep in a plot to rest. They come back up. ...

A Night Song The young May moon is beaming; love, The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, How sweet to rove through Morna's grove, When the drowsy world is dreaming, love! Then awake! The heav'ns look bright, my dear, 'Tis ne'er too late for delight, and...

Boatswain The following poem " Epitaph to a Dog, " is Lord Byron's tribute to his dog, "Boatswain," etched on a monument in the garden of Newstead Abbey. Near this spot Are deposited the Remains of one Who possessed Beauty...

So come, good men who toil and tire, Who smoke and sip the kindly cup, Ring round about the tavern fire Ere yet you drink your liquor up; And hear my simple songs of earth, Of youth and truth and living things; Of poeverty and...

"You ought to have seen what I saw on my way To the village, through Mortenson's pasture to-day: Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb, Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum In the cavernous pail of the first one to...

Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,— call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long....

Because I could not stop for Death — He kindly stopped for me — The Carriage held but just Ourselves — And Immortality. We slowly drove —He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too,...

Bright star! would I were steadfast as thou art - Not in lone splendor hung aloft the night, And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like Nature's patient, sleepless eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution...

Day is marigold painted enamel, art wrapped in bird feather voodoo, rain and sun the same white rib. Canon spiders knocking childtrick cadavers over stone, your crylove mouth in my hands as a hostage. Where are your frog and fern...

Hair-bleaching peroxide destroyed Jean Harlow’s scalp and forced her to wear wigs.Isadora Duncan’s opulent scarf choked her to death during a car ride. David Herrle All Rights Reserved

He's gathering up her belongings: photographs, books, remembrances, to store away in the attic. The latter comes down cracking and creaking like old bones muttering about things left undone, seeming less than sturdy. An old house has...

13. Butterfly
Her father used to call her "Leptir" Which is Serbian for Butterfly Because she used to chase after the Monarchs Flapping her chubby little girl arms In an effort to fly just like them. Now her thin hands flutter like ...

I Looking forward to the spring One puts up with anything. On this February day, Though the winds leap down the street, Wintry scourgings seem but play, And these later shafts of sleet — Sharper pointed than the first...

I am my Brother's keeper, not his jailor nor his guard, But the keeper of his confidence, the guardian of his trust; The one that he can turn to when the face of Fate is hard, As I would hope to turn to him when I am in the dust. ...

I browse book covers stacked on my bedside table, flip through travel guides, a collection of poems. Absorbed in a novel I become black on white, twenty-six letters, the space between lines. I feel your fingers run...

17. Blessed
I've been so blessed it's hard for me To understand just why. Why me? Tho my path did sometimes stray, The blessings still did come my way. Mentors came when needed most To show the way when I was lost. And, whenever...

I've seen the water break upon a ragged stone as it descends — a raging torrent rushing down steep crags. I've seen the stone stand where it did — it has ever been the same! But, down the mountains, past...

Love is sharper than stones or sticks; Lone as the sea, and deeper blue; Loud in the night as a clock that ticks; Longer-lived than the Wandering Jew. Show me a love was done and through, Tell me a kiss escaped its debt! Son, to your...

Oh, big was the bosom of brave Alum Bey, And also the region that under it lay, In safety and peril remarkably cool, And he dwelt on the banks of the river Stamboul. Each morning he went to his garden, to cull A bunch of zenana or...

Old eyes Orange hair Orange poncho High heels I wonder at her confident brightness pushing her cart past naive naked girls who strategically compete with overflowing carts of frozen fast pizzas and fries I reach for the...

On another cold New England morning, we sit at the breakfast table, silent. Outside the kitchen window, naked trees gather snow on their black wetted limbs. They look like photograph negatives edges raised and sharpened. A world...

One day you will look back and laugh at yourself. You’ll say, “ I can’t believe I was so asleep! How did I ever forget the truth? How ridiculous to believe that sadness and sickness Are anything other...

Out in the dark and lonesome in the woods and on the hills To be here anytime is how I get my thrills. To feel a misty mornin' damp upon my face - To know that daylight's comin', that night will leave no trace. To stumble...

Roses ruddy and roses white, What are the joys that my heart discloses? Sitting alone in the fading light Memories come to me here tonight With the wonderful scent of the big red roses. Memories come as the daylight fades ...

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