English | Spanish | French | German | Portuguese| Italian

mother poem

it was a tall young oysterman
she must go back, she said
the arches of the red bridge
give me
softly weeping
the meadow was creeping
before the solemn bronze saint
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
the air is like a butterfly
against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
i make my shroud, but no one knows
desolate and lone

 



Poetry news via Google, MSN, and Yahoo!

  • Will wonders never cease? Slick Willie in Elko - Twin Falls Times-News
  • Mesa State professor heals pain through poetry - Grand Junction Free Press
  • Yours rudely, Katherine Mansfield - Times Online
  • Vegas Valley Book Festival - KNPR
  • Obama, Palin give OK! its first double cover - MSNBC
  • No Theme, but Writers Aplenty - New York Times
  • Icons: Phillipe Starck, The Big Bang - Blackbookmag.com
  • Strong, independent woman devoted her life to her family - Fayetteville Observer
  • All the One's Men - American Thinker
  • Preview calendar: Dance through theme parks for Oct. 16-22 - North County Times
  • Charlotte Kohler dies; had edited literary magazine (Richmond Times-Dispatch)
  • TOME RAIDER LIVE: Shock of the New - Willamette Week
  • Scholars Defend American Literature (The Harvard Crimson)
  • The Belle of the bay - Seattle Times
  • Cool Don K. Brings the ’Cool Show’ to the ’Peg - Patriotic Vanguard
 

Get a Home Equity Loan today and save!

Florida Mortgage

Mortgage News Archives

Poetry | Contact Us | Educational Resources | Vote For This Poem | Visitor Favorites

Summer School Help Beginner Math Physics Primer Chemistry Primer Intro Psychology English Primer
Intro Grammar Beginner Writing American History American Civil War Intro Biology Composition Help


Check out El-Grande Web Directory today!


www.endlesspoetry.com ©Copyright 2004 - 2007 Michael VanDeMar All Rights Reserved