#AmericanWriters #Couplet #FreeVerse
In this world of as fine a pair of breasts as ever I saw the fountain in Madison Square
The coroner’s merry little childre… Have such twinkling brown eyes. Their father is not of gay men And their mother jocular in no wis… Yet the coroner’s merry little chi…
Upon the table in their bowl in violent disarray of yellow sprays, green spikes of leaves, red pointed petals and curled heads of blue
This plot of ground facing the waters of this inlet is dedicated to the living presenc… Emily Dickinson Wellcome who was born in England; married;
From the Nativity which I have already celebrated the Babe in its Mother’s arms the Wise Men in their stolen splendor
SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
To make two bold statements: There’s nothing sentimental about a machine, and: A poem is a small (or large) machine made out of words. When I say there’s nothing sentimental about a poe...
"Sweet land" at last! out of sea— the Venusremembering wavelets rippling with laughter—
Again I reply to the triple winds running chromatic fifths of derisi… outside my window: Play louder. You will not succeed. I am
Well, Lizzie Anderson! seventeen… the baby hard to find a father for… What will the good Father in Heav… to the local judge if he do not so… A little two-pointed smile and—pou…
She sits with tears on her cheek her cheek on her hand
Constantly near you, I never in m… sixty-four years knew you so well… or half so well. We talked. you we… so lucid, so disengaged from all e… of place and time. We talked of ou…
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
Pour the wine bridegroom where before you the bride is enthroned her hair loose at her temples a head of ripe wheat is on
The murderer’s little daughter who is barely ten years old jerks her shoulders right and left so as to catch a glimpse of me