#AmericanWriters
Who is the happy husband? Why, in… 'Tis he who’s useless in the time… Who, asked to unclasp a bracelet o… Contrives to be utterly futile, fu… Or when a zipper nips his loved on…
Geniuses of countless nations Have told their love for generatio… Till all their memorable phrases Are common as goldenrod or daisies… Their girls have glimmered like th…
Now another day is breaking, Sleep was sweet and so is waking. Dear Lord, I promised you last ni… Never again to sulk or fight. Such vows are easier to keep
When people aren’t asking question… They’re making suggestions And when they’re not doing one of… They’re either looking over your s… And then as if that weren’t enough…
One cantaloupe is ripe and lush, Another’s green, another’s mush. I’d buy a lot more cantaloupe If I possessed a fluoroscope.
A mighty creature is the germ, Though smaller than a pachyderm. His customary dwelling place Is deep within the human race. His childish pride he often please…
Tell me, O Octopus, I begs Is those things arms, or is they l… I marvel at thee, Octopus; If I were thou, I’d call me Us.
The ant has made himself illustrio… Through constant industry industri… So what? Would you be calm and placid, If you were full of formic acid?
It is common knowledge to every sc… That all sin is divided into two p… One kind of sin is called a sin of… And it is what you are doing when… And the other kind of sin is just…
Unwillingly Miranda wakes, Feels the sun with terror, One unwilling step she takes, Shuddering to the mirror. Miranda in Miranda’s sight
They tell me that euphoria is the… Today I have the agility of a Gre… Yes, today I may even go forth wi… Today I am a swashbuckler, would… This is my euphorian day,
More than a catbird hates a cat, Or a criminal hates a clue, Or the Axis hates the United Sta… That’s how much I love you. I love you more than a duck can sw…
Song of the Open Road I think that I shall never see A billboard as lovely as a tree. Perhaps unless the billboards fall… I’ll never see a tree at all.
The cow is of bovine ilk; One end is moo, the other is milk.
When I remember bygone days I think how evening follows morn; So many I loved were not yet dead… So many I love were not yet born.
