#AmericanWriters #FreeVerse
It was an icy day. We buried the cat, then took her box and set fire to it in the back yard.
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, the waste of broad, muddy fields
Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees
This is a schoolyard crowded with children of all ages near a village on a small stream
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, th… waste of broad, muddy fields
This horrible but superb painting the parable of the blind without a red in the composition shows a group of beggars leading
Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows
O—EH—lee! La—la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
It is a willow when summer is over… a willow by the river from which no leaf has fallen nor bitten by the sun turned orange or crimson.
Fools have big wombs. For the rest?'here is pennyroyal if one knows to use it. But time is only another liar, so go along the wall a little further: if blackberries prove bitter...
School is over. It is too hot to walk at ease. At ease in light frocks they walk the stre… to while the time away. They have grown tall. They hold
The birches are mad with green poi… the wood’s edge is burning with th… burning, seething—No, no, no. The birches are opening their leav… by one. Their delicate leaves unfo…
It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for
They tell me on the morrow I must… This winter eyrie for a southern f… And truth to tell I tremble with… At thought of such unheralded repr… E’er have I known December in a w…