Poet and Poemis a social media online website forpoets and poems, a marvelous platform which invites unknown talent from anywhere in the little world.The platform is great for Poets, Musicians and Singers to express talent and showcase their precious works of art. You can findlove poems,famou...
the call for submissions was based on trees and everything they have to offer. Having grown up, I have several years under my belt of seeing trees, and naturally I had some thoughts. So I wrote them down and had two more poems selected for this latest anthology. Proceeds will go to be...
"Oh, dear," said Totsey, "if I eat it too hot it burns me, and if I eat it too cold it's nasty. What shall I do?" "Take it as I do mine," said the good little sister. "It is the right way." "There are two wrong ways and only one right way; it isn't fair," sig...
I’ll do anything I’d die for you” She looked up at him with her eyes so green “If you were King would you make me Queen?” He cried “My dear did I think aloud For that’s one wish I already vowed?” “For my second wish I would have your home And if I married you ev...
One of her pupils had given her a pass for Mignon. Of course it was very fine, she said, but it made her think of poor Georgina Burns. Mr Browne could go back farther still, to the old Italian companies that used to come to Dublin—Tietjens, Ilma de Murzka, Campanini, the great ...
This week I chose to write a Shadorma (syllabic poem with a 3-5-3-3-7-5 sequence) about the transcendent powers of reading, inspired by one of Emily Dickinson’s poems. I opened a book and entered. The words spread out their wings, and took me on a journey far from where I’ve...
By Robert Burns depicting Tam O’Shanter drunk. Leaving the pub Tam rides home on his horse Meg. A storm is brewing. He sees the local haunted church lit up, witches and warlocks dancing. The devil playing the bagpipes. Tam is still drunk, still upon his horse, ...
He rode through the woods on a big… He had fists as hard as choppin’ b… Five hundred pounds and nine feet… Talk about workin’, when he swung… You could hear it ring for a mile… The Unicorn A long time ago, when the earth wa… And there was more kinds of animal… And ...
poems Books about Coffee help LoginRobert Burns Epitaph on John RankineAE day, as Death, that gruesome carl, Was driving to the tither warl’ A mixtie-maxtie motley squad, And mony a guilt-bespotted lad— Black gowns of each denomination, And thieves of every rank and station, From him...