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poemsites | Recommended Online Poets and Poetry | poemsites.wordpress.com Reviews
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Recommended Online Poets and Poetry
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Poetry New Zealand (international journal of poetry and poetics) | poemsites
https://poemsites.wordpress.com/2011/11/13/poetry-new-zealand-international-journal-of-poetry-and-poetics
DVerse — Poet’s Pub. November 13, 2011 · 9:02 pm. Poetry New Zealand (international journal of poetry and poetics). Published twice a year and edited since 1993 by Alistair Paterson. Is new Zealand’s oldest and most distinguished poetry magazine. Excerpts from the current issues and archive of older issues going back to Issue 22 are available in this online version of the magazine. Filed under New Zealand Poetry. Tagged as 21st Century New Zealand Poetry. DVerse — Poet’s Pub. Leave a Reply Cancel reply.
dVerse — Poet’s Pub | poemsites
https://poemsites.wordpress.com/2011/10/29/dverse-poets-pub
Lithuanian Poetry (Translated into English). Poetry New Zealand (international journal of poetry and poetics) →. October 29, 2011 · 9:53 pm. DVerse — Poet’s Pub. Is promotes poetic diversity by providing a gathering place for poets of all backgrounds, styles and approaches to gather, share poetry and give and receive critiques. This is an amazing site and well worth taking time to explore older posts in all of the following categories:. Meeting the Bar: Critique and Craft. Filed under Poetry Sharing.
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1970s | zumpoems
https://zumpoems.com/category/1970s
Archive for the ‘1970s’ Category. As good as buried. As good as buried. Cause he has to have a chick. A boomer today and a blow-out tomorrow. He thinks he’s a cool aviator. But it’s not so cool where he always ends up:. Another piece of debris among floaters. And when he’s back on the ground. His gears are jammed. For the pleasure has turned to pain. 8212; Zumwalt (1974). Pleasure has turned to pain. The smog fills your. In a dersadrop humidifier. Breathing is a function. Burning air and burning phylum.
1990s | zumpoems
https://zumpoems.com/category/1990s
Archive for the ‘1990s’ Category. The habit of indirection. The habit of indirection. Crouched like an audio-animatronic lion. On the destination end of a high hurdle. We find civilius misdirectus. The final evolution of a long chain of. It feeds on marathon runners, steeple chasers. To fill the intervals. Between its favorite meal. Directed between lines that narrow into the distance. That has carefully measured every step beforehand. No decisions to make on direction, distance or depth. The sand is soft.
quotations | zumpoems
https://zumpoems.com/tag/quotations-2
Posts tagged ‘quotations’. If the world was full of only reporters, seems that there would be little to report on; but, if the world was full of only legislators, laws would be needed more than ever. Unfortunately, there would be no one around to enforce them. 8212; Zumwalt (From The Very Words of the Works of Zumwalt ). I have utter disdain for the arrogant. The only purpose of their existence is to remind me of my superiority over each and every one of them. Join 463 other followers. Tale of My Heart.
Reader’s Choice | zumpoems
https://zumpoems.com/category/readers-choice
Archive for the ‘Reader’s Choice’ Category. I feel the Fall. Summer’s dissolute heat and aureate fury. Gibbon scents the dusk. October has pierced the city. In its gusty fury. 8212; Zumwalt (15 October 1979). Time cooling Summer’s dissolute heat. Full Circle (A rumination in 3 strokes). A rumination in 3 strokes). Stroke the First Dante’s Laugh. Gotta be hip To run with the damned. Stroke the Second Odyssean Oddity. 8212; Zumwalt (D.C. ca. 1982). You and I face off. With battleships on secret squares.
1/29/2015 | zumpoems
https://zumpoems.com/2015/01/29/1292015
January 29, 2015. I have utter disdain for the arrogant. The only purpose of their existence is to remind me of my superiority over each and every one of them. 8212; Zumwalt (From “The Very Words of the Works of Zumwalt”). January 29, 2015 at 6:20 pm. I shall keep quiet then , Zummie , how are you doing? January 30, 2015 at 9:16 pm. I feel the same way! January 30, 2015 at 10:42 pm. Willowdot21, rumor is Mr. Z is doing fine. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Join 463 other followers.
Politicians | zumpoems
https://zumpoems.com/tag/politicians
Posts tagged ‘Politicians’. In dark draped light, they set the stage with positively pessimistic preposterous pronouncements:. Open-ended, close-minded —. An onslaught of oozing, slimy, backbiting, backstabbing, bamboozling, bath-bubble babble. Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers but where the heck is the peck that Peter Piper picked? Blame the other politicians! Blame the lazy, liberal-influenced, moral-obliterating, freeloading nameless discontents! Blame blame, but oh, so blamelessly…. I will...
2011 | zumpoems
https://zumpoems.com/category/2011
Archive for the ‘2011’ Category. Untitled (Sept. 7, 2011). Thick trees engulf the hidden spell;. Soft streams collide on risen ground;. So much, so fast, so far we go —. Then leave the remnants of the trampled dust. Flickering, fluttering inauspicious celestial butterfly. Recklessly spatters dribbling drips of darkened burgundy. Over overtaken over-conscientious Cal Poly Pomona Green. Diamanté dimensions collide with an autumn-autumn whisper. It seems that this high-speed, high-tech, high-result diet.
1990 | zumpoems
https://zumpoems.com/category/1990s/1990
Archive for the ‘1990’ Category. She sells sultry sunrises soulfully soaking in seaside’s sensuous sandy satin sheets. Our love mimics the tide. Skipping out on the evening board. You teach me how to body ride. Of life’s breath. As a secret’s expressed. And swells the waves of the surfer. And seeks the seas to direct. To their rock, rock, rock bottom depth. I don’t need you. I just need your love. I don’t need to have you love me. I just need you to have me love. The sand is soft. The wind is sweet.
Off Limits | zumpoems
https://zumpoems.com/off-limits
As administrator, I might as well leverage this site for my own posts and pages. Ear Training for Children, ages 3 to 6. Want to learn the piano? Must Listen To Music. Excellent online articles and posts. Also check out the ecospiritual site, Beluga Beliefs. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Email (Address never made public). You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out. Notify me of new comments via email. Excel...
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poemsinyourpocket.wordpress.com
poemsinyourpocket | Just another WordPress.com site
Poetry Collections & Anthologies. Just another WordPress.com site. April 30, 2012. If you are a dreamer, come in. If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,. A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer…. If you’re a pretender, come sit by my fire,. For we have some flax golden tales to spin. You Never Hear the Garden Grow. April 30, 2012. Row on row,. You never hear the garden. Roots shove and reach. Posted in Classroom Poems. Powerful Thoughts in Tiny Packages. Way Down in the Music. April 29, 2012. P o p sic...
These are the Poems I like
These are the Poems I like. Poetry which has moved me! View my complete profile. Im Nobody by Emily Dickenson. Let Me Stop by Jeremy Davis. Spinning a Penny by Piet Hein. A Leaf by Maj Bronislaw. Excerpt from To his Coy Mistress by Andrew Marve. A Question by Robert Frost. The Freedom of the Moon by Robert Frost. Fire and Ice by Robert Frost. The Ocean Doesnt Want Me Today by Tom Waits. Random Thoughts and Ideas. PC Tools and Utilities. Sunday, January 08, 2006. I'm Nobody by Emily Dickenson. I should ju...
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poemsites | Recommended Online Poets and Poetry
November 13, 2011 · 9:02 pm. Poetry New Zealand (international journal of poetry and poetics). Published twice a year and edited since 1993 by Alistair Paterson. Is new Zealand’s oldest and most distinguished poetry magazine. Excerpts from the current issues and archive of older issues going back to Issue 22 are available in this online version of the magazine. Filed under New Zealand Poetry. Tagged as 21st Century New Zealand Poetry. October 29, 2011 · 9:53 pm. DVerse — Poet’s Pub. This is one of the mo...
Poems, I Write 'Em | by Edren T. Sumagaysay
Skip to search - Accesskey = s. Poems, I Write 'Em. In No Parituclar Order. Poetry to Prose and Back to Poetry. Furlough Ain’t Shit. Alone, The Play. Good Morning, Good Morning! Sunday In The Park. Let’s Get Away. Science, Structure, and Poetry. Books and Beers: The Writers Workshop. The Los Angeles Clippers. The Title of This Non-Poem is My Buggy Eyes. Yes, One Step At A Time. Waiting, Waiting, Waiting. Fina – Fucking – Lly. For The Longest Time. The First of a Million Kisses. Butterfly, Oh Butterfly.
Poems I Wrote
Simple, Unedited and Raw Poetry. Look in my Eyes. Look in my eyes. Care to feel the fire. I will burn you. Look me in my eyes. Your hunger is evident to me. Don’t think I don’t know. But I warn you. I may burn your lips. If you dare to kiss. My lips may look cool. But they are hot indeed. Last line added 12-05-10). Posted on 12.6.10 in Uncategorized. Share your thoughts →. And in this time. I feel your presence. Will you feel it. If I imagine your hand. Will a smile illuminate your lips. I hear your laugh.
poemsiwrotewheniwas12.blogspot.com
Poems I Wrote When I Was 12
Poems I Wrote When I Was 12. The strange, the funny, and the embarassing from my 7th grade poem book. Monday, November 22, 2010. Warning: Extreme levels of 7th-grader sappiness. Almost embarassed to post this one. It's another heartfelt attempt at sincere poetry. That I must have written at the very end of 7th grade. And it's baaaaaad. The Last Day of School. 65279;Today is the day we say our goodbyes. Today is the day that some of us cry. The school year is over, it's come to an end. Labels: heartfelt a...
poemsiwrotewithyouinmind.blogspot.com
Poems I wrote with you in mind
Poems I wrote with you in mind. This will look great on your imaginary coffee table. To teach mechanical and nuclear engineering. Even a writer can surmise. A bicycle spray painted white. And left leaning against a post. In rain and snow and even sleet. And grow lesions of rust. And slough its way. Into the weeds unnoticed. My father knew what work was. Work was punching in early,. Regardless of your hangover’s howling. Driving into the city at midnight,. Wrestling sheaves of paper for ten hours. I miss ...
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