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The Poetic Orchard | A garden of expression, grown among the stones of the Brooklyn streetsA garden of expression, grown among the stones of the Brooklyn streets
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A garden of expression, grown among the stones of the Brooklyn streets
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The Poetic Orchard | A garden of expression, grown among the stones of the Brooklyn streets | thepoeticorchard.wordpress.com Reviews
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A garden of expression, grown among the stones of the Brooklyn streets
thepoeticorchard.wordpress.com
Oh, Death? | The Poetic Orchard
https://thepoeticorchard.wordpress.com/2012/11/30/oh-death
A garden of expression, grown among the stones of the Brooklyn streets. The Poet dies. →. November 30, 2012. E eu vou morrer, esta noite. Meu sangue vai espirrar esta rua. Com sua música escarlate. Eu não vou implorar, nem buscar a minha. Para a sorte que eu procurava. Foi essa morte,. Eu vim a este mundo. Atingido por estrelas e me pergunto. Procurei um sonho de amor. Mas há ma amor aqui,. E a minha pátria. A morte, em breve. E transitória para mim. Eu procuro não há vida para além. E um amante sem amor.
Why has it been so long? | The Poetic Orchard
https://thepoeticorchard.wordpress.com/2012/08/03/why-has-it-been-so-long
A garden of expression, grown among the stones of the Brooklyn streets. Mussolini bravely prepares to meet his death. Why has it been so long? August 3, 2012. Why has it been so long. Since I ate at your table? How did the wind turn so cold. How did the notes of the gut strung guitar. Drfit so far from the fingers. How have so many nights passed between us. Since I slept in your bed? I saw you, a shadow,. Pass on the concrete beneath me. I ran down the rattling. Called out your name,. Make a baby with me!
Bandits | The Poetic Orchard
https://thepoeticorchard.wordpress.com/2012/08/17/bandits
A garden of expression, grown among the stones of the Brooklyn streets. Why has it been so long? Mental Confusion →. August 17, 2012. In the thick wine of night. Like the canyons of alto douro. Is passed in the moonlight. In the thick wine of night. Is it posion or gold. Why has it been so long? Mental Confusion →. 13 thoughts on “ Bandits. August 17, 2012 at 10:08 pm. Oh – such mystery and underhanded doings! August 18, 2012 at 1:14 am. August 18, 2012 at 2:26 am. Too beautiful and so dark! Address neve...
The Poetic Orchard | A garden of expression, grown among the stones of the Brooklyn streets | Page 2
https://thepoeticorchard.wordpress.com/page/2
A garden of expression, grown among the stones of the Brooklyn streets. Newer posts →. Mussolini bravely prepares to meet his death. March 23, 2012. Mussolini tore open his coat,. His face a defiant mask. He sneered at the boy before him. 8220;shoot, you bastard partizan –. Shoot me in the chest for my heart. Will read, forever,. Clara Petacchi.”. I lift the cloth. February 11, 2012. It was the night you left your home. You lay on your bed as the rain. Your face showed no emotion. I lifted the cloth.
Worlds Away (Carnarsie Beach) | The Poetic Orchard
https://thepoeticorchard.wordpress.com/2013/09/14/worlds-away-carnarsie-beach
A garden of expression, grown among the stones of the Brooklyn streets. If these Brooklyn streets would flow as wine. Worlds Away (Carnarsie Beach). September 14, 2013. A grey day,. A fall from the sky day. Watched by the eyes of those. Who would burn us while sleeping,. Our blue sky of freedom. 88th street is broad. And ordianry, in daylight. But on midsummer’s evenings. And touches the stars. A hooded young man crouches. And watches me passing. I long for my city. And my dreams of this city. You are co...
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pyrotechniedomestiques.wordpress.com
Pyrotechnie domestiques | Boom! Flash! Bang! Pretty! | Page 2
https://pyrotechniedomestiques.wordpress.com/page/2
Oh oh yes. touch me there. And you, there. You post a new poem every hour and seven minutes. Again, again, again, again. You must have SO much soul. Take your time. There’s no else I’m planning on inviting. The question hangs over me. He pleads with his eyes. The lights are dim, the crowd is drifting. Not tonight, I don’t think. I sit on the ledge legs downward through the sky, waiting to fall. Will you push me or catch me? Nothing in this world is eternally certain. No path leads truly to the end. A gar...
pyrotechniedomestiques.wordpress.com
Prissy | Pyrotechnie domestiques
https://pyrotechniedomestiques.wordpress.com/2013/09/20/prissy
This entry was posted on September 20, 2013, in Uncategorized. I need to sleep. So let yourself out. Just clean up your mess. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Address never made public). You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Google account. ( Log Out.
highway 99 | tarnation and eudemonia
https://beijomacio.wordpress.com/2013/04/26/highway-99
Straightforward poems for straightforward people. This here is the story of two brothers,. Jake and Randolf Crewes,. Who thought of themselves as. The last of the independents. They found themselves one day. Holed up in Calaveras County. On the last, gleaming edge. Of the American frontier. Is a low-down hole, good. For nothing but going out. And getting lost in. Kind of place a man can find some. Park a double wide. And cook up some nasty shit. Sudafed, iodine, Sodium Hydroxide. They get it out of Drano.
darling s, if you are reading this it is because i am already dead | tarnation and eudemonia
https://beijomacio.wordpress.com/2014/01/17/darling-s-if-you-are-reading-this-it-is-because-i-am-already-dead
Straightforward poems for straightforward people. Darling s, if you are reading this it is because i am already dead. Darling s, if you are reading this,. It is because i am already dead. Really dead. not just dead. Like the little thatch of fire. Between your thighs, no –. Dead, as in i was more alive. That that little smoky nook. Darling s, still lovely s. I am deader than a bridge. Across a sullen southern river. That neither you nor i would cross. In the deadness of the night. I rolled and flowed.
cali super-fragile mystic | tarnation and eudemonia
https://beijomacio.wordpress.com/2013/07/06/cali-super-fragile-mystic
Straightforward poems for straightforward people. Tule fog come up,. Thick and dark for days. It was, like,. All bets to the second act. And ev’rythin’ gone smells. Like earthquakes these days. And sings like a. Or grumbles like a. Low-down coupe de ville. The katy in some. Mr pibb, moxie. Oh, her gorgeous, glorious. Come on, pilgrim! You cotton merchant,. With hands as precise. As blind men’s –. Death’s got a warrant. Oh, but desire is. Can you be for me that woman? My hadacol show healer? With a 2 by 4.
yonder comes your man | tarnation and eudemonia
https://beijomacio.wordpress.com/2013/11/07/yonder-comes-your-man
Straightforward poems for straightforward people. Yonder comes your man. Yonder comes your man,. He insists you call him captain. Scattering your legs like ninepins. Yonder comes your lover,. Bald head’s sunlit gleam. If you had your druthers. Would you change him up midstream? Time to fix your mojo hand. Yonder comes your man. I know you’re thinking just today. Of a quiet indiscretion. In that land of milk and honey,. Where georgia bill got seven. You can wander up the backwoods from. Who’s the second s...
dan, you’re a boat | tarnation and eudemonia
https://beijomacio.wordpress.com/2013/08/10/dan-youre-a-boat
Straightforward poems for straightforward people. Dan, you’re a boat. I’m your favourite late night. News and chat show prostitute. And you, the kamikaze pilot. Who packed a parachute. And through that last long, hot and dry. We were faithless electors,. Both busy seeking our poison of choice’s. Or some half-remembered poem. We’d so love to misquote. Together we were three good years of IOUs and. After that, you ask what now are you to me? Dan, you’re a boat. In truth, I am,was, always will be. If y'all ...
weaponizedblonde.wordpress.com
I said NO! | The Weaponized Blonde
https://weaponizedblonde.wordpress.com/2012/12/14/i-said-no
Simple point and click interface. December 14, 2012. You cannot touch me. I will nto buy. What ever you are selling. Get out of my face. And leave me be. I will send you. You want me to send you. My body is mine. To do as I please. I will not allow you. My dignity, like that. In the end, that. Is all that I have. I will not be your. I will not be your whore. I will not call now. Not in the next 15 minutes. What kind of man are you? 15 thoughts on “ I said NO! December 15, 2012 at 7:45 pm. You are comment...
delightfulmentalproblem.wordpress.com
Cassie and the political process | My Delightful Mental Problems
https://delightfulmentalproblem.wordpress.com/2012/10/13/cassie-and-the-political-process
My Delightful Mental Problems. October 13, 2012} Cassie and the political process. Sigh Another year where the lesser of two evils is the most reliable reason to inform your choice. Groan We don’t even have the feel good factor of absolving ourselves of the perception of racism. Piss If Obama would just come out of the closet, he could get that FGF back “hey lets show we’re not homophobic”. Fuck The choice is between a proven failure with no actual plan and delusional, crazy nitwit with an idelogy. What ...
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THE POETIC MIND
THE POETIC MIND.co.uk. Hello my name is Duane Abbott a poet and the author of. THE POETIC MIND' book. I would personally like to welcome you to 'The Poetic Mind' website. On this site you will be able to view some of my written work, buy personal poetry written for any occasion and purchase your very own copy of my book. THE POETIC MIND' and other books that will be on sale in the online bookstore. DUANE 'THE POETIC MIND' ABBOTT. Email: thepoeticmind@hotmail.co.uk.
thepoeticmonster.wordpress.com
The Poetic Monster | Just a Few Words From a Shy Beast
Just a Few Words From a Shy Beast. March 20, 2014. By The Poetic Monster. Wouldn’t it be nice. If we were just people. Not black or white. Not girl or guy. Not straight or gay. Not right or wrong. Not good or bad. Not better or worse. Wouldn’t it be nice. If we were just people. Tags: A non-judgemental world. Now wouldn't that be nice. March 12, 2014. By The Poetic Monster. She wears a nervous expression. As she screams in my face. Her frail body and tender skin. Deceives the minds of others. Who laugh w...
The Poet's Muse
Follow the journey of a Poet through the Ether's Mist as I release the Muse and record the Utterances of the Ages. Poetry from a life less ordinary. I am a real Renassiance man in the . (Hey, what century is this again, anyway? View my complete profile. Monday, July 16, 2007. Echoes among the laughter. Show the hidden truths. Casting a pall over the Earth. Even as the Demon's daughter. Comes to ease and soothe. Shadows etch across the pale. Moon, void of its mirth . The Warrior stands tall.
THE POETIC OIKOS | Satiate your hunger for poetry!
Satiate your hunger for poetry! Stay updated via RSS. EE CUMMINGS: May I Feel Said He. WH AUDEN: As I Walked Out One Evening. PABLO NERUDA: If You Forget Me. JOHN DONNE: The Canonization. On NISSIM EZEKIEL: Goodbye Party…. Shrithi on NISSIM EZEKIEL: Goodbye Party…. On HENRY LOUIS VIVIAN DEROZIO: Fr…. Mridula on HENRY LOUIS VIVIAN DEROZIO: Th…. Jennifer pashel on HENRY LOUIS VIVIAN DEROZIO: Fr…. Constantine P. Cavafy. EE CUMMINGS: May I Feel Said He. Posted: May 25, 2014 in Uncategorized. It’s fun said she.
thePoeticon - Poetic Illustrations
Drawing the Search for Love and Meaning. Poeticon is a minimalistic line drawing generated in a poetic mood using symbols. The poeticon depicts characters, situations and states of mind, incorporating approaches derived from the worlds of design, drawing and poetry. The Poeticon is about being optimistic and acting for a better life experience. Beating the tough routine with a positive say and a smile; delivering a smart message to the world, while always thinking out of the box. Love is a Key Feature.
thepoeticorchard.wordpress.com
The Poetic Orchard | A garden of expression, grown among the stones of the Brooklyn streets
A garden of expression, grown among the stones of the Brooklyn streets. Worlds Away (Carnarsie Beach). September 14, 2013. A grey day,. A fall from the sky day. Watched by the eyes of those. Who would burn us while sleeping,. Our blue sky of freedom. 88th street is broad. And ordianry, in daylight. But on midsummer’s evenings. And touches the stars. A hooded young man crouches. And watches me passing. I long for my city. And my dreams of this city. I came full of hope. But its flame could. To get richer,.
thepoeticpaladin.deviantart.com
ThePoeticPaladin (Brant Coleman) - DeviantArt
Window.devicePixelRatio*screen.width 'x' window.devicePixelRatio*screen.height) :(screen.width 'x' screen.height) " class="mi". Window.devicePixelRatio*screen.width 'x' window.devicePixelRatio*screen.height) :(screen.width 'x' screen.height) ". Join DeviantArt for FREE. Forgot Password or Username? All men dream, but not equally. Deviant for 4 Years. This deviant's full pageview. February 4, 1993. Last Visit: 20 hours ago. All men dream, but not equally. By moving, adding and personalizing widgets. But n...
Welcome
Or Call: 250.744.4357. To play a wrong note is insignificant; to play without passion is inexcusable.". Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything. ". After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.". Where words fail, music speaks.". If music be the food of love, play on.". Sign up for our free e-mail list. Get the latest information on events,.
thepoeticparadox.wordpress.com
The Poetic Paradox | Beautiful words, ugly world.
Beautiful words, ugly world. The Perhaps of Freedom. September 21, 2014. Birds in cages seldom know. What their wings can do. And those who drift among the lies. Can not tell what’s true. Perhaps the freedom that we prize. Is captivity as a whole. Or perhaps this freedom we desire. Is but an impossible goal. Perhaps the human condition. Has twisted what it means. To be free, to be self-governed. With none to intervene. Perhaps freedom should not. Determine just how free we are. To hang among the stars.
thepoeticphotograph.typepad.com
The Poetic Photograph
June 14, 2009. Im going to see some friends from out of state. The very trip that you were supposed to take a while. But it fell through. Like all of you. Like all of you. Thought id make the drive but a free plane ride is in. And just like that my fear of it disappeared. Like all of you. Like all of you. And i look high and low for yesterday. High and low for you and i. Once i can see straight i might move somewhere cold. Seattle or the bay area; to see your ghost. Whats left of you. Whats left of you.
Janine Graf |
Labore et dolore magna. This is a test of how the. This is a test of me creating. Is proudly powered by Wordpress.
