by Ralph Waldo Emerson Mine are the night and morning， The pits of air， the gulf of space， The sportive sun， the gibbous moon， The innumerable days. I...
by John Canaday I am a stubborn ox dreaming of rain as the drover's fingers drum around my eyes. But no： the wet hum of flies distracted me， and n...
by E. E. Cummings somewhere i have never travelled，gladly beyond any experience，your eyes have their silence： in your most frail gesture are things wh...
by Matthew Shenoda It is here on this ridge exposed to the orange dusk of mountain autumn that the story begins. Buck wood for the stove feel the heat...
by Walt Whitman Sometimes with one I love I fill myself with rage for fear I effuse unreturn'd love， But now I think there is no unreturn'd lo...
by Jean-Michel Maulpoix He remains there for a long time， starting at the blue， motionless and stiff， as if in a church， knowing nothing about what we...
by Garrett Hongo No one knew the secret of my flutes， and I laugh now because some said I was enlightened. But the truth is I'm only a gardener wh...
by Steve Scafidi It would have to shine. And burn. And be a sign of something infinite and turn things and people nearby into their wilder selves and ...
by Dennis O'Driscoll someone is dressing up for death today， a change of skirt or tie eating a final feast of buttered sliced pan， tea scarcely ha...
by Judith Viorst My mom says I'm her sugarplum. My mom says I'm her lamb. My mom says I'm completely perfect Just the way I am. My mom say...