she came to me at night.descending after turbulence;seeking the key to unlock her pastand know a heart that had always been her own;she deposited a surge on the back of my necklike an ebbing tide of warm wishes for my safety and pride to be soothed, and tended. I knew her.I had been waiting on her; inside some chance like this.I had been stuck in aftermath of my expired … [Read more...] about Written In Durham, By: Matt Hawkins
Sequel To The “Beggars,” 1802 – Composed Many Years After, By: William Wordsworth
Where are they now, those wanton Boys?For whose free range the daedal earthWas filled with animated toys,And implements of frolic mirth;With tools for ready wit to guide;And ornaments of seemlier pride,More fresh, more bright, than princes wear;For what one moment flung aside,Another could repair;What good or evil have they seenSince I their pastime witnessed here,Their daring … [Read more...] about Sequel To The “Beggars,” 1802 – Composed Many Years After, By: William Wordsworth
September 1815, By: William Wordsworth
While not a leaf seems faded; while the fields,With ripening harvest prodigally fair,In brightest sunshine bask; this nipping air,Sent from some distant clime where Winter wieldsHis icy scimitar, a foretaste yieldsOf bitter change, and bids the flowers beware;And whispers to the silent birds, "PrepareAgainst the threatening foe your trustiest shields."For me, who under kindlier … [Read more...] about September 1815, By: William Wordsworth
September 1819, By: William Wordsworth
The sylvan slopes with corn-clad fieldsAre hung, as if with golden shields,Bright trophies of the sun!Like a fair sister of the sky,Unruffled doth the blue lake lie,The mountains looking on. And, sooth to say, yon vocal grove,Albeit uninspired by love,By love untaught to ring,May well afford to mortal earAn impulse more profoundly dearThan music of the Spring. For 'that' … [Read more...] about September 1819, By: William Wordsworth
A Definition Of Marriage, By: Michael H. Brownstein
My wife, we share the same shape,taste the smell of what is to come. Sometimes our feet collect shoelaces,other times sweat between toes. Why have you written the wheezingon the bottom of your knees? A tattoo comes unhinged ridingmy forearm to the neck of your back. Under our shade tree, spoiled fruit dropsand a stranger nearby marches off to … [Read more...] about A Definition Of Marriage, By: Michael H. Brownstein