Poems

Foremen have told me morethan once, "Top Hand, you dothe work of four."Because I told him., "Cut mefour checks," he don't tell methat no moreThat don't slow me downCan't hold back the frownFor the lost souls in the wrongKarma coming for you dudeAre relations great or rudeSit down and hear this songIn the air we work our magicFor all the world to seeNot … [Read more...] about Karma Bites, By: Erik Iverson

It’s saidand to a faultit’s donewhat’s done, we didon Christmas Eve.I checked my watchas my youthful years fadedand smoked a cigarette.I moved my eyes aroundthe living room window.White lacy flakesdance through the atmosphereaccumulating a glow.I slipped over slick streetslaced with fairy lust,falling fast intoa crush;eyes searching for truthat a coffee date.A hazelnut … [Read more...] about Holiday Love: A Coffee Date, By: Andrew Cyr

A Famous man is Robin Hood,The English ballad-singer's joy!And Scotland has a thief as good,An outlaw of as daring mood;She has her brave ROB ROY!Then clear the weeds from off his Grave,And let us chant a passing stave,In honour of that Hero brave! Heaven gave Rob Roy a dauntless heartAnd wondrous length and strength of arm:Nor craved he more to quell his foes,Or keep his … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 X. Rob Roy’s Grave, By: William Wordsworth

Behold her, single in the field,Yon solitary Highland Lass!Reaping and singing by herself;Stop here, or gently pass!Alone she cuts and binds the grain,And sings a melancholy strain;O listen! for the Vale profoundIs overflowing with the sound. No Nightingale did ever chauntMore welcome notes to weary bandsOf travellers in some shady haunt,Among Arabian sands:A voice so … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 VIII. The Solitary Reaper, By: William Wordsworth

"What, you are stepping westward?" "Yea."'Twould be a 'wildish' destiny,If we, who thus together roamIn a strange Land, and far from home,Were in this place the guests of Chance:Yet who would stop, or fear to advance,Though home or shelter he had none,With such a sky to lead him on? The dewy ground was dark and cold;Behind, all gloomy to behold;And stepping westward seemed … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 VII. Stepping Westward, By: William Wordsworth