Poetry Catalog

I say he touched meAnd now,shocked and saddened,you know.But you don’t really “know”.You don’t know the layersblanketed beneath that statement.You don’t know the thread that he carelessly pulledunraveled like a web around me.You don’t know the things that I experienced,the awareness,Far earlier than you even knew existed.The nightsthat never ended,The dayswith unending corners … [Read more...] about I Know, By: R.M. Newton

Ye Trees! whose slender roots entwineAltars that piety neglects;Whose infant arms enclasp the shrineWhich no devotion now respects;If not a straggler from the herdHere ruminate, nor shrouded bird,Chanting her low-voiced hymn, take prideIn aught that ye would grace or hideHow sadly is your love misplaced,Fair Trees, your bounty run to waste! Ye, too, wild Flowers! that no one … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 – XXIII. – Among The Ruins Of A Convent In The Apennines, By: William Wordsworth

Do you think the same thing when I see you? It’s always out of the blue I never know what to do Do you think of me when she touches you? I think of you when I touch her even if it’s just a blur I still think of my girl Do you remember that day we crossed the line of friends to lovers the things we did under covers while lying to your mother and listening … [Read more...] about See You, By: Lauren O Sullivan

Eternal Lord! eased of a cumbrous load,And loosened from the world, I turn to Thee;Shun, like a shattered bark, the storm, and fleeTo thy protection for a safe abode.The crown of thorns, hands pierced upon the tree,The meek, benign, and lacerated face,To a sincere repentance promise grace,To the sad soul give hope of pardon free.With justice mark not Thou, O Light divine,My … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 – XXII. – At Florence – From M. Angelo, By: William Wordsworth

Wind bare fall and winter frostOhh we had spring green summer, and lostWhere gold leaves layWhere indigo days washThe salt sweet season awayCrowns of thornsCloaks of crowsOur young bones, flung downTurn rock and stoneAnd the carbon sky, crawled crossBlew wind bare fall and winter frost … [Read more...] about Wind Bare Fall, By: Edward Spencer