my bones are stonehard and heavylike the weight of your expectationswhich roll their crushing clarityover my naivetyand I'm too tired to movethe effort is as massive asyour ego that judges mefinding fault with the geometryof the olive branch I extended to you … [Read more...] about My Bones Are Stone, By: Paulette Hampton
Lines Written In The Album Of The Countess Of Lonsdale. Nov. 5, 1834, By: William Wordsworth
Lady! a Pen (perhaps with thy regard,Among the Favoured, favoured not the least)Left, 'mid the Records of this Book inscribed,Deliberate traces, registers of thoughtAnd feeling, suited to the place and timeThat gave them birth: months passed, and still this hand,That had not been too timid to imprintWords which the virtues of thy Lord inspired,Was yet not bold enough to write … [Read more...] about Lines Written In The Album Of The Countess Of Lonsdale. Nov. 5, 1834, By: William Wordsworth
Peaches Yum, By: The Editors
Peaches yum, want some Gold ring, diamond bling Cat scratch, quilt patch Hats sun, swimming fun Monkey's zoo, I love you … [Read more...] about Peaches Yum, By: The Editors
Harvest Time, By: David Browne
I can see through you, weather, whether you like it or not.I know you know the tractors are in the fields tomorrow as I can see youediting your plans, hoping to use up some left over rain from last week.You need to pull your socks up and whilst you’re at itget some nice new ones with elasticated tops.One’s that tractors can rely on. … [Read more...] about Harvest Time, By: David Browne
Lines Written In Early Spring, By: William Wordsworth
I heard a thousand blended notes,While in a grove I sate reclined,In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughtsBring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature linkThe human soul that through me ran;And much it grieved my heart to thinkWhat man has made of man. Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;And 'tis my faith that … [Read more...] about Lines Written In Early Spring, By: William Wordsworth