English | Spanish | French | German | Portuguese| Italian

friend poem

il n'y avait jamais un bruit près du bois mais d'un
quand je vais de nouveau à la terre
quand j'étais a enfoncé à Londres
le mouvement de votre corps est comme la musique
ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée
remplacez la vision du plaisir
avec ses cheveux flaying d'une manière extravagante

 



Poetry news via Google, MSN, and Yahoo!

  • Michael Jackson Records Album Of Robert Burns Poetry - TheCelebrityCafe.com
  • Make Magazine Release - Examiner.com
  • Community briefs June 11, 2008 (The Sharon Herald)
  • Idaho poet, kayaker William Studebaker presumed drowned - Idaho Statesman
  • Book of Poetry Brings Comfort to Grieving Family - BigNews.biz (press release)
  • New management at Artspace evicting many residents - Salt Lake Tribune
  • O United Nations - The New Nation
  • Special events: Bike to the Bay ready to start benefit rides - Toledo Blade
  • UT grad captures Literature Prize - Austin American-Statesman
  • Kiss the librarian - Bay Windows
  • PERFORMING IN PRISON: Both sides of the bars - Juneau Empire (subscription)
  • On This Day in History: August 12 No Kidding, This Kidd Could Dance - Brooklyn Daily Eagle
  • Seattle Urban League calls for counseling to help curb gang violence - KOMO News
  • Bush-wah's impeachment in Madame Marie's crystal ball? - WorldNetDaily
  • It's not just YourSpace - St. Louis Post-Dispatch
 

Refinance Mortgage

Home Mortgages

December 2007 Mortgage News

Poetry | Home | Contact Us | Educational Resources | Vote For This Poem | Visitor Favorites

Summer School Help Beginner Math Physics Primer Chemistry Primer Intro Psychology English Primer
Intro Grammar Beginner Writing American History American Civil War Intro Biology Composition Help


Check out El-Grande Web Directory today!


www.endlesspoetry.com ©Copyright 2004 - 2007 Michael VanDeMar All Rights Reserved