English | Spanish | French | German | Portuguese| Italian

poem

et pain de breaketh pas plus
une fois ce gazon mou
juste en tant que mes doigts sur ces clefs
je n'ai jamais su que la terre a eu tellement l'or
sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne
o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques
exprimons nos passions plus basses
qui appellera le vent
ils peuvent parler de l'amour dans une petite maison
je vous ai détesté
je suis une femme

 



Poetry news via Google, MSN, and Yahoo!

  • 05-08-08 EUR ALL ON ONE PAGE - Eurweb.com
  • The Tampa Tribune - Tampa Tribune
  • Close to Home: School Notes - Maine Sunday Telegram
  • Ode to Recovery - RedOrbit
  • Asheville a book lover's paradise - Asheville Citizen-Times
  • Metaphors for Dummies* By Mary Grabar - Town Hall
  • Civil War soldiers, civilians focus of program - Richmond Times Dispatch
  • EATING CONTEST (The Myrtle Beach Sun News)
  • TEMPO: Musings on relationships in new book ‘re:Play’ by Michael ... - Sierra Vista Herald
  • THE SATURDAY LIST: Free Press critics' picks for this weekend (Detroit Free Press)
  • Repeat performances - The Gazette (Montreal)
  • Kendrick-Juliaetta News - Latah Eagle
  • What You're Saying - Urbanite Baltimore
  • 'Voice of my ancestors' guided N. Scott Momaday, keynote speaker ... - Quick DFW
  • Small Talk: Siri Hustvedt - Financial Times
 

Get better Mortgage Rates today and save!

Second Mortgages

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