English | Spanish | French | German | Portuguese| Italian

poetry poem

ceux-ci soient
son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
j'ai gagné la course
je suis allé à travers les rues
jamais dans toute ma vie
juste en tant que mes doigts sur ces clefs
environ porté plainte au maître
mais je ne puis pas vous lire maintenant
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main
la terre garde aller de vibration
se reposer dans son culbuteur attendant votre thé
la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir

 



Poetry news via Google, MSN, and Yahoo!

  • Year Long Homecoming Celebrations Beckon Blood and Heart Scots to ... - Forbes
  • Citizen Cope - NewHampshire.com
  • Iran: Prof. Ivery presented with Farabi International Award - Mathaba.Net
  • Student stabbed over cellphone - Sarnia Observer
  • The lure of the street - guardian.co.uk
  • Outskirts Press Announces ‘To God Be The Glory’, The Latest Highly ... - PR Web (press release)
  • Grimshaw reunites with award-winning characters (Otago Daily Times)
  • Green Says ‘No’ To Comeback Mundine Rematch - Secondsout.com
  • POSTCARD USA: He could have danced all night —Khalid Hasan - Daily Times
  • On Poetry: Non-Hallmark words for father - Traverse City Record-Eagle
  • making hay - ic Wales
  • Live Music at Armando’s in Martinez - Listen & Be Heard
  • The Arty Party - Gamasutra
  • Considerate despot - Examiner
  • The Posting Board (Harvard Hillside)
 

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