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Central Park Violence
© Sharon Esther Lampert
Sharon Esther Lampert
Sexiest Creative Genius in Human History
8th Prophetess of Israel: 22 Commandments
http://www.poetryjewels.com
Shaydayim
© Sharon Esther Lampert
(1) Caressing my tender breasts,
his left hand's on the steering wheel,
and his right hand is firmly tucked
away inside my red silk dress.
Remo: "Drink, Drink, Drink"
© Sharon Esther Lampert
At Quattro Gatti, she is the poet-in-residence:
In Barcelona, Piccasso started here, painting
A humble sketch of a picket-white fence.
Spicewood
© Lizette Woodworth Reese
It is as though the young Year, ere he pass,
To the white riot of the cherry tree,
Would fain accustom us, or here, or there,
To his new sudden ways with bough and grass,
So starts with what is humble, plain to see,
And all familiar as a cup, a chair.
An Antique
© Madison Julius Cawein
Mildewed and gray the marble stairs
Rise from their balustraded urns
To where a chiseled satyr glares
From a luxuriant bed of ferns;
Sonnet LXIX
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Written at the same place, on seeing a Seaman return
who had been imprisoned at Rochfort.
CLOUDS, gold and purple, o'er the western ray
Threw a bright veil, and catching lights between,
For a Statue of Anacreon
© Theocritus
This statue, stranger, scan with earnest gaze;
And, home returning, say "I have beheld
Anacreon, in Teos; him whose lays
Were all unmatched among our sires of eld."
Say further: "Youth and beauty pleased him best;"
And all the man will fairly stand exprest.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Poet's Tale; Lady Wentworth
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Such was the mansion where the great man dwelt.
A widower and childless; and he felt
The loneliness, the uncongenial gloom,
That like a presence haunted every room;
For though not given to weakness, he could feel
The pain of wounds, that ache because they heal.
I Dream Of My Grandmother And Great-grandmother
© Maria Mazziotti Gillan
I imagine them walking down rocky paths
toward me, strong, Italian women returning
at dusk from fields where they worked all day
on farms built like steps up the sides
The First Flight
© William Henry Ogilvie
While there 's one on his feet with a tale to repeat
And another is sampling a drink,
Flight
© Madison Julius Cawein
THE SONG-BIRDS? are they flown away?
The song-birds of the summer-time,
Sister M. B.s Arrival In Montreal , 1654.
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
It is now two hundred years and more
Since first set foot on Canadian shore
That saint-like heroine, fair and pure,
Prepared all things for Christ to endure;
Resigning rank and kindred ties,
And her sunny home neath Frances skies.
Name Sakes
© Alfred Noyes
BUT where's the brown drifter that went out alone ?
-Roll and go, and fare you well-
" Was her name Peggy Nutten? " That name is my own.
Fare you well, my sailor.
At Vaucluse
© Alfred Austin
By Avignon's dismantled walls,
Where cloudless mid-March sunshine falls,
Rhone, through broad belts of green,
Flecked with the light of almond groves,
Upon itself reverting, roves
Reluctant from the scene.
Acon and Rhodope
© Walter Savage Landor
Fathers have given life, but virgin heart
They never gave; and dare they then control
Or check it harshly? dare they break a bond
Girt round it by the holiest Power on high?
