#AmericanWriters
A toad the power mower caught, Chewed and clipped of a leg, with… To the garden verge, and sanctuari… Under the cineraria leaves, in the… Of the ashen and heartshaped leave…
The horse beneath me seemed To know what course to steer Through the horror of snow I drea… And so I had no fear, Nor was I chilled to death
It’s not the case, though some mig… Who from a window watch the blizza… White riot through their branches… That they keep snug beneath their… They take affliction in until it j…
Right down the shocked street with… siren-blast That sends all else skittering to… curb, Redness, brass, ladders and hats h…
A ball will bounce; but less and l… A light-hearted thing, resents its… Falling is what it loves, and the… So in our hearts from brilliance, Settles and is forgot.
In her room at the prow of the hou… Where light breaks, and the window… My daughter is writing a story. I pause in the stairwell, hearing From her shut door a commotion of…
Securely sunning in a forest glade… A mild, well-meaning snake Approved the adaptations he had ma… For safety’s sake. He liked the skin he had—
Seeing the snowman standing all al… In dusk and cold is more than he c… The small boy weeps to hear the wi… A night of gnashings and enormous… His tearful sight can hardly reach…
I read how Quixote in his random… Came to a crossing once, and lest… The purity of chance, would not de… Whither to fare, but wished his ho… For glory lay wherever turned the…
R.Frost 100th B’day The air was soft, the ground still… In wet dull pastures where I stro… Was something I could not believe… Dead grass appeared to slide and h…
The eyelids meet. He’ll catch a l… The grizzled, crew-cut head drops… It shakes above the briefcase on h… Close voices breathe, “Poor sweet… “Poor sweet, poor sweet,” the bird…
That flower unseen, that gem of pu… Bright thoughts uncut by men: Strange that you need but speak th… And the mind skips and dives beyon… Finding at once the wild supposed…
Your voice, with clear location of… Called me outside the window.You… Light yet composed, as in the just… Of uncontested summer all things r… Plainly their seeming into seamles…
Shall I love God for causing me t… I was mere utterance; shall these… Yet when I caused His work to jar… And one free subject loosened all… I love Him that He did not in a r…
The tall camels of the spirit Steer for their deserts, passing t… With the sawmill shrill of the loc… arid Sun. They are slow, proud,