English | Spanish | French | German | Portuguese| Italian

funny poem

riempio questa tazza
il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti
nei numeri mournful
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
in settembre
guardi indietro con gli occhi longing e sappia che seguirò
quando un atto è fatto per la libertà
la fragranza è venuto
non posso ritenere sempre il suo greatness

 



Poetry news via Google, MSN, and Yahoo!

  • Google Should Give You Some of Its Ad Revenue - New York Times Blogs
  • The Daily Journal's Student of the Day: Bruno Costanzo (Daily Journal)
  • Authors get rock-star treatment at Brazil festival - Washington Post
  • Poetry for the season - Holland Sentinel
  • ‘Essential Self-Defense’: An indie ‘Babes in Toyland’ - Boston Herald
  • A muse's job is to penetrate the male artist and bring forth a ... - guardian.co.uk
  • Vice-regal shirt-front - The Australian
  • Laying of cornerstone marks project's completion - Meriden Record-Journal
  • Waterfront shanties earn their keep - Barnstable Patriot
  • Ashada, a month of inspiration - Udayavani
  • Burning is too good for them - Times Online
  • HallgrĂ­mur Helgason's top 10 books - guardian.co.uk
  • Clashing portraits emerge of anthrax suspect - Los Angeles Times
  • Frisson of words to keep you warm - The Age
  • Global unity and struggle discussed at forum - Workers World
 

Get a better Mortgage Rate today and save!

California 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