English | Spanish | French | German | Portuguese| Italian

short funny poem

quando ero si č rotto a Londra
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
sentite la pioggia?
del sole né stelle
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte
calma come che seconda estate
quando ero un ragazzo all'universitŕ
ottanta anni hanno passato e piů
fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma
faccialo rotare giů dal prato
il mio figlio č guasto e sono ciechi andanti
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
guardi indietro con gli occhi longing e sappia che seguirň
ma alas, sogni giusti

 



Poetry news via Google, MSN, and Yahoo!

  • Blinkered pastiche of a clichĂ© - HardNews Magazine
  • Fine Art. . . - The Zimbabwe Standard
  • Movie of the Week: Roxanne - TV Scoop
  • Poster poems: Calling for Clerihews - Guardian Blogs
  • When saving lives morphs into torture and killing - Sydney Morning Herald
  • Getting better every game - Aberdeen Press and Journal
  • Riley Roy Frazel - Eureka Reporter
  • Threadgill, Henry (Luther) - Jazz.com
  • Scissor Tales: Saturday, July 12, 2008 [5 hrs ago] - NewsOK.com (subscription)
  • The cult of Hadrian - guardian.co.uk
  • Bella Vista band leader Mitchell calling it quits - Benton County Daily Record
  • Poetry, competition combine to gain popularity - East Orlando Sun
  • Sun the star of this fest - London Free Press
  • Slavery Apology Is A Political Gimmick - The Bulletin
  • What Do Critics of Israel Have to Fear? - Israel e News
 

Get a Home Equity Loan today and save!

Get your Online Degree today!

November 2007 Mortgage News

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