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Why do I hate you? Let me count the ways...Oh I could list them.... but no - not the trivialitiesthat drive us into impotent blind ragecommitted..

Had you knownthat an old man was watchingwould you have beenmore gratefulfor your youth?

in the springan old man's fancylightly turns tothoughts ofre-evaluating the concept oflove

Your box of brand-new football bootsthis European season, where the diktat from Brussels sprouts hurhur,will bear the helpful message'Average..

I started to write about howI love youbut then the mind couldn't distinguishwhich was I, or you, or love...I started to write that our love was..

I've just made a passable loaf:the mixing bowl could almostbe called a Thanksgiving Bowl -maybe, could start a fashion:it's made, not of..

sometimes,some wonder times,I read a poem here andinstantly want, becauseof the love of poetryor goodness, or truth, or beauty, orwhatever, tolive..

It’s in a quiet corner to itselfaway from the grandiose creations of theItalian Renaissance gallery, soyou can stand undisturbed to wonderjust what’s..

I think of you more often nowadays, I don’t know why;how is it now with you?And are you still somewhere – if you ever were -that I might talk to..

Love is life. Life is love.Everything I understand,I understand only becauseI love.Everything is,everything existsonly becauseI love.Everything is..

'O Lord, I am Your goldsmith on this earth'sang Sonar, Maharashtra's poet of old,who hammered out the ingots of pure truthto poetry, that turns..

to enjoy the enjoyable. It seems a modest enough aimand what we're meant to do by human nature, surely? and yetthat urge to set up the next scene, to..

An ordinary lifecan bring youall the lovein the worldsooner or later

oh shitty kittywhat a pitykitty's bitteryou're out of kitty litter

He read aloud, his dry and academic voiceso quivering with conviction which we did not share,his offering for a footnote which did not requirethis..

Listen to the sound of this reed-flute –hear what it says. First, it lamentsits banishment; its tearing awayfrom its home, its reed-bed. Andthis..

Do you wish to know what is your 'soul',in all its glory, and its whole estate?To know if it knows but a part, or All?Its birth; its growth, its life..

It's a bit like a trip in a hot air balloon -the hot air of thousands of years ofpoets poetizing; all trying to float a little higher than the..

Why is this sonnet form so dear to me?this silent cloister of the singing heartwhere I may be myself in sanctityyet meet beloved strangers there in..

This first August week, the geraniumsare flowering their second flush:they braved last winter, huddled like cabbage stalksso as to be inconspicuousto..

even beforeyou writethe poemyou should lovethe readers

Tenderlywith its soft leavesthe tree shaded the poetas he wroteand as its leaves felland the year turnedthe tree wishedthat it might be rebornas a..

Tenderlyunder the tree's shadethe poet wrote;wishingthat his poemsmight have the graceof the tree.the tree heardthe poet's wishand gave itself,to..

The poem saidread methen put aside the poemand meet me between the words

It's mealtime. You knockon her door with just the right degree of respectthat behoves a parent to their child;this she will always notice and..