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You know the type - the word's just perfect for him:built like an ox, brain like a moron.shaved head, one ear-ring, bull neck,gold chain..

When everything is said, my love,there’s only love to say;and though love’s word can not be said,and love will live when we are dead,I’ll say it yet..

Law of love? Sounds good… so, tell me more…Love of law? mmm…maybe…not so sure…You can disregard the ancients –label them Not Applicable – bin that..

I'm always getting this junky mailplopping through the doorinviting me to a 'car boot sale' -but I never wear boots in the car!

and mind might ask,why then are brain cells gray? Is itbecause the world is justso wonderful, that they, stunnedand amazed, cannot decidewhich colour..

O, what is the song this late, late rose is singing?where will its petals fall, pale orange-yellow rose?when shall the breeze and the rose cease..

Isn’t it strange, this thing calledPoetry – and even stranger, these thingscalled similes and metaphors, which arethe very essence of what poetryuses..

I was born to be a metaphor;Darwin, embarrassed, did not talk of me;I did not fit into his scheme of things; I,knowing secrets of the tears of..

lonelydropped a word to me todaysaidyou wrote a poem about me thanksyesterday soI wanted to explain myselfespecially as they’re discussing me right..

your life’s a mess.you’re a mess.oh forget the details.a mess. totally.so who to blame?your parents of course, like everyone else does.they **** you..

Zeke Snirer.he’s young. ish.he’s got something to offer the world:he’s the best judge of poetry. ever.this is his sincere opinion.so he’s obliged to..

'What is the purpose of poetry? [Candidateswill be awarded up to 80% of the total marksfor this paper on the answer tothis question. Write on one..

Morning newspapers existto bring us spluttering outrageat the breakfast table, Soggiessplattered over our office gear...but sometimes they have..

When I was a-dyin', lyin' on the sidewalk,head split, blood 'n brains a-runnin' down the drain,my life flashed backwards in my mind, just like they..

(said to have been found on a Sumerian clay tablet)'I, of course, would neverhave sanctioned this,had I known about it...Right now, I'm lookingfor a..

I wonder if Wordsworthnoticed that if he stoodvery still, aware of his bodyfrom his toes up to his headand looked at the host ofnodding daffodils..

We throw them to the winds;like water from a shower;what wind? what shower? and who throws them to whom?In 1996, John Bargh, with scrupulous..

Nondescript – her clothes say nothingexcept perhaps, ‘neatish’; hair – just there..certainly quiet; not hiding behind a bookor newspaper; nice eyes..

Some people love the experimental in poetryPoetry, in the experimental, love some peopleLove poetry, experimental people. SomeLovesomeChallenging all..

The wise love wisely.It’s said, that when the truly wisesurface from their sleep,they see nought but heavenly bluein which the world then gently..

and they behave like children –always themselves, and always natural,all they do is natural;they seem to be as expert untaught children;and yet, they..

I wandered lonely as a cloudo'er California's rocky coastand fields of melons, oversized,and Baywatch babes to match;Earth hath not anything to show..

The bees, this year,have come before the swallows dareand take the wings of Aprilinadvisedly;ignoring the cloud of jasmine around the open..

I've got a cuddly teddy bear,Jesus is his name.I wondered what to call him;and then the answer came:My Mom and Dad have told methat he's the friend..

Light. Lightness. Light-heartedness.Who can measure their measureless weight?On the kitchen scales, we balanceweight against weight; but how..