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The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends

upon

a red wheel

barrow

glazed with rain

water

beside the white

chickens

#the#red#wheelbarrow

William Carlos Williams

William Carlos Williams (September 17, 1883 – March 4, 1963) was a Puerto Rican-American poet, writer, and physician closely associated with mod

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Tract
I will teach you my townspeople how to perform a funeral for you have it over a troop of artists- unless one should scour the world- you have the ground sense necessary See the hearse leads I begin with a design for a hearse...
Blizzard
Snow falls:years of anger followinghours that float idly down —the blizzarddrifts its weightdeeper and deeper for three daysor sixty years, eh Thenthe sun a clutter ofyellow and blue flakes —Hairy looking trees stand outin long alleysove...
The Widows Lament In Springtime
Sorrow is my own yardwhere the new grassflames as it has flamedoften before but notwith the cold firethat closes round me this year Thirtyfive yearsI lived with my husband The plumtree is white todaywith masses of flowers Masses of ...
Poem
As the catclimbed overthe top ofthe jamclosetfirst the rightforefootcarefullythen the hindstepped downinto the pit ofthe emptyflowerpot

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Invictus

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.

William Ernest Henley

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the

Your presence

The loneliness which has longed in my heartForced me to imagine your dream flight When I decide to leave this present day What is filled with the useless minute's play. The sudden pulse of the unlimited warm Makes the way over the ...

Holly Lvova

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the

Ode to the West Wind

I O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,

Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Беспредельное потребление

век селфи и смузи, загнившего мозга,души на аршин не познанной. куда посылать "SOS" азбукой Морзе, на шарике мёрзлом ёрзая? отребье-отрыбье - теперь ""потребитель"", кредиты на ум не розданы.

ЧерТа Татьяна Чернышова

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Реликты

Двое в каменном плену, время тратит впустую песок, Обнулился в сотый раз счётчик сердцебиений. Забродил в прозрачных венах так быстро живительный сок, Но в лавине дней не спрятан последний.

Арслан Нохаев

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William Shakespeare Сонет 127 /свободный перевод/

В старину чернокожих не ценили, Красавиц черных не было в веках. И полукровка блеснуть бессильна, Но черный оценили при свечах. Их красота все так же безымянна,

Геннадий Сорокин

The Red Wheelbarrow

William Carlos Williams

Другие работы автора

Tract

I will teach you my townspeople how to perform a funeral for you have it over a troop of artists- unless one should scour the world- you have the ground sense necessary See the hearse leads I begin with a design for a hearse...

Blizzard

Snow falls:years of anger followinghours that float idly down —the blizzarddrifts its weightdeeper and deeper for three daysor sixty years, eh Thenthe sun a clutter ofyellow and blue flakes —Hairy looking trees stand outin long alleysove...

The Widows Lament In Springtime

Sorrow is my own yardwhere the new grassflames as it has flamedoften before but notwith the cold firethat closes round me this year Thirtyfive yearsI lived with my husband The plumtree is white todaywith masses of flowers Masses of ...

Poem

As the catclimbed overthe top ofthe jamclosetfirst the rightforefootcarefullythen the hindstepped downinto the pit ofthe emptyflowerpot

Сегодня читают

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.

Your presence

The loneliness which has longed in my heartForced me to imagine your dream flight When I decide to leave this present day What is filled with the useless minute's play. The sudden pulse of the unlimited warm Makes the way over the ...

Ode to the West Wind

I O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,

Беспредельное потребление

Реликты

William Shakespeare Сонет 127 /свободный перевод/

В старину чернокожих не ценили, Красавиц черных не было в веках. И полукровка блеснуть бессильна, Но черный оценили при свечах. Их красота все так же безымянна,