Стихи и рассказы из категории about

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I
There was a naughty boy, A naughty boy was he,
He would not stop at home, He could not quiet be- He took In his knapsack A book Full of vowels And a shirt With some towels, A slight cap For night cap, A hair brush, Comb ditto, New stoc...
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When people aren't asking questions They're making suggestions And when they're not doing one of those They're either looking over your shoulder or stepping on your toes And then as if that weren't enough to annoy you They employ you
Anybody ...
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O mother mine,
Dau (Balram)forever teases never gave birth to me,and I was bought in the is what he tells meo mother mihne,
Dau forever teases up of his teasing ways,
I don't go out to is your mother
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She gave me hope she gave me love, with bounty unalloyed
But what she had of faith, alas, she gave to Freud
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On winter pavements I will pound Them down with glistening glass and sun,
Will let the ceiling hear their sound,
Damp corners-read them, one by one
The attic will repeat my themes And bow to winter with my lines,
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At the earliest ending of winter,
In March, a scrawny cry from
Seemed like a sound in his mind
He knew that he heard it,
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No doubt about it,the mountain cuckoois a crybaby
Translated by Robert Hass
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"I write about the butterfly, It is a pretty thing; And flies about like the birds, But it does not sing
"First it is a little grub, And then it is a nice yellow cocoon, And then the butterfly Eats its way out soon
"They l...
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For lack of a nail the kingdom has fallen —according to the wisdom of nursery schools—but in our kingdom there have been no nails for a long time there aren’t and won’t be either the small ones for hanging a picture on a wall or large ones for clo...
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Coleridge received the Person from Porlock And ever after called him a curse,
Then why did he hurry to let him in
He could have hid in the house
It was not right of Coleridge in fact it was wrong (But often we all do wrong) As the t...
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Why don't the records go blankthe instant the singer dies
Oh,
I know there are explanationsbut they don't convince meI'm still
When I hear the dead
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1
Montego Bay, 10:00 P
M
A chandelier, a tiara, a hive of lights
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M
B
I threw my arms about those shoulders, glancing at what emerged behind that back, and saw a chair pushed slightly forward, merging now with the lighted wall
The lamp glared too bright to show the shabby furniture to some advanta...
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They say its Ironic how cops never clash with Blacks, but I find it Mornic how they whip there guns within a flash. From here to there all they see is their past now their living their last, they wear a mask to put on an act that they actual...
AMERIKKKA
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