English | Spanish | French | German | Portuguese| Italian | Romanian

grandma poem

ich loathed Sie
häufig denke ich an die schöne Stadt
fĂĽr Wahrheit fĂĽr Liebe
wenig Park, den ich durch fĂĽhre
das Emporheben, als der Wind brannte durch
unter dem Helm des Warriors
wenn, voll von der warmen und eifrigen Liebe
niedrig! ' tis ein Galanacht

 



Poetry news via Google, MSN, and Yahoo!

  • Her Nature Was Future: Emily Dickinson's White Heat - Nation
  • On the Many Beginnings of African Literature: An Interview with Dr ... - Shaebia
  • Playwrights discuss Thornton Wilder's underappreciated genius - The Times of Trenton - NJ.com
  • Put Some Shake in your Shaker - Boise Weekly
  • On the Block: Anarchy and Nostalgia - New York Times
  • Gulf Coast residents making lemonade from lemons - Montgomery Advertiser
  • Sundays in the (community history) salon - Portsmouth Herald News
  • Kissing Jackman was good: Kidman - ninemsn
  • Family: Author Adoff wants ‘what’s best for the story’ - The State
  • Talent night at Sun Theatre - Gothenburg Times
  • Gardening: Time of balance approaches (Muskogee Phoenix)
  • The Solution to Hunting's Woes? Setting Sights on Women - Wall Street Journal
  • Myth and magic of Wilfred Owen - BBC News
  • Former teacher may face prison time (St. Joseph News-Press)
  • City honors 'profound sacrifice' of veterans - Portsmouth Herald News
 

Mortgage Refinancing

Home Mortgage

Mortgage News Archives

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