English | Spanish | French | German | Portuguese| Italian

grandma poem

ich loathed Sie
es gab drei in der Wiese durch den Bach
unter dem Erntemond
es gibt keine Menge, gleichwohl aufgepaßt und geneigt
unten gekommen an der Dämmerung von den windless Hügeln
niedrig! ' tis ein Galanacht
ich liebte eine Frau
hängen Sie keinen Wreath
wenn ihr Haar wild flaying
zweifellos erinnere mich ich noch
wenn ich zurück zu Masse gehe

 



Poetry news via Google, MSN, and Yahoo!

  • Giving the Holocaust a Creative Voice - Jewish Exponent
  • Johnson, Barbara E. Nee: Ozburn - Wrightstown Post Gazette
  • When Free Speech Doesn’t Come Free - Middle East Online
  • New translations tie eternal bond between Turkey, Pakistan - The News - International
  • Reed’s influence ripples across generations - Nashville City Paper
  • FOLK POETRY SOCIETY HONOURS SHAIKH ISA BIN RASHID - Bahrain News Agency
  • No anger in Winger's 'Undiscovered' - Deseret News
  • Virtuoso guitarist knows how to be sexy without really trying - Tacoma News Tribune
  • Duo draws crowd - East Tennessean Online Edition (subscription)
  • At 99, New Hampshire man becomes a first-time author (Boston Globe)
  • A Scholarly Reppin of Seattle Hip Hop - Asianjournal.com
  • Fifth-grader wins bicycle essay contest (Daily Herald)
  • IRAQ: Marine convicted of murder sent to Leavenworth prison - Los Angeles Times
  • Poetry of Ireland, The - DVDTOWN.com
  • Radio repairman saved collection of rare '40s recordings - Scripps News
 

Refinance your Mortgage today and save!

California 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