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You can publish your Poem, Story, or Book on www.PoemHash.com for free.
You can publish your Poem, Story, or Book on www.PoemHash.com for free.
'T WAS in one of them " Come in Stranger, " joints,That sure does lots of good,Where they give you... Read More
In the heart of a land, both proud and wide,Where rivers of voices and dreams collide,A nation stands, divided yet... Read More
Are you, are you Coming to the tree Where they strung up a man they say murdered three. Strange things... Read More
in Poem
They say that sometimeslove starts with a spark. And that might be true,but if I were to wish you a... Read More
Who is Whitney Hanson? Whitney Hanson is a famous Author from The United States. She is author of “Home” her first poetry collection about... Read More
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos... Read More
No man is an island, Entire of itself; Every man is a piece of the continent, A part of the... Read More
What a thrill - My thumb instead of an onion. The top quite gone Except for a sort of hinge... Read More
Gerd sits spindle-shanked in her dark tent, Lean face gone tawn with seasons , Skin worn down to the knucklebones... Read More
Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people. Where do the black trees go that drink here? Their shadows must... Read More
'T WAS in one of them " Come in Stranger, " joints,That sure does lots of good,Where they give you... Read More
In the heart of a land, both proud and wide,Where rivers of voices and dreams collide,A nation stands, divided yet... Read More
Are you, are you Coming to the tree Where they strung up a man they say murdered three. Strange things... Read More
They say that sometimeslove starts with a spark. And that might be true,but if I were to wish you a... Read More
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos... Read More
No man is an island, Entire of itself; Every man is a piece of the continent, A part of the... Read More
What a thrill - My thumb instead of an onion. The top quite gone Except for a sort of hinge... Read More
Gerd sits spindle-shanked in her dark tent, Lean face gone tawn with seasons , Skin worn down to the knucklebones... Read More
Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people. Where do the black trees go that drink here? Their shadows must... Read More
Through portico of my elegant house you stalk With your wild furies, disturbing garlands of fruit And the fabulous lutes... Read More