written by Carl SandburgThe sea is never still.
It pounds on the shore
Restless as a young heart,
Hunting.
The sea speaks
And only the stormy hearts
Know what it says:
It is the face
of a rough mother speaking.
The sea is young.
One storm cleans all the hoar
And loosens the age of it.
I hear it laughing, reckless.
They love the sea,
Men who ride on it
And know they will die
Under the salt of it
Let only the young come,
Says the sea.
Let them kiss my face
And hear me.
I am the last word
And I tell
Where storms and stars come from.
Carl Sandburg
written by Carl Sandburg, published on Tue 06.21.2011 at 13:37
I too have a garret of old playthings.
I have tin soldiers with broken arms upstairs.
written by Carl Sandburg, published on Sun 06.19.2011 at 22:52
Among the mountains I wandered and saw blue haze and red crag and was amazed;
Read poem...written by Carl Sandburg, published on Thu 06.16.2011 at 07:21
Between two hills
The old town stands.
The houses loom
And the roofs and trees
And the dusk and the dark,
The damp and the dew
written by Carl Sandburg, published on Mon 06.13.2011 at 18:24
You come along. . . tearing your shirt. . . yelling about
Jesus.
Where do you get that stuff?
What do you know about Jesus?
written by Carl Sandburg, published on Sat 06.11.2011 at 13:36
Mrs. Gabrielle Giovannitti comes along Peoria Street
every morning at nine o'clock
written by Carl Sandburg, published on Tue 05.24.2011 at 23:22
Wagon wheel gap is a place I never saw
And Red Horse Gulch and the chutes of Cripple Creek.