Style
Style--go ahead talking about style.
You can tell where a man gets his style just
as you can tell where Pavlowa got her legs
or Ty Cobb his batting eye.
Go on talking.
Only don't take my style away.
It's my face.
Maybe no good
but anyway, my face.
I talk with it, I sing with it, I see, taste and feel with it,
I know why I want to keep it.
Kill my style
and you break Pavlowa's legs,
and you blind Ty Cobb's batting eye.
Carl Sandburg
Vous avez aimé cette poésie ? faites la connaître !
D'autres poésies de Carl Sandburg
A Coin
Your western heads here cast on money,
You are the two...
A Fence
Now the stone house on the lake front is finished and the
A Sphinx
Close-mouthed you sat five thousand years and never let out a...
A Teamster's Farewell
Sobs En Route to a Penitentiary
Good-by...
A.E.F.
There will be a rusty gun on the wall, sweetheart,
The...
All Day Long
All day long in fog and wind,
The waves have flung their...
Among the Red Guns
Among the red guns,
In the hearts of soldiers
Running...
And They Obey
Smash down the cities.
Knock the walls to pieces.
Anna Imroth
Cross the hands over the breast here--so.
Straighten the...
Aprons of Silence
Many things I might have said today.
And I kept my mouth...
Précédentes poésies
[290] THESE MOMENTS OF INNOCENCE...
This morning i awoke from a dream,
to the quintessence of...
[260] TALE OF A TEAR DROP
A single Tear Drop-
Ovular formed,
Dangling on the...
[250] BY THE STREAMS OF KILLCLARKE.........................(Summer 2008 Competition Winner)
And the stream was long and narrow
Running 'side.....the...
[240] BRING ME DEATH, WHILE I SLEEP WITHIN A DREAM
And..... of what may I do for you........ in your final hour
[230] ROMANCE BE THE COLOUR AQUA
Somewhere between emerald 'n topaz is a world of aqua
