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Tuesday, January 19, 2010
My Poet
My Poet by Duyen Nguyen He reads Shakespeare, even in the early mornings When I am serene in dreams He is there by the window with the sunlight Emblazoned on his face He awakens me before dawn, by his soft voice As he richly recites Hamlet, "To be or not to be... " I cannot recall anymore than that... Sign in to see full entry.
Monet's Japanese Garden
Monet's Japanese Garden by Anna Nadgrodkiewicz Let me be a footbridge in your garden bend my spine over the hazel waters fraught with blinking eyes of lilies and coated by the scruffy beards of rustling bushes \Let me anchor my arms and feet in the damp soil of muddy shore and be one with the... Sign in to see full entry.
Van Gogh Paints the Stars
Van Gogh Paints the Stars by Jessica Rose Farrell He sits, his brush clasped in fingers numbed by cold, and stares at the evening sky as though it might pull off its hinges with a cry reminiscent of ravens in the glow of early morning and soar down to take him to heaven on jewel-encrusted wings.... Sign in to see full entry.