vintage
Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.
Ode to the Blue Mountains Train.
Oh Blue Mountains express how I loveth thee. You carry me from place to place and give me such sights to see. You stop sometimes to pick up those who don’t follow the rules, but you don’t care about those silly “of all ages” fools.
By Sara Elizabeth Joyce5 years ago in Poets
The Heir's Dilemma
The Executor had sent me the plane ticket that brought me to New York City. I’d never been to The Big Apple but felt sufficiently-familiar with the city, from videos and virtual reality walking tours, that I carried myself with a ‘been-there-done-that attitude’, without ever having been there or having done that.
By Mike Adamovich5 years ago in Poets
Flanders field WW1 poem.
In the Flanders fields, the poppies grow and blow in the wind. The blood of my brothers will not be vain. Come on my Conrad’s pick up that torch and March to victory. Every man, every foe. Every scar and every tear. Lord knows the cries of these brave men. We were lost and never found. These crosses mark our path, not our success. We were enemies but we became brothers. We want peace lest we forget, no man will feel cold no more. We shall not sleep we shall not rest. Thou god knows the poppies will grow in Flanders fields.
By Tristan Stuart5 years ago in Poets
