Annie Cordelia Adams
Honesty. It is the absolute embodiment of my poems. I do not write what I do not feel. So, I do not look for inspiration. It either falls into my lap, or it isn't there. Everything I write, is in completely honest form. Well, then, my poems become me. more »
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Annie Cordelia Adams Poems
A Little Picture
A little picture, browned, Had a tear on its edge Where moth and rust Plagued it away
After a Thousand Years I'll Meet You Und...
The Sun screams for me to catch it But I can not adhere The clouds: they ask me to ride I reach and they've disappeared
() |() |() bEternity at Sea/b
That if I would, I would stand immortally at sea Gazing for eternity at sea
Beauty In the Eye of the Beholder
I swept my hair to the side and looked at you in your eyes the grey foam sea just behind the black and depth words you sigh
b() |() |() This Poem Was Wr...
you'd never know how my heart trembled when in the night you spoke to me
Cavalry of Waves
I miss the sea and its cavalry of waves I miss the salty air and salty breath My heart leaps to jump into its arms I miss the subtle breeze felt from afar
b() |() |() Howl at the Wind/b
i am drawn by an unknown force to your shore line to your sea
() |() |() Seulement dans...
Nameless Love veracious truth unyielding strength you are a great deal too good for me
() |() |() I Do Not See How I Am Capa...
I do not see how I am capable of love Whereas thousands were meant for solitude How I ever thought I could fit my hand in that glove I will never comprehend; ever know the mood
b() |() |() Seventeen Forever/b
i always kinda thought it would end in a broken heart i just never knew it would be mine i always thought it would end in a death
Along the River Fuji
along the river fuji bright, where a mountain stands before me tall
An Empty Whole
I suddenly feel free like I've reached the top of the mountain, but not the reaching that has turned the key
b() |() |() Eternity at Sea II...
If the beauty of truth were quick, I would stand immortally at Sea, Gazing for eternity at Sea
b() |() |() I Left My Heart At ...
I left my heart at Sea- they say.... In the towering lighthouse-
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
A Little Picture
A little picture, browned,
Had a tear on its edge
Where moth and rust
Plagued it away
Wherever was this picture found?
In an attic? Where dust collects?
A tiny picture, profound
In all measure, fledged
With beauty like gold dust
A blooming fleur bouquet
Like an old tea gown
It was tossed with willful neglect
It did, very much, astound
Those who pledged
Their direct trust
Who lived in that day
Who’s beauty it drank down
In honest respect, its object
An old memory found
In a river of images read
The old photo must, ...