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Paul Warner Poems
The farmers wife
Where is your windmill? Trapped under the millers thumb? Fat and rotund in your simple smock, flour coated arms from kneading bread.
Lies, damn lies and statistics
Four deaths is a drama, one thousand deaths a statistic. look into the panorama, see the logistics.
Le Roi est mort
One king dies, another substitutes, lineage, family tree, monkey nepotism,
Rats run across the floor, Khmer music resounds, the smiles flow free, with echoes that cannot be heard.
All around the world, There were dragons, so we're told Through art and verse.
What is death
Today in my normal ignorance I save a fly. Fell in my beer jug after I wafted my hand. Thought what do I do?
The rice eaters
No potato, no bread, chopsticks click, wok fried pieces,
B-cinquante - deux
Here they come to bomb my carpet! I knew I should have deloused with anti- gook spray, But I don't have the time. Now they're here again!
Work sets you free
Come little children, sit down by me, i'll tell you a tale, of how you'll be.
God was a monkey
What can I say, ever since I left the tree, always looking back and up.
Comments about Paul Warner
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
The farmers wife
Where is your windmill?
Trapped under the millers thumb?
Fat and rotund in your simple smock,
flour coated arms from kneading bread.
Ample busom uddering in the morning light,
the sun rises over the lake,
already reflecting your thoughts.
Broegle - like your day begins.
The warming air echoes the growing stench,
bouncing off my timpani.
The village awakes, children cry, swine herds bellow,
In the golden light.
The frosted grass fades away,
cows snort in a steamy nasal way,
so begins another day.