John Ackerman

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Best Poem of John Ackerman

The Vanishing

Moist, bright, and green, the landscape laughs around.
Full swell the woods; their every music wakes,
Mix'd in wild concert, with the warbling brooks
Increased, the distant bleatings of the hills,
And hollow lows responsive from the vales,
Whence, blending all, the sweeten'd zephyr springs.
Meantime, refracted from yon eastern cloud,
Bestriding earth, the grand ethereal bow
Shoots up immense; and every hue unfolds,
In fair proportion running from the red
To where the violet fades into the sky.
Here, awful Newton, the dissolving clouds
Form, fronting on ...

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Who Farted

Who Farted


it was starting to rain on the night that we first decided
the chance to roll the dice
my birthday cake was ready
so was the famous spaghetti

when all of a sudden someone let out a fart