John May

Rookie - 3 Points (June 24th,1971 / New Jersey)

John May Poems

41. Blame Her Not 9/26/2012
42. A Stoic Found 9/26/2012
43. Narcissus 9/26/2012
44. My Daughter's Voice 9/26/2012
45. A Monk's Refrain 9/26/2012
46. City Naiad 9/26/2012
47. Sojourn 9/26/2012
48. Lethe (A Broken Sonnet) 9/26/2012
49. Monarch 9/26/2012
50. A Memory Of Delta D.O.C. 9/26/2012
51. Thou Mortal Thread 9/26/2012
52. Keep Me In Thee 9/26/2012
53. Elhanan 9/26/2012
54. When Last My Heart Gives Way 9/26/2012
55. 'Til Jesus Leads 9/26/2012
56. Pontius 9/26/2012
57. Italian Quatrain 9/26/2012
58. World Within 9/26/2012
59. Hilltop Chapel 9/26/2012
60. Let Us Revel 12/14/2012
61. A Dawning Of Dying 2/25/2013
62. The Spires 3/12/2013
63. Jack The Ripper 3/3/2014
64. Morning Rainfall 4/13/2014
65. Source And Seasons 9/26/2012
66. That Amber Sun 9/26/2012
67. The Witch Of Aberdeen 9/26/2012
68. Said The Crow 9/26/2012
69. Dia De Los Muertos 9/26/2012
70. Does A Pure Heart A Better Poet Make 9/26/2012
71. The Kingbird's Omen 9/26/2012
72. The Cold 9/26/2012
73. After Harvesting 9/26/2012
74. The Nihilist 9/26/2012
75. Love's End 9/26/2012
76. Those Evil Few 9/26/2012
77. When Children Die 9/26/2012
78. Beneath A Starry Gaze 9/26/2012
79. Memphis 9/26/2012
80. On The Brink 9/26/2012

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Best Poem of John May

Spring

Because the morning sun is gold
Because the smell of loam is bold
Because there's warmth within the cold
I know that I am Spring

Because the aspen boasts her leaves
Because upon me warm air cleaves
Because the red squirrel ‘round me weaves
I know that I am Spring

Because the zenith sun's aflame
Because the lake is clear and tame
Because the larkspur knows my name
I know that I am Spring

Because the crows above have scoffed
Because the dragonfly's aloft
Because the mossy rocks are soft
I know that I am Spring

Because the twilight ...

Read the full of Spring

When Children Die

When children die what grief is more
What sorrow measurable compares
So deep the pain that cuts us through
It changes everything we view
The golden sun has oft grown pale
And weary since their slumber came
The roses, hueless, bring no glee
When all we want is them to see

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