Morgan Michaels


Morgan Michaels Poems

401. 137 10/18/2012
402. 138 10/19/2012
403. 139 10/19/2012
404. 141 10/20/2012
405. A Visit From Voltaire L 10/20/2012
406. 142 10/22/2012
407. 143 10/22/2012
408. A Sonnet Fashioned Old 11/1/2012
409. 155 11/2/2012
410. 156 11/2/2012
411. 157 11/3/2012
412. 158 11/3/2012
413. 159 11/3/2012
414. 160 11/3/2012
415. 161 11/4/2012
416. 162 11/4/2012
417. 163 11/4/2012
418. 164 11/4/2012
419. Lot 11/4/2012
420. 168 11/5/2012
421. 167 11/5/2012
422. 166 11/6/2012
423. 165 11/6/2012
424. Creationist I 11/7/2012
425. Weather 11/8/2012
426. 170 11/8/2012
427. 171 11/8/2012
428. 172 11/8/2012
429. 174 11/10/2012
430. 175 11/11/2012
431. Bazar 11/11/2012
432. 177 11/11/2012
433. 178 11/11/2012
434. 182 11/11/2012
435. American Literature: Choose One 11/11/2012
436. 180 11/11/2012
437. 176 11/11/2012
438. 181 11/11/2012
439. 179 11/11/2012
440. Harpsong 11/12/2012

Comments about Morgan Michaels

  • Diane Hine Diane Hine (6/12/2014 11:36:00 PM)

    Morgan Michaels' poems are as fine as Leonardo's sketches.

    4 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Megan Russell (12/20/2012 11:30:00 AM)

    Can you do me a favor and let me know what you think about my second poem 'Untitled.' I am new to writting poetry and Im curious to know what you think.

  • Filippo Stella Filippo Stella (11/4/2012 8:20:00 AM)

    I prefer to read 50 poems like these, than one only poem of 50 lines

    well, it will take at least 1 week to read all
    anyway, I did it with E.D., I can do it also with M.M.
    =)

Best Poem of Morgan Michaels

Under Heavan

Clouds under heaven fly
Winds over meadow hie
Through kept field and forest wild
Rambles my motherless child.

Leaves along the alley fly
Over the valley ravens cry
Higher than the mountain lies
The land of the heart's desire.


Hesse

Read the full of Under Heavan

Uprisings

Up slides the blind and out of remotest heaven
from a perlmutter sky
falls the pure, the Brownian, upward drifting snow
casually but surely, in high-blown whorls;
on the rail has settled a bluish inch.
'It's cold', croaks the bird, on yellow, thin legs,

so I rise. Snow fills last years rifts and sifts
on sticks and galls and nodes of last years'

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