Morgan Michaels
Morgan Michaels Poems
201. | An Intruder 3 | 6/24/2012 |
202. | An Intruder 4 | 6/25/2012 |
203. | An Intruder 5 | 6/25/2012 |
204. | Love | 6/25/2012 |
205. | My Love For You | 6/25/2012 |
206. | Perugino | 7/9/2012 |
207. | From Marian | 7/12/2012 |
208. | Life | 7/12/2012 |
209. | Fifty Years On: For Bastille Day | 7/14/2012 |
210. | Fifty Years On: For Bastille Day 2 | 7/14/2012 |
211. | Fifty Years On: For Bastille Day 3 | 7/14/2012 |
212. | Haiku102 | 7/15/2012 |
213. | Haiku103 | 7/16/2012 |
214. | Valse | 7/17/2012 |
215. | Tinos | 7/17/2012 |
216. | Commonly | 7/17/2012 |
217. | Diotima 2 Part One | 7/19/2012 |
218. | Haiku104 | 7/20/2012 |
219. | The Plants | 7/20/2012 |
220. | Haiku105 | 7/21/2012 |
221. | Remembering Christmas | 7/22/2012 |
222. | Remembering Christmas 2 | 7/22/2012 |
223. | Age: A Near-Haiku | 7/25/2012 |
224. | Irony | 7/25/2012 |
225. | Illusions | 7/25/2012 |
226. | Almost An Epitaph | 7/26/2012 |
227. | Almost An Epitaph 2 | 7/26/2012 |
228. | Almost An Epitaph 3 | 7/26/2012 |
229. | Love And Need | 7/26/2012 |
230. | Sonnetx | 7/27/2012 |
231. | Melai | 7/27/2012 |
232. | Haiku106 | 7/27/2012 |
233. | Almost An Epitaph 4 | 7/28/2012 |
234. | Almost An Epitaph 5 | 7/28/2012 |
235. | Almost An Epitaph 6 | 7/28/2012 |
236. | Almost An Epitaph 7 | 7/28/2012 |
237. | A Jeremiad | 7/29/2012 |
238. | In The Museum 2 | 7/31/2012 |
239. | Haiku109 | 7/31/2012 |
240. | Haiku110 | 7/31/2012 |
Comments about Morgan Michaels
I Wish I Were Young, Again
I wish I were young again
with lotteries to win
when it was always Spring
and I could smell the exhaust
and hear the mower slay the grass
as I lay drowsing, the sound
borne in by the breeze that under the window
came chiding ''up, you scow,
there is nothing to do but everything
and time to do it, now'.
and, turning, exited
the way it came in, in.
I wish I was a kid again
my first kiss still eons off
little knowing yet
from whence it t'would come, or where;
unsure it would please, or how;
or if, when it finally came
would it linger or...
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'
Morgan Michaels' poems are as fine as Leonardo's sketches.
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.
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.
=)