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Nathaniel A.Wallace
Nathaniel A.Wallace
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Nathaniel A.Wallace poems, quotations and biography on Nathaniel A.Wallace poet page. Read all poems of Nathaniel A.Wallace and infos about Nathaniel A.Wallace.
Hi. Please feel free to enjoy the writing. I received education at UBC, which is like a grammar school, except not. Bit of a homebody. Hope the writing is appreciable, and that you enjoy it! :)
Have a nice day! more »
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Nathaniel A.Wallace Poems
Canvas Paintings
We Rainy Days have a certain charm about us,
Our pitter-patter is like an orchestra
But We have more players, and instruments
And parts.... more »
Fruits Of A First-World Appellation: A Tribute To Heaney And Stevens
Causality invited me casually
To meet the man, but I have no interest
In being made; he chuckled, and asked if I,
Not everywhere, perceiving triumvirates of old,... more »
An Inexplicable Thorn In My Side
I am from the this-a-cup and that-a-cup
Of lemonade and honeydew -
Betwixt the only remaining
Dried flowers of my childhood... more »
Folly Sitting On The Primrose Steps
One cannot help but gazing at the stars
Notice their verisimilitude, their dimness,
Lit through the smog from a distance,
Withstanding sympathy for the other effects of... more »
Bland On Bland: This Author Is Bland
Out on the veranda
Death whispers in my name
Or I to it, see we
Are stark as starch, and deprived... more »
Espy, The Sun Shines; The Day Is Beautiful
I tire,
Like the grains of sand on a beach -
So lulled and at peace,
My lethargy overcomes... more »
Drunk And Courting Oneself On The Moors
I love what I know that I don't know -
‘Tis darkness that gleans us light,
That tree in the distance looks oh so -
Chilled in an autumn sight,... more »
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Comments about Nathaniel A.Wallace
Bland On Bland: This Author Is Bland
Out on the veranda
Death whispers in my name
Or I to it, see we
Are stark as starch, and deprived
Of hints, becoming taking -
Tasteless as clouds;
But because I cannot see myself
In this so-called bust (What is this closure?)
Or making a fuss, with a breath and a cuss - I but feel
Like a sack of nothing in a bag of everything:
My world as a wold on a mound of mold
With algae that grows as verdant as anything.
Do but come,
Yes, pass-her-by; although
The white words worn on my chest
May be palled, and
Pulsing against the effusing ...
