St. John’s Singing. - Poem by Liza Sud
With pleasure I hear only St. John’s singing.
And books only with yats I love to choose,
I hate only the idle and scapegoats,
Although sometimes sin in both too.
I’m tired of creating at my workplace,
To pray here and the poems to write,
As if I were a goat in enclosure,
But if I go –I will receive otitis.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You