Skip to main content Help Control Panel

Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in Dregs & Other Unreadables

Poetry is a dead baby.

Poetry is a dead baby.
lost before it's born
Poetry is an autumn wind
blowing gently through the corn.


Poetry is dead, baby
but the poets keep on living
Poetry is a winter snow
and the poets are there shiv'ring


Poetry is a dead baby.
alive in the hearts of its parents
Poetry is a spring dawn
waiting for time to make it apparent
Share
* Invite participants
* Share at Facebook
* Share at Twitter
* Share at LinkedIn
* Reference this page
Monitor
Recent files
Member Pages »
See also