Dailies 4/29/17: on fame, books, children & rabbits, and the heart as a house

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Lex Runciman – The First Owner of This Book Says Its Story 

 

Smaller than an opened hand this little book

war over, paper yet rare dear.

The important word here, over — turn the page.

Read rest of poem 

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Ron Carlson – The Neighborhood So Far

If my heart is a house
then it stands on your street
in the little village
where you are paperboy,

Read rest of poem 

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Helen Hoyt – In the Next Yard

O yes, you are very cunning,
I can see that:
Out there in the snow with your red cart
And your wooly grey coat
And those ridiculous
Little grey leggings!

Read rest of poem 

 

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John Foy – On Fame
     loosely after a poem of the same name by John Keats

 

There she goes, a good-time girl
turning her tan and lovely back
on those who have not learned
to get along without her.

Read rest of poem 

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John Keats – On Fame 

Fame, like a wayward girl, will still be coy
To those who woo her with too slavish knees,
But makes surrender to some thoughtless boy,
And dotes the more upon a heart at ease;
She is a Gypsy,—will not speak to those
Who have not learnt to be content without her;
A Jilt, whose ear was never whispered close,
Who thinks they scandal her who talk about her;
A very Gypsy is she, Nilus-born,
Sister-in-law to jealous Potiphar;
Ye love-sick Bards! repay her scorn for scorn;
Ye Artists lovelorn! madmen that ye are!
Make your best bow to her and bid adieu,
Then, if she likes it, she will follow you.

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