English | Spanish | French | German | Portuguese| Italian | Romanian

sad love poem

a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
a mulher faltou-me muito, como você se chama me, chamada
o que era ele os motores ditos
uplifting, como o vento fundiu
eu encho este copo
eu v todas as sagacidades humanas
pensamentos através de minha cabeça
escute
eu não posso dizê-lo agora
prazeres mid e palácios embora nós podemos vaguear
sad são que sabem não o amor
para então without
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
renove a visão do prazer

 



Poetry news via Google, MSN, and Yahoo!

  • Memories of the Great War - This is Dorset
  • Iranian music ensemble performs in London - IranMania News
  • Authors to make week-long visit - Danville News
  • Short Subjects - Martha's Vineyard Times
  • SetonnoteS: Man Oh Man - OpEdNews
  • Rafael Chacón’s definitive biography of unsung architect AJ Gibson. - New West
  • Allied Arts’ monthly Poetry Open Mike Night series begins this ... - Yakima Herald Republic
  • Power in the Voice grand finale on - Mmegi Online
  • “If we become independent thinkers, we can make a contribution†- alt.muslim
  • Finding challenge in verse - Caulfield Glen Eira Leader
  • Rustlers do a little 'clubbing' - Great Falls Tribune
  • Flat Lake Literary & Arts Festival, Clones, Co. Monaghan, Ireland (Independent)
  • Sports stars should prove they are not - The Island (subscription)
  • Musharraf's turbulent 9 years in power (AP via Yahoo! Singapore News)
  • Poetry contest announced (Moorpark Acorn)
 

Thinking about Refinancing Mortgage?

Second Mortgage

Free Simple Mortgage Calculator

Poetry | Home | Contact Us | Educational Resources | Vote For This Poem | Visitor Favorites

Summer School Help Beginner Math Physics Primer Chemistry Primer Intro Psychology English Primer
Intro Grammar Beginner Writing American History American Civil War Intro Biology Composition Help


Check out El-Grande Web Directory today!


www.endlesspoetry.com ©Copyright 2004 - 2007 Michael VanDeMar All Rights Reserved