English | Spanish | French | German | Portuguese| Italian

romantic poem

a mulher faltou-me muito, como você se chama me, chamada
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
eu ouvi-os na noite
quem ama a chuva
nunca em toda minha vida
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
temos nós nenhum shame?
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
para vir assim logo a isto imaginou a obscuridade

 



Poetry news via Google, MSN, and Yahoo!

  • Could she save the short story? - Times Online
  • Jazz on the weekends - Malaysia Star
  • The revival in Britain's stately homes - Times Online
  • Young writers inspired by island culture - Virgin Islands Daily News
  • They're young, but 'Old' at heart - Schenectady Gazette
  • Andrew Davidson's $5-million voyage - Globe and Mail
  • Harvey Dent: Aaron Eckhart - Chicago Sun-Times
  • Wednesday, July 30 - Advocate Weekly
  • Quality Matters Toolkit: Youth Voice and Engagement - Youth Today
  • This year’s favorites will help fill long summer days - Columbia Daily Tribune
  • Robert X. Cringely - Wired
  • Group Returns from British Isles Trip By Suzanne Camp - Wakulla.com
  • Daniel Radcliffe: ‘You Can’t Possibly Imagine What It’s Like To ... - Access Hollywood
  • Authors at literary festival - Beverley Guardian
  • Dearborn Recreation Department announces summer of cultural events 07/09/08 (Dearborn Press & Guide)
 

Refinance Mortgage

California Mortgage

October 2007 Mortgage News

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