Bath By Amy Lowell - Giggle Poems
The sunshine pours in at the bath-room window and bores through the water in the bath-tub in lathes and planes of greenish-white. Little spots of suns...
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Lilacs By Amy Lowell - Giggle Poems
Lilacs, False blue, White, Purple, Color of lilac, Your great puffs of flowers Are everywhere in this my New England. Lilacs, False blue, White, Purpl...
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After Tonight By Gary Soto - Giggle Poems
Because there are avenues Of traffic lights, a phone book Of brothers and lawyers, Why should you think your purse Will not be tugged from your arm Or...
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September, 1918 By Amy Lowell - Giggle Poems
This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight; The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves; The sidewalks shone like alleys of d...
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Penumbra By Amy Lowell - Giggle Poems
As I sit here in the quiet Summer night, Suddenly, from the distant road, there comes The grind and rush of an electric car. Sitting here in the Summe...
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Thompson’s Lunch Room—Grand Central Station By Amy Lowell - Giggle Poems
The big room is coloured like the petals Of a great magnolia, And has a patina Of flower bloom Which makes it shine dimly Under the electric lamps. Th...
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Patterns By Amy Lowell - Giggle Poems
I walk down the garden paths, And all the daffodils Are blowing, and the bright blue squills. I walk down the patterned garden paths In my stiff, broc...
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The Elements of San Joaquin By Gary Soto - Giggle Poems
Field The wind sprays pale dirt into my mouth The small, almost invisible scars On my hands. Wind A dry wind over the valley Peeled mountains, grain b...
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The Blue Scarf By Amy Lowell - Giggle Poems
The west wind has lifted a scarf On the seat close beside me; the blue of it is a violent outrage of colour. Her kisses are sharp buds of fire; and I ...
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The Taxi By Amy Lowell - Giggle Poems
When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum. I call out for you against the jutted stars And shout into the ridges of the wind....
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In a Garden By Amy Lowell - Giggle Poems
Gushing from the mouths of stone men To spread at ease under the sky In granite-lipped basins, Where iris dabble their feet And rustle to a passing wi...
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The Pond By Amy Lowell - Giggle Poems
Cold, wet leaves Floating on moss-coloured water??? And the croaking of frogs— Cracked bell-notes in the twilight. ?
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