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The authors of poetry and other material appearing on DayPoems retain full rights to their work. Asia makes a blog and no one reads it, does it really exist?" , miniature, minimalist-inspired sculptures created from industrial cereamics, an art project at Lewis and Clark College in Portland, Oregon. This is the source of the first poetry placed on DayPoems. My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or shout joyously from the deck.

Let it all out! Comment on this poem, any poem, DayPoems, other poetry places or the art of poetry at The DayPoems web site, www. Any requests for publication in other venues must be negotiated separately with the authors. Not a cholera patient lies at the last gasp but I also lie at the last gasp, The grave of rock multiplies what has been confided to it, or to any graves, Noiselessly passing handfuls out of their hearts and giving them to be mine. The beards of the young men glisten'd with wet, it ran from their long hair, Out from the crowd steps the marksman, takes his position, levels his piece; The old husband sleeps by his wife and the young husband sleeps by his wife; My knowledge my live parts, it keeping tally with the meaning of all things, Walking the path worn in the grass and beat through the leaves of the brush, Pleas'd with the quakeress as she puts off her bonnet and talks melodiously, Solitary at midnight in my back yard, my thoughts gone from me a long while, One of the pumps has been shot away, it is generally thought we are sinking. The editor of DayPoems will gladly assist in putting interested parties in contact with the authors. Myself by Walt Whitman Click to submit poems to DayPoems, comment on DayPoems or a poem within, comment on other poetry sites, update links, or simply get in touch. He that by me spreads a wider breast than my own proves the width of my own, If you are like us, you have strong feelings about poetry, and about each poem you read. Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean, Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.

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Archives and past articles from the Philadelphia Inquirer, Philadelphia Daily News, and Philly.com.

This is the source of the first poetry placed on DayPoems. Let it all out! Comment on this poem, any poem, DayPoems, other poetry places or the art of poetry at The DayPoems web site, www. Myself by Walt Whitman Click to submit poems to DayPoems, comment on DayPoems or a poem within, comment on other poetry sites, update links, or simply get in touch. The beards of the young men glisten'd with wet, it ran from their long hair, Out from the crowd steps the marksman, takes his position, levels his piece; The old husband sleeps by his wife and the young husband sleeps by his wife; My knowledge my live parts, it keeping tally with the meaning of all things, Walking the path worn in the grass and beat through the leaves of the brush, Pleas'd with the quakeress as she puts off her bonnet and talks melodiously, Solitary at midnight in my back yard, my thoughts gone from me a long while, One of the pumps has been shot away, it is generally thought we are sinking.

The editor of DayPoems will gladly assist in putting interested parties in contact with the authors. Any requests for publication in other venues must be negotiated separately with the authors. The authors of poetry and other material appearing on DayPoems retain full rights to their work. He that by me spreads a wider breast than my own proves the width of my own, If you are like us, you have strong feelings about poetry, and about each poem you read. Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean, Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation. My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or shout joyously from the deck. Not a cholera patient lies at the last gasp but I also lie at the last gasp, The grave of rock multiplies what has been confided to it, or to any graves, Noiselessly passing handfuls out of their hearts and giving them to be mine. Asia makes a blog and no one reads it, does it really exist?" , miniature, minimalist-inspired sculptures created from industrial cereamics, an art project at Lewis and Clark College in Portland, Oregon.

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