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    Wednesday, October 22, 2003

    SLAMMIN'
    This morn's slam poems by Edgar Allan Poe:
    I stand amid the roar
    Of a surf-tormented shore,
    And I hold within my hand
    Grains of the golden sand-
    How few! yet how they creep
    Through my fingers to the deep
    .........from Dream Within a Dream

    Dim vales- and shadowy floods-
    And cloudy-looking woods,
    Whose forms we can't discover
    For the tears that drip all over!
    Huge moons there wax and wane-
    Again- again- again-
    Every moment of the night-
    Forever changing places-
    And they put out the star-light
    With the breath from their pale faces.
    ........from Fairy-Land

    For more fun poetry go to OldPoetry.com.