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Mad for Poetry

The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad for life, mad for talking, mad for poetry.

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Author: Samantha Evans

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Come Up From The Fields, Father By Walt Whitman

Come up from the fields, father, here’s a letter from our Pete;And come to the front door, mother–here’s a letter from thy dear son. Lo,…

September 27, 2019
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City Of Ships By Walt Whitman

City of ships!(O the black ships! O the fierce ships!O the beautiful, sharp-bow’d steam-ships and sail-ships!)City of the world! (for all races are here;All the…

September 27, 2019
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City Of Orgies By Walt Whitman

City of orgies, walks and joys!City whom that I have lived and sung in your midst will one day make you illustrious,Not the pageants of…

September 27, 2019
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Chanting The Square Deific By Walt Whitman

Chanting the square deific, out of the One advancing, out of the sides;Out of the old and new–out of the square entirely divine,Solid, four-sided, (all…

September 27, 2019
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Cavalry Crossing A Ford By Walt Whitman

A line in long array, where they wind betwixt green islands;They take a serpentine course–their arms flash in the sun–Hark to the musical clank;Behold the…

September 27, 2019
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Carol Of Words By Walt Whitman

Earth, round, rolling, compact–suns, moons, animals–all these are words to be said;Watery, vegetable, sauroid advances–beings, premonitions, lispings of the future,Behold! these are vast words to…

September 27, 2019
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Carol Of Occupations By Walt Whitman

Come closer to me;Push close, my lovers, and take the best I possess;Yield closer and closer, and give me the best you possess. This is…

September 27, 2019
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Camps Of Green By Walt Whitman

Not alone those camps of white, O soldiers,When, as order’d forward, after a long march,Footsore and weary, soon as the light lessen’d, we halted for…

September 27, 2019
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By The Bivouac’s Fitful Flame By Walt Whitman

By the bivouac’s fitful flame,A procession winding around me, solemn and sweet and slow;–but first I note,The tents of the sleeping army, the fields’ and…

September 27, 2019
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By Broad Potomac’s Shore By Walt Whitman

By broad Potomac’s shore–again, old tongue!(Still uttering–still ejaculating–canst never cease this babble?)Again, old heart so gay–again to you, your sense, the full flush spring returning;Again…

September 27, 2019

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Mad For Poetry

Mad For Poetry

Poesia Poetry Journal! Have a Read.

  • Issue #1 – Mad for Poetry / Pazzi per la Poesia

Mad for Poetry

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