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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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Gliding O’er All By Walt Whitman

Gliding o’er all, through all,Through Nature, Time, and Space,As a ship on the waters advancing,The voyage of the soul – not life alone,Death, many deaths…

September 27, 2019
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Give Me The Splendid, Silent Sun By Walt Whitman

Give me the splendid silent sun, with all his beams full-dazzling;Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orchard;Give me a field where…

September 27, 2019
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Germs By Walt Whitman

Forms, qualities, lives, humanity, language, thoughts,The ones known, and the ones unknown – the ones on the stars,The stars themselves, some shaped, others unshaped,Wonders as…

September 27, 2019
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Full Of Life, Now By Walt Whitman

Full of life, now, compact, visible,I, forty years old the Eighty-third Year of The States,To one a century hence, or any number of centuries hence,To…

September 27, 2019
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From Pent-Up Aching Rivers By Walt Whitman

From pent-up, aching rivers;From that of myself, without which I were nothing;From what I am determin’d to make illustrious, even if I stand sole among…

September 27, 2019
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From Paumanok Starting By Walt Whitman

From Paumanock starting, I fly like a bird,Around and around to soar, to sing the idea of all;To the north betaking myself, to sing there…

September 27, 2019
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From My Last Years By Walt Whitman

From my last years, last thoughts I here bequeath,Scatter’d and dropt, in seeds, and wafted to the West,Through moisture of Ohio, prairie soil of Illinois–through…

September 27, 2019
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From Far Dakota’s Canons By Walt Whitman

From far Dakota’s ca�ons,Lands of the wild ravine, the dusky Sioux, the lonesome stretch, the silence,Haply to-day a mournful wail, haply a trumpet-note for heroes….

September 27, 2019
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France, The 18th Year Of These States By Walt Whitman

A great year and place;A harsh, discordant, natal scream out-sounding, to touch the mother’s heart closer than any yet. I walk’d the shores of my…

September 27, 2019
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For Him I Sing By Walt Whitman

For him I sing,I raise the Present on the Past,(As some perennial tree, out of its roots, the present on the past:)With time and space…

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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