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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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Are You The New Person, Drawn Toward Me? By Walt Whitman

Are you the new person drawn toward me?To begin with, take warning–I am surely far different from what you suppose;Do you suppose you will find…

September 27, 2019
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Apostroph By Walt Whitman

O mater! O fils!O brood continental!O flowers of the prairies!O space boundless! O hum of mighty products!O you teeming cities! O so invincible, turbulent, proud!O…

September 27, 2019
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An Old Man’s Thought Of School By Walt Whitman

An old man�s thought of School; An old man, gathering youthful memories and blooms, that youth itself cannot.  Now only do I know you! O fair auroral…

September 27, 2019
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An Army Corps On The March By Walt Whitman

With its cloud of skirmishers in advance,With now the sound of a single shot, snapping like a whip, and now an irregular volley,The swarming ranks…

September 27, 2019
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Among The Multitude By Walt Whitman

Among the men and women, the multitude,I perceive one picking me out by secret and divine signs,Acknowledging none else–not parent, wife, husband, brother, child, any…

September 27, 2019
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American Feuillage By Walt Whitman

America always!Always our own feuillage!Always Florida’s green peninsula! Always the priceless delta of Louisiana! Always the cotton-fields of Alabama and Texas!Always California’s golden hills and…

September 27, 2019
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All Is Truth By Walt Whitman

O me, man of slack faith so long!Standing aloof–denying portions so long;Only aware to-day of compact, all-diffused truth;Discovering to-day there is no lie, or form…

September 27, 2019
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Ah Poverties, Wincings Sulky Retreats By Walt Whitman

Ah poverties, wincings, and sulky retreats!Ah you foes that in conflict have overcome me!(For what is my life, or any man’s life, but a conflict…

September 27, 2019
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Ages And Ages, Returning At Intervals By Walt Whitman

Ages and ages, returning at intervals,Undestroy’d, wandering immortal,Lusty, phallic, with the potent original loins, perfectly sweet,I, chanter of Adamic songs,Through the new garden, the West,…

September 27, 2019
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After The Sea-Ship By Walt Whitman

After the Sea-Ship–after the whistling winds;After the white-gray sails, taut to their spars and ropes,Below, a myriad, myriad waves, hastening, lifting up their necks,Tending in…

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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