Oh che sanguinosa e spaziosa portaFa l'una e l'altra spada ovunque giugna,Nell'arme e nelle carni! E se la vitaNon esce, sdegno tienla al petto unita.

He drew a circle that shut me out-Heretic , rebel, a thing to flout.But love and I had the wit to win:We drew a circle and took him In !From the poem " Outwitted

I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.

When the music note grows tired we will land on the wings of a guardian - One already accustomed to my attempts to fly One aware of my weakness for a beautiful try

OnceThere was a quiet island,With a name.You must believe me When I say that sunlight, Impure but beautiful, Broke upon the bay, silveredThe unrepentant, burning moon.

Bob's Words:Nobody knows what tomorrow bringsBy loving, giving, caringAnd sharing todayLets one know that if tomorrowDoes not comeToday is a good day to be the last

A litany of headlights blinding her, she stands unsteady on the dotted traffic line, takes timid steps toward rolled up windows behind which any horror could crouch....

All shadows of clouds the sun cannot hide like the moon cannot stop oceanic tide;but a hidden star can still be smiling at night's black spell on darkness, beguiling

It's just me throwing myself at you,romance as usual, us times us,not lust but moxibustion,a substance burning closeto the body as possiblewithout risk of immolation.

If lighthouse becomes a burning candle, flickered upon ocean's insanity.Your sailing heart there anchors to handle the obsessed breeze towards sand dune's vanity.

My life is filled with buckets of tears; thousands of people shouting in my ears; the humming and chirping of hundreds of Himalayan birds, which are irresistible to hear.

Now I lay me down to sleep,I pray the Lord my soul to keep,And if I die before I wake,I pray the Lord my toys will break.So none of the other kids can use 'em....Amen.

I'm a peasantI'm the muzhikA pest you're destined to play the musicAnd yes it's pleasant to say it's beauty I'mIndebted to rest respecting it truly

kau bukan gula-gula kapas,yang bagiku cuma lembut,kau terlahir sebagai popkon,yang rangup dan manis,yang aku nikmati dalam gelap,menghadap pelbagai genre,dilayar panggung.

Every poem is an infant labored into birth and I am drenched with sweating effort, tired from the pain and hurt of being a man, in the poem I transform myself into a woman.