vintage

Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.

The Trip Home was Cooler
Crammed in the car, cross country. Mom, me, and two bossy brothers. From Florida to California for a wedding- hell on wheels, quite literally.
By Katie L. Oswald (BookDragon)5 years ago in Poets
Ancient Mariner Retold
I searched amongst the weary eyed people, all looking for solace from their own dreadful lives in the joining of two others in matrimony. I never understood the emptiness I witnessed in the onlookers faces, I thought it was joy they should be feeling yet I swore I saw jealousy. But that was not my purpose here.
By Obsidian Words5 years ago in Poets
shed
the destroyed work of former summers clutters the dark shed with the smell of gasoline and vegetation cut like interrupted fingers.
By Thomas Mattson5 years ago in Poets
Summer Love
Thou I decline thee to a weekend away. Nor shall I miss sunshine and heat on thy water: Sail far for tomorrow and today, as it burns hotter and hotter: Soon the sun shall shine down upon all, And often lost in the enjoyment seen; And every wave be short a downfall, By choice where out thy been;
By Jon Perrin5 years ago in Poets
Riding the Waves
Soft sandy beaches, by sparkling waters, calls us away as the sailors of old. Beguiling, both your sons and your daughters,
By Denise Brandell Mastrocola5 years ago in Poets
Summer Sonnet II
It was the fourth of June, summer soon here. The farm house rattled from winds yet unknown. Just home from the pub, and filled up with beer,
By John Oliver Smith5 years ago in Poets
Summer Sonnet I
Snows of winter melt always into spring, Income tax returns in C-R-A hands. First a crow arrives, then a robin sings
By John Oliver Smith5 years ago in Poets
Summer Waves
A pool! A pool! the cousins all proclaimed with eager, longing joy that broke the ice of years apart, so shy, and words constrained,
By Maria Shimizu Christensen5 years ago in Poets
A Peter Frampton Summer Day
A Peter Frampton Summer Day By Donna Magnani-Convertino ’Twas a day so far away Though I vividly remember when- The phonograph spun repeatedly
By Donna Magnani-Convertino5 years ago in Poets
The Dirt and Grime on the Big Apple
NYC in the 70’s. What a time it must have been. Warhol, Steely Dan, CBGB’s the bohemian mixed with the bourgeoisie. Enough money to rent a Leer jet on the
By Steve B Howard5 years ago in Poets
Thank You
Thank you Just so you know you weren’t a big mistake But you weren’t like other friends The chemicals of brain and heart
By Gillian Lesley Scott5 years ago in Poets
A World Nonexistent
Who ever said Reading did not control emotions Always buying one more Even if you have a pile of unread lighter pieces
By Victorian Black 5 years ago in Poets