ONLY poems listed here or in the current printed anthology are eligible for the 2018-2019 competition.
It is more onerous
than the rites of beauty
or housework, harder than love....
The Ocean has its silent caves,
Deep, quiet, and alone;
Though there be fury on the waves,...
We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers...
Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air, ...
which regenerate their tails
and also eat only the tails of other electric eels,
presumably smaller, who, in turn, eat ... ...
As the tide rises, the closed mollusc
Opens a fraction to the ocean's food,
Bathed in its riches. Do not ask...
as if it were a scene made-up by the mind,
that is not mine, but is a made place,
Often rebuked, yet always back returning
To those first feelings that were born with me,
And leaving busy chase of wealth and learning...
oh antic God
return to me
my mother in her thirties ...
Oh could I raise the darken’d veil,
Which hides my future life from me,
Could unborn ages slowly sail,...
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