Poetry Is A Mock Of A Cry

Poetry Is A Section Of River-fog And Moving Boat-lights, Delivered Between Bridges And Whistles, So One Says, 'oh!' And Another, 'how?'

Alike And Ever Alike, We Are On All Continents In The Need Of Love, Food, Clothing, Work, Speech, Worship, Sleep, Games, Dancing, Fun. From Tropics To Arctics Humanity Live With These Needs So Alike, So Inexorably Alike.

Newspapers Tell Beforehand What Is Going To Happen - Maybe.

Time Is The Coin Of Life. Only You Can Determine How It Will Be Spent.

Calling It Off Comes Easy Enough If You Haven't Told The Girl You Are Smitten With Her.