Poems with rhymes of their

Keeping grim rust, no primal sorrow. The people are
all one people, their

Their faces were not made for wrinkles, their
Pure blood to stagnate, their great hearts to fail;
The blank grey was not made to blast their hair,

With long sticks in their hands and hair all wild about their
heads, they come nearer and nearer.
I shout, "Have a care, you villains! One step more and you are

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here, from parents the same, and their

smart little scarlet or azure hats on their
gray-streaked hair.

Hailropes hustle and grind their
Heavengravel? wolfsnow, worlds of it, wind there?

as alliterations wait for their
turn to go down on slides
while the allegories are

is present women in their
starched headgear are

Some treat you like animals anywhere,
Believe us we sigh and say shame on their.

There were infinite on this gregarious Universe; who relentlessly searched for uninhibited freedom; irrevocably wanting to blend the innermost of their
senses with all vivaciously enchanting titillation in the atmosphere,

From their,
Pretentious persuasion to flaunt with flair!

I sat in grandma's old chair.
But she was not their.

is for the pros who write their
style in prose. My obstacles are

culture and religion shed on me all of their
tears;arti receding to oblivions somewhere

Are doing just fine , Just to find their
Mommy and daddy's killing of there

Yes....This is my "Private Angel" that God gave me to share.
Now she is waiting on the streets of paradise,
For her Mommy to meet her their.

Set out chariots stubborns all their,
So be drowned, a sea all roar there.

radicals claim their
extricated selves are