Tag: Poetry

Armistice Day

In Flanders Fields By John McCrae In Flanders fields the poppies blowBetween the crosses, row on row,    That mark our place; and in the sky    The larks, still bravely singing, flyScarce heard amid

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A Poem for Labor Day

Brass Spittoons By Langston Hughes Clean the spittoons, boy.      Detroit,      Chicago,      Atlantic City,      Palm Beach.Clean the spittoons.The steam in hotel kitchens,And the smoke in hotel lobbies,And the slime in hotel spittoons:Part of my life.      Hey, boy!      A

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Pentecost

Today we feel the wind beneath our wingsToday  the hidden fountain flows and playsToday the church draws breath at last and singsAs every flame becomes a Tongue of praise.This is

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Ascension

We saw his light break through the cloud of gloryWhilst we were rooted still in time and placeAs earth became a part of Heaven’s storyAnd heaven opened to his human

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Death, Be Not Proud

Death, be not proud, though some have called theeMighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrowDie not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou

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