vintage

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

Arthur Rimbaud: "Being Beauteous" (1886)
Against the fallen snow, an incarnation of beauty stands tall. The hissing of death, and the muted rounds of music make to ascend, like a risen ghost, the trembling, the cherished form. Wounds of scarlet and black erupt across the surface of the superb skin. All the proper colors of life darken and deepen, clear and break free, circling about as the vision is constructed.
By Tom Baker6 years ago in Poets
Arthur Rimbaud: 'Fairy' and 'Democracy' (1886)
Fairy For Helen, the ornamental saps conspired, in the virgin shadows and the impassible clarity of the astral silence. The ardor of summer confided in the noiseless birds, and the requisite indolence of a ship in mourning, without expense, literally priceless, sailed through gulfs of dead loves and fallen fragrances.
By Tom Baker6 years ago in Poets
= Milotopa =
Mother of all children ( μητέρα όλων των παιδιών ) mitéra ólon ton paidión = Milotopa = Vanesea Alexander A mortal without morals ,
By Vanesea A6 years ago in Poets
Arthur Rimbaud:"Royalty" and "Marine" (1886)
Royalty One lovely morning, in a country among those people known to be gentle, a superb man and a woman cried aloud in the public square:
By Tom Baker6 years ago in Poets
Arthur Rimbaud: "Back When" (1886)
Formerly, assuming I remember correctly, my life was a banquet, wherein all hearts were open, and all wines flowed. One night, I sat beauty on my lap.—And I found her to be bitter.—And I hurled abuse at her.
By Tom Baker6 years ago in Poets
The Suitcase
I pondered as I always did on the 'used to' people who lived here once. * The dusty, dirt-laden suitcase belonged to a man.
By Bugsy Watts6 years ago in Poets
Arthur Rimbaud: "To a Reason" and "Lives" (1886)
To a Reason A tap of your finger on the drum releases all the sounds, begins a new harmony. A footstep of yours, the progression of New Men and their forward march.
By Tom Baker6 years ago in Poets
Arthur Rimbaud: "Antique" and "Winter Festival" (1886)
Antique Gracious progeny of Pan! You've a head crowned with flowerlets, and laurel wreaths above those precious orbs, your eyes!
By Tom Baker6 years ago in Poets
Poems of Lost Love
Lost love is a popular topic in art and literature as it is something nearly every person can relate with. The post WWI poem by Edna Vincent Millay, “What Lips My Lips Have Kissed and Where and Why,” is a poem about lost love in which the persona grieves for her love whom she lost in the war. “Thank u, next” is a recent hit song by Arianna Grande about her gratitude towards her past loves. “What Lips My Lips Have Kissed and Where and Why” and “thank u, next” are both pieces that deal with realistic perspectives of lost love in different, yet effective ways, each using unique form and style from the other.
By Anisah Egely6 years ago in Poets
Arthur Rimbaud: "War" and "Departure" (1886)
War Child, certain weather refined my vision: all its aspects shaded my face. The Phenomena were awakened.—Presently, the eternal modulation of moments and the boundlessness of mathematics chase me through this world, where I undergo all the victories of civil life, respected by strange children with enormous affection. —I long for a war of Might Makes Right, of unforseen logic.
By Tom Baker6 years ago in Poets
Arthur Rimbaud: "H" (1886)
All the enormous, violent and atrocious gestures of Hortense are violated. Her solitude is the mechanism of her eroticism; her lassitude an amorous dynamic. Beneath the watchful eye of the child, there is her, and her summer; in numerous eras, she has been the ardent purifier of races. Her portal is always flung wide for every sorrow. In that place, the morality of the living is released bodily by her passionate acts. Oh—terrible shiver of new loves on the blood-soaked grounds—Find Hortence.
By Tom Baker6 years ago in Poets
Rainbow Sledge
After the fallout of a salty course it was waiting on a shelf and I was by myself. I am waiting for the edge of tomorrow. She came into the picture after having a beautiful eclipse on her face. Lots of interesting drops at a new day.
By Paul Noel Cimino6 years ago in Poets