laurendepolo blogspot.com

Lauren DePolo

Wednesday, May 12, 2010. Creative Writing - Leonard Cohen Modeled Poem. I Heard of a Man by Leonard Cohen. I heard of a man. Who says words so beautifully. That if he only speaks their name. Women give themselves to him. If I am dumb beside your body. While silence blossoms like tumors on our lips. It is because I hear a man climb stairs and clear his throat outside the door. I had met a boy. Who sings those words perfectly. That if he were to mention it. The girls would ask to sing along. Ill be flai.

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jessies spot

Wednesday, May 12, 2010. Time consumes us with fear,. Age is unstoppable and strong,. A soft wrinkle lines your face,. A small trickle runs down from your old eyes,. Age does not care about my feelings,. And the flock of sheep in your dreams slow,. One by one they age and die,. Leaving gaps in your dreams, and in mine,. My dreams, which filled my nights,. And your days burst like rotting carcasses,. The blood will return to the dirt,. And when it does,. The constant raining, longing,. Monday, May 3, 2010.

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Lauren DePolo

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Wednesday, May 12, 2010. Creative Writing - Leonard Cohen Modeled Poem. I Heard of a Man by Leonard Cohen. I heard of a man. Who says words so beautifully. That if he only speaks their name. Women give themselves to him. If I am dumb beside your body. While silence blossoms like tumors on our lips. It is because I hear a man climb stairs and clear his throat outside the door. I had met a boy. Who sings those words perfectly. That if he were to mention it. The girls would ask to sing along. Ill be flai.

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This web page laurendepolo.blogspot.com states the following, "Wednesday, May 12, 2010." We saw that the webpage said " Creative Writing - Leonard Cohen Modeled Poem." It also said " I Heard of a Man by Leonard Cohen. I heard of a man. Who says words so beautifully. That if he only speaks their name. Women give themselves to him. If I am dumb beside your body. While silence blossoms like tumors on our lips. It is because I hear a man climb stairs and clear his throat outside the door. I had met a boy. Who sings those words perfectly. That if he were to mention it. The girls would ask to sing along."

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Weaving Up Poetry

Wednesday, May 12, 2010. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,. And sorry I could not travel both. And be one traveler, long I stood. And looked down one as far as I could. To where it bent in the undergrowth;. Then took the other, as just as fair,. And having perhaps the better claim,. Because it was grassy and wanted wear;. Though as for that the passing there. Had worn them really about the same,. And both that morning equally lay.