When The Frost Is On The Punkin
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey cock
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence
O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock
They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees
But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.
The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries kindo' lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below the clover over-head!
O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!
Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;
And your cider-makin' 's over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With their mince and apple butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too!
I don't know how to tell it but ef sich a thing could be
As the Angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me
I'd want to 'commodate 'em all the whole-indurin' flock
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Related quotes
Unriled Joy after James Whitcomb RILEY When the Frost is on the Punkin
Unriled Joy
When the current links computer screen to internet online,
when the 'Royal Crown' is fairly set upon fair features fine,
Then her sweetness sempiternal needs no coffee to invent
pure parody from paradise, no syllables misspent.
Far from ice and snow know Florida is haven of the Gods -
It even switched Obama which upset some Harris clods,
and all praise her peerless poems their true laurel leaves assign
When the current links computer screen to internet online.
4 January 2009
after When the Frost is on the Punkin James Whitcomb RILEY 1849_1916
and My Life of Riley Joy BURKI-WATSON 1950_20xx
When the Frost is on the Punkin
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock,
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens,
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best,
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bare-headed, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.
They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here —
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees;
But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock —
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.
The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries — kindo' lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below — the clover overhead! —
O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!
Then your apples all is getherd, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the cellar-floor in red and yeller heaps;
And your cider-makin's over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse saussage, too! ...
I don't know how to tell it — but ef sich a thing could be
As the Angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on ME —
I'd want to 'commodate 'em — all the whole-indurin' flock —
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!
James Whitcomb RILEY 1849_1916
RILEY James Whitcomb 1849_1916 rile1_0004 PXX_NXX When the Frost is on the Punkin_When the Frost is on the Punkin
My Life of Riley
When the beads form on my forehead, ‘fore the sun displays its face,
I am adding cubes to coffee as I dream of breathing space.
‘Cause I know I’m in the tropics and it’s time to plan my day,
‘Fore the sun gets any hotter, with its radiant display.
There is somethin’ quite instinctive ‘bout the way I just accept
How my mind slips quick to thinkin’ ’bout that place that’s cool and wet.
It’s a Southern sort-of posture that is met with Southern grace,
When the beads form on my forehead, ‘fore the sun displays its face.
There’s a beach that’s surely waitin’ with white sand and standin’ seas,
Where the wind is surely playin’ in the arms of swayin’ trees.
So I’m packin’ up my cooler, with six-packs of Royal Crown
Stackin’ up the bread with fixins’, then I’m icin’ them all down.
Grab my beach bag from the table, where it parks right handily
Grab a towel, and grab some lotion - don’t forget the MP 3.
I can leave behind my troubles - send my frown to outer space,
When the beads form on my forehead, ‘fore the sun displays its face.
There is somethin’ kinda steamy ‘bout the weather we have here,
Not exactly like a sauna - ‘cause it’s saltier than there.
All the orange trees seem to love it as do lemons and key limes,
And the many bloomin’ flowers - Spanish moss and clingin’ vines.
At the beach the coolin’ breezes tease my senses all day long,
While I sit ‘neath my umbrella with my too-cool Raybans on.
I can dream that I am sailin’, leave behind that old home place,
When the beads form on my forehead, ‘fore the sun displays its face.
There’s no point in belly achin’ ‘bout the rain that’s overdue
I just wipe my brow and ponder all that Northern folks go through.
They’re shovelin’ snow and scrapin’ ice - and a’missin’ all this bliss
Where warmin’ winds kiss cooler seas, there is naught to find amiss.
I can think of nothin’ finer than the joy of surf and sand,
All my senses stand elated - sated by this promised land.
Florida the land of sunshine - holds me in its warm embrace,
When the beads form on my forehead, ‘fore the sun displays its face.
http: //allpoetry.com/poem/4891765
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Thoughts Fer The Discuraged Farmer
The summer winds is sniffin' round the bloomin'
locus' trees;
And the clover in the pastur is a big day fer the bees,
And they been a-swiggin' honey, above board and on the
sly,
Tel they stutter in theyr buzzin' and stagger as they fly.
The flicker on the fence-rail 'pears to jest spit on his
wings
And roll up his feathers, by the sassy way he sings;
And the hoss-fly is a-whettin'-up his forelegs fer biz,
And the off-mare is a-switchin' all of her tale they is.
You can hear the blackbirds jawin' as they foller up the
plow--
Oh, theyr bound to git theyr brekfast, and theyr not
a-carin' how;
So they quarrel in the furries, and they quarrel on the
wing--
But theyr peaceabler in pot-pies than any other thing:
And it's when I git my shotgun drawed up in stiddy rest,
She's as full of tribbelation as a yeller-jacket's nest;
And a few shots before dinner, when the sun's a-shinin'
right,
Seems to kindo'-sorto' sharpen up a feller's appetite!
They's been a heap o' rain, but the sun's out to-day,
And the clouds of the wet spell is all cleared away,
And the woods is all the greener, and the grass is greener
still;
It may rain again to-morry, but I don't think it will.
Some says the crops is ruined, and the corn's drownded
out,
And propha-sy the wheat will be a failure, without doubt;
But the kind Providence that has never failed us yet,
Will be on hands onc't more at the 'leventh hour, I bet!
Does the medder-lark complane, as he swims high and
dry
Through the waves of the wind and the blue of the sky?
Does the quail set up and whissel in a disappinted way,
Er hang his head in silunce, and sorrow all the day?
Is the chipmuck's health a-failin'?--Does he walk, er does
he run?
Don't the buzzards ooze around up thare just like they've
allus done?
Is they anything the matter with the rooster's lungs er
voice?
Ort a mortul be complainin' when dumb animals rejoice?
Then let us, one and all, be contentud with our lot;
The June is here this morning, and the sun is shining hot.
Oh! let us fill our harts up with the glory of the day,
And banish ev'ry doubt and care and sorrow fur away!
Whatever be our station, with Providence fer guide,
Sich fine circumstances ort to make us satisfied;
Fer the world is full of roses, and the roses full of dew,
And the dew is full of heavenly love that drips fer me
and you.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The cowherd who has fodder has bread, and if he doesn't have fodder then he ends up without oxen and without bread.
Shock Me
Your lightnins all I need
My satisfaction grows
You make me feel at ease
You even make me glow
Dont cut the power on me
Im feelin low, so get me high
Shock me, make me feel better
Shock me, put on your black leather
Shock me, we can come together
And baby, if you do what youve been told
My insulations gone, girl you make me overload
Dont pull the plug on me, no, no
Keep it in and keep me high
Shock me, make me feel better
Shock me, put on your black leather
Shock me, we can come together
Come on
Shock me, baby, shock me, oh yeah
Shock me, baby, shock me, oh yeah
Shock me, make me feel better, oh yeah
Come on and shock me, put on your black leather
Baby, Im down to the bare wire
Shock me, we can come together
Oh yeah, I wanna feel your power
Shock me, make me feel better
Baby, Im down to the bare wire
Shock me, put on your black leather
Baby, come on, come on, shock me
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Killing Frost
There is an enchantment in the Killing Frost
It's the most magical night of the year
When the abundant blooms of Summer
Are put to sleep by Frost's frozen tears.
The Killing Frost arrives here silently
Flying in ahead of Winter's incoming wrath
Covering all things that are of the earth
Putting to sleep all flora in her path.
As the late Autumn sun sinks below the horizon
On this Special Night of the year
Plants which were all alive this past morn will be no more
It's time to make way for Winter's Cheer.
Everything Frost kisses will be put to eternal repose
Adorned by Frost's magical breath during the night
All will be dripping in Diamonds in the Morn
With which to dazzle by soft Morning's light.
Winter will be arriving shortly now
And Frost will take her leave
To make way for fluttering snowflakes
Which will come to dance during the long Winter's Eve.
poem by Christine A Kysely (29 December 2010)
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In an Old Barn
Tons upon tons the brown-green fragrant hay
O'erbrims the mows beyond the time-warped eaves,
Up to the rafters where the spider weaves,
Though few flies wander his secluded way.
Through a high chink one lonely golden ray,
Wherein the dust is dancing, slants unstirred.
In the dry hush some rustlings light are heard,
Of winter-hidden mice at furtive play.
Far down, the cattle in their shadowed stalls,
Nose-deep in clover fodder's meadowy scent,
Forget the snows that whelm their pasture streams,
The frost that bites the world beyond their walls.
Warm housed, they dream of summer, well content
In day-long contemplation of their dreams.
poem by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
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Shock The Monkey
Shock the monkey to life
Shock the monkey to life
Cover me when I run
Cover me through the fire
Something knocked me out the trees
Now Im on my knees
Cover me, darling please
Monkey, monkey, monkey
Dont you know when youre going to shock the monkey
Fox the fox
Rat the rat
You can ape the ape
I know about that
There is one thing you must be sure of
I cant take any more
Darling, dont you monkey with the monkey
Monkey, monkey, monkey
Dont you know youre going to shock the monkey
Wheels keep turning
Somethings burning
Dont like it but I guess Im learning
Shock! - watch the monkey get hurt, monkey
Cover me, when I sleep
Cover me, when I breathe
You throw your pearls before the swine
Make the monkey blind
Cover me, darling please
Monkey, monkey, monkey
Dont you know youre going to shock the monkey
Too much at stake
Ground beneath me shake
And the news is breaking
Shock! - watch the monkey get hurt, monkey
Shock the monkey
Shock the monkey
Shock the monkey to life
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Frosted Glass
Frost flowers on my windowpane.
Jack Frost has visited again.
I always know when he's been here.
Because pretty patterns appear
As if by magic overnight.
A tracery of sparkling white.
A sight that sure to satisfy.
The most discerning artist's eye.
It's beautiful though transient.
Frost paintings can't be permanent.
It will last for an hour or two.
Before it melts as it's sure to.
Frost flowers bloom beneath the moon.
‘til morning comes alas too soon.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Frost
Frost covers fallen bridges,
As it does the ones that stand.
The whiteness settles overywhere.
It's gone when I touch your hand.
The morning is when we see the frost,
Yet we know it came the night before.
I've been awake, still it has come;
Quiet and cold to our locked door.
We have watched frost go.
Have you ever seen it start,
As it wanders up the gulch
And slinks into our hearts?
Then there's always morninig,
Or you suppose ther'll always be.
The sun the frost is melting
As we go on, you and me.
We need to talk more when it's forming,
Not just be glad when it's gone,
For, unlike flowers, we seen to wither,
Warmed only by the dawn.
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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from C.A.
bloomingbirds fall from this tree
where flower seasons pass
sweetlip & petalwing now
slain upon the grass
frost & glass
frost & broken glass
barefoot on the splinters of your heart
of frost & glass
loveblind & rippingyarns
a-slither on the vine
Snowking, with your thorny eyes
my happiness conspires
frost & glass
frost & broken glass
barefoot on the splinters of your heart
of frost & glass
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Shock To My System
So there I stood, square on my side of the great divide
A message came across a void
And for the first time in my life
Im awake, Im alive
I thought I was immune to this
til I felt the static charges in the air
I touch you, youre a live wire
Youre the raw fire burning in my heart
And it took me by surprise, thats no lie
You know you are, you are a sharp, shock to my system
A spark, a real shock
You know you are, you are a sharp, shock to my system
You start I cant stop
You taught me how to listen, shock to my system
My soul, my skin, you plug me in
And all of my pain is gone just like it never was
For the first time in my life I know what I feel
Now every time we touch Im caught off my guard
Thats no lie
You know you are, you are a sharp, shock to my system,
A spark, a real shock
You know you are, you are a sharp, shock to my system
You start I cant stop
You taught me how to listen shock to my system
Shock to my system
Shock to my system
You know you are, you are a sharp, shock to my system
You start I cant stop...
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shock To The System
Woah yeah
It was a night, l.a., burning bright
Oh what a night
Say yeah,come on
It makes my world stand still
Ahh riot, rape, race and revolution, ah yeah
Here come the fire, and my world burns still
Yoww say yeah
Well, you can rock this land baby yowww
Like a shock to the system
I feel good, well alright
Like a shock to the system
Say yeah, aint it irie
It was a night
Hell of a night, l.a., it really was
Oh what a riot
I said yeah, come on
It makes my life feel real
Fear police and civil corruption oh yeah
Is there a man who would be king
And the world stood still
Ah yeah loud
You can rock this land baby
Yeahhh
Like a shock to the system
It feel good, well alright
Like a shock to the system
I said yeah, come on baby
Shock to the system
Feel good, well alright
Like a shock, shock to the system
I say yeah, I say yeah, I say yeah
Come on baby
Yeah, well you can rock this land baby
Like a shock, shock to the system
It feel good, well alright
Like a shock to the system
I say yeah
Aint it irie
Shock to the system
It feel good, well alright
Like a shock to the system
I say yeah
I say yeah
I say yeah, come on baby
Shock to the, shock to the
Shock to the system
Loud I gotta
Shock to the, shock to the
Shock to the system
Yeah I gotta
Shock to the, shock to the
Shock to the system
Yeah I gotta
Shock to the, shock to the
Shock to the system
You could be king
[laugh]
Or I could be king
Yeah well
You could be king
Or I could be king
Well I gotta
You could be king
Say it louder
The world still burns
You could be king
I could be king
Yeah well
You could be king
Say it louder
I could be king
You could be king
Say it louder
The world still burns
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shock And Terror
the psychotic dress the senseless feature
it terrifies every living creature
predictability is wearing thin
groundbreaking practice for the preacher
clowns mortified by my expression
breathing new life into invention
and gagging the maggots with a weary hand
has failed to leave any impression
the shock and terror keeps me sane
the shock and terror keeps me sane
does anybody feel the same?
the shock and terror keeps me sane
up now for seven days and wired
the concept of sleep is way too tired
and I've dialed in a plan to reinstate
your sense of humor has expired
the shock and terror keeps me sane
the shock and terror keeps me sane
does anybody feel the same?
the shock and terror keeps me sane
song performed by by Cky from Infiltrate - Destroy - Rebuild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Liz Town Humorist
Settin' round the stove, last night,
Down at Wess's store, was me
And Mart Strimples, Tunk, and White,
And Doc Bills, and two er three
Fellers o' the Mudsock tribe
No use tryin' to describe!
And says Doc, he says, says he--,
'Talkin' 'bout good things to eat,
Ripe mushmillon's hard to beat!'
I chawed on. And Mart he 'lowed
Wortermillon beat the mush--.
'Red,' he says, 'and juicy-- Hush--!
I'll jes' leave it to the crowd!'
Then a Mudsock chap, says he--,
'Punkin's good enough fer me--
Punkin pies, I mean,' he says--,
Them beats millons--! What say, Wess?
I chawed on. And Wess says--, 'Well,
You jes' fetch that wife of mine
All yer wortermillon-rine--,
And she'll bile it down a spell--
In with sorghum, I suppose,
And what else, Lord only knows--!
But I'm here to tell all hands
Them p'serves meets my demands!'
I chawed on. And White he says--,
'Well, I'll jes' stand, in with Wess--
I'm no hog!' And Tunk says--, 'I
Guess I'll pastur' out on pie
With the Mudsock boys!' says he;
'Now what's yourn?' he says to me:
I chawed on-- fer-- quite a spell
Then I speaks up, slow and dry--,
Jes' tobacker!' I-says-I--.
And you'd ort o' heerd 'em yell!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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My Winter Season
The calm after the storm
A beautiful thing
Orange autumn sky
Wet green grass
Dead brown leaves
A few little birds still sing
The temperature is low
Im not complaining
This atmosphere makes me happy
I can wear all my warm clothes
The people are calm
My energy is no longer draining
The parks are all empty
The rivers start to ice
Cars frost over
Day turns to night
The season is bad but the mood nice
The frost now covers the ground
The trees with leaves no more
Its always mellow now a day
The cold has set in to stay now
My mind starts to go astray
This season is my own
The year is almost over
It won't be long now until its over
I don't want it to end
Spring will come soon with the first little clover
My love for this time has no reason
I just don't want it to do
All year around I've looked forward to now
Its my time right now
My beautiful season
poem by Daniel Laurence
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Seaside At Winter
It's amazing to watch the frost's work.
It made the sea side a fairy tale.
The frost's quirk made the sea not for a sail.
The silence is all around.
For a while the time stands still.
The seagulls can't swill.
Like in the realm of Antarctica
Throughout the frost, snow and ice
I see the beauty of a paradise.
But! In the next few moments
The spring will come spelling the frost.
The nature's fulfillment will be the most.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Wortermelon Time
Old wortermelon time is a-comin' round again,
And they ain't no man a-livin' any tickleder'n me,
Fer the way I hanker after wortermelons is a sin--
Which is the why and wharefore, as you can plainly see.
Oh! it's in the sandy soil wortermelons does the best,
And it's thare they'll lay and waller in the sunshine and
the dew
Tel they wear all the green streaks clean off of theyr
breast;
And you bet I ain't a-findin' any fault with them; ain't
you?
They ain't no better thing in the vegetable line;
And they don't need much 'tendin', as ev'ry farmer
knows;
And when theyr ripe and ready fer to pluck from the vine,
I want to say to you theyr the best fruit that grows.
It's some likes the yeller-core, and some likes the red.
And it's some says 'The Little Californy' is the best;
But the sweetest slice of all I ever wedged in my head,
Is the old 'Edingburg Mounting-sprout,' of the west
You don't want no punkins nigh your wortermelon
vines--
'Cause, some-way-another, they'll spile your melons,
shore;--
I've seed 'em taste like punkins, from the core to the rines,
Which may be a fact you have heerd of before
But your melons that's raised right and 'tended to with
care,
You can walk around amongst 'em with a parent's
pride and joy,
And thump 'em on the heads with as fatherly a air
As ef each one of them was your little girl er boy.
I joy in my hart jest to hear that rippin' sound
When you split one down the back and jolt the halves
in two,
And the friends you love the best is gethered all around--
And you says unto your sweethart, 'Oh, here's the
core fer you!'
And I like to slice 'em up in big pieces fer 'em all,
Espeshally the childern, and watch theyr high delight
As one by one the rines with theyr pink notches falls,
And they holler fer some more, with unquenched
appetite.
Boys takes to it natchurl, and I like to see 'em eat--
A slice of wortermelon's like a frenchharp in theyr
hands,
And when they 'saw' it through theyr mouth sich music
can't be beat--
'Cause it's music both the sperit and the stummick
understands.
Oh, they's more in wortermelons than the purty-colored
meat,
And the overflowin' sweetness of the worter squshed
betwixt
The up'ard and the down'ard motions of a feller's teeth,
And it's the taste of ripe old age and juicy childhood
mixed.
Fer I never taste a melon but my thoughts flies away
To the summertime of youth; and again I see the dawn,
And the fadin' afternoon of the long summer day,
And the dusk and dew a-fallin', and the night a-comin'
on.
And thare's the corn around us, and the lispin' leaves and
trees,
And the stars a-peekin' down on us as still as silver
mice,
And us boys in the wortermelons on our hands and knees,
And the new-moon hangin' ore us like a yeller-cored
slice.
Oh! it's wortermelon time is a-comin' round again,
And they ain't no man a-livin' any tickleder'n me,
Fer the way I hanker after wortermelons is a sin--
Which is the why and wharefore, as you can plainly see.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Shock Your Mama
Verse1:
So ya ready to learn?
Baby Im here to teach you
Things youve only done in your dreams
Boy you have only touched
The tip of the iceberg
Ill meet you at the other extreme
In a different world,
Im a different girl
Youll see me in a darker light
More than meets the eye
Come along for the ride
Hold on tight cause I just might
Chorus:
Shock your mama
Shock shock your mama baby
Shock your mama
Shock shock your mama baby
Shock your mama
Shock shock your mama baby
Shock your mama tonight
Verse2:
You picked me up at eight,
For dinner at nine
Baby where did that hour go? !?
Your mother thinks Im cool
And everythings fine
Boy the things that she doesnt know
While shes servin dinner Ill be servin time
Counting minutes til were alone
Ive got another menu and Ill show you when you
Give me the time, well spill the wine
Were gonna
Break:
If anyone thinks were movin too fast
Tell the whole world the can kiss my..
Chorus
Rap: (oh my!)
Im not talkin about your mama
But Im hoping that if you wanna
We could go on a trip
Would it be hip, baby!? !
We could go to the stars
Venus and mars
Maybe we could find another kind of love
Thats different than ours
Lovin that knows no boundaries, I found a reason
Love that has no limits
Or no gimmicks or no jealousy within it
Mama dont allow the kind of things that Ive been saying
The games that Ive been playin
The hearts that Ive been swaying in my direction
Its heading straight into your heart
And my suggestion is that you better do your part
And dont worry if you shock .... your mama
( and your daddy too! )
Shock break:
Shock it til ya drop
Im gonna shock shock
Shock it baby dont ever stop
Verse3:
Though Im all good news in my sunday shoes
Im gonna wear you out on saturday night
So know your fact from your fable, look before you label
cause I cook a different meal
On someone elses table that will...
Later...... much
song performed by by Debbie Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Most Surfaces
The frost hits me in the eye
and wakes me
these are blury winters
and I cannot see
I walk into the white light of the snow
when the sun comes
I break it with my shadow
which tales me where I go
The frost hits me in the eye
and wakes me
I am the snow falling down on you
I tear up your face with my frost
And make you run to somewhere warm
When I come I see you get away
I burst out about your emptyness
The frost hits me in the eye
and wakes me
these are blury winters
and I cannot see
song performed by by The Gathering from Nighttime Birds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inspired by Issa - Morning Frost
morning frost
he blows at his steaming
hot dumpings
inspired by
morning frost-
yet still a child
sells flowers
-Issa,1820
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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