Classic and Contemporary Poetry
WALLS, by O. J. BOWLES First Line: My unrest fumbles like a hand Last Line: That's lying down! Subject(s): Walls | ||||||||
My unrest fumbles like a hand Along this slender street, Where walls made out of houses stand To hinder my retreat. And always there's a wall of smoke That rises ply on ply, And makes me one with prison folk Who may not view the sky. I've found no freedom here at all From walls in this grey town -- The street itself is but a wall That's lying down! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LIFE OF TOWNS: TOWN OF THE WRONG QUESTIONS by ANNE CARSON COMES WINTER, THE SEA HUNTING by NORMAN DUBIE ATMOSPHERE; INSCRIPTION FOR A GARDEN WALL by ROBERT FROST UP AGAINST IT by ELEANOR WILNER BARTLEBY AT THE WALL by JACK GILBERT WALLS by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. THE BIGLOW PAPERS. 2D SERIES. THE COURTIN' by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL |
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