The following is a poem written by a 6th grade student in 1962. I found it yesterday in a stack of papers left behind in a garage by a teacher, who died decades ago. Oh, to be an atom Having so much power. Why, when
Have you heard the sound of one President’s silence while quiet eyes watch?
The young man lay alone at night, His head against a root. His nose was frosty with the snow His face was black with soot. But he was warm, he swore, he swore, Before the howl made at his foot, the howling at his foot.
From The American Center for Sarah Palin Inspirational Limericks: As debates go, it was quite a flat one, each answer most likely a pat one. Though a night with no drama is a win for Obama the same can’t be said for Mc “That One.”
Fear the lesser son who, desperate to burn bright, incinerates all. – Susan Anthony, San Francisco, Poets Against War
Muthee won her the office of Guv Praying hands brought down might from Above But Muthee has itches Hunting ones he calls witches Fitting Palin like hand in a glove. Can you sum up the Palin witch craze In a limerick (not with essays)? Keep
If you need another reminder that George W. Bush’s political games matter more than as a way of keeping partisan score, go ahead and read today’s piece by Charlie Savage of the New York Times. Savage’s article documents that the immigration judges appointed by the