The Complete Arthur Greenleaf Holmes

Mother, will my stones drop Ere I turn twenty-nine? I tire of this empty sack Against my hairless thigh. And when will I awaken, To find my ...

Dearest Sister, I write from my little cottage in Stoke-On-Trent-By-Darcy-Upon-Avon-By-The-Sea. I think I shall enjoy this dwelling well; I...

Ode To An Extremely Provocative Knothole Thou hole! Thou lurid, lusty hole! The spreading cherry bares her soul! She spills her lobed and li...

With apologies to Thomas Hardy: The Ruined Maid Last night I met a comely girl With cheek a-blush and golden curls. Pure this maid as glitte...

People expect me to have armed myself with a host of limericks, but such is not the case. I don't write limericks. I have always thoug...

I composed this poem the day after what I can only describe as the most eventful day in my life. Disillusioned and sick at heart, I wandere...