Who is Arthur Seymour John Tessimond

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Arthur Seymour John Tessimond Poems

  • Chaplin
    The sun, a heavy spider, spins in the thirsty sky.
    The wind hides under cactus leaves, in doorway corners. Only the wry

    Small shadow accompanies Hamlet-Petrouchka's march - the slight ...
  • Black On Black
    Serrations of chimneys
    Stone-black perforate
    Velvet-black dark.
    A tree coils in core of darkness. ...
  • Bells, Pool And Sleep
    Bells overbrim with sound
    And spread from cupolas
    Out through the shaking air
    Endless unbreaking circles ...
  • Sea
    1
    (Windless Summer)

    Between the glass panes of the sea are pressed ...
  • Last Word To Childhood
    Ice-cold fear has slowly decreased
    As my bones have grown, my height increased.
    Though I shiver in snow of dreams, I shall never
    Freeze again in a noonday terror. ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond

Light 8 Touch 7 Sea 7 Wind 7 Sun 6 World 6 I Love You 5 Love 5 Dark 5 Smile 5


Arthur Seymour John Tessimond Quotes

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Comments about Arthur Seymour John Tessimond

Jackshebang: thank you to esta charkham for sharing this it’s by arthur seymour john tessimond asj tessimond
Faust89823700: arthur seymour john tessimond - sea 1 (windless summer) between the glass panes of the sea are pressed patterns of fronds, and the bronze tracks of fishes.
Mueroporsalir: “cats: no less liquid than their shadows offer no angles to the wind. they slip, diminished, neat through loopholes less than themselves; will not be pinned.“ -arthur seymour john tessimond
Faust89823700: a hollow core, shell in a shell. useless to produce their path to infinity or turn it to a moral symbol, for their flight is ambiguous, upwards or downwards as you please; their fountain is frozen, their concertina is silent. arthur seymour john tessimond
Cailinceltic: and people will smile without reason, even in winter, even in the rain. day dream - arthur seymour john tessimond imagery - emilie legar
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Poem of the day

Edgar Albert Guest Poem
The Killing Place
 by Edgar Albert Guest

We're hiking along at a two-forty pace
We 're making life seem like a man-killing race,
With our nerves all on edge and our jaws firmly set
We go rushing along; with our brows lined with sweat
And our cheeks pale and drawn every minute we dash,
And the goal that we 're after is merely more cash.

We 're out for the money, the greenbacks and gold,
...

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