Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
Why
Why poets are shy.
Shylock what's in a name.
Why do they then cry
from Yawning Depths
to Wuthering Heights.
Why do they pointy-late
in consonants and footnotes
and sketch an unsaid Why.
Rilke steered my mares,
Vroman turned me in his cell
and Komrij protected my shell.
But What I needed
Was carefully heeded
in urges to mystify.
poem
by
Madrason writer
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black