Who is Ronald Koertge

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Ronald Koertge Poems

  • Body Shop
    When I come in, my mechanic is eating
    lunch. He doesn't look over the top
    of his newspaper.
    I glance around, hoping that Miss July ...
  • Little Morning Seranade
    Bamboo shoots in a blue pot, tea steeping
    in a tall cup with painted koi on the side.
    Outside my window, the cat stalks a sparrow,
    but is too tender-hearted to lunge. ...
  • Poets Vs. Wildcats
    Coach entreats us to control the clock.
    But how can one not ponder "time's winged
    chariot," or "Time the foe of Man's dominion"?
    Pondering leads to delay of game. ...
  • The Trojan Pony
    It is small, holds only a few boys and girls
    and smells like graham crackers inside.
    There it sits one morning shining in the sun.
    A giant toy. Beyond inviting. Irresistible. ...
  • An Infinite Number Of Monkeys
    After all the Shakespeare, the book
    of poems they type is the saddest
    in history.
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Top 10 most used topics by Ronald Koertge

Away 5 Time 5 Body 5 Believe 4 Sun 4 I Love You 4 Love 4 Open 4 Small 3 Red 3

Ronald Koertge Quotes

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Comments about Ronald Koertge

  • Versedailypoems: the search party by ronald koertge
  • Mlnangalama: “sidekicks” by ronald koertge poetry 180: a poem a day for american high schools, hosted by billy collins, u.s. poet laureate, 2001-2003 sidekicks they were never handsome and often came with a hormone imbalance manifested by corpulence, a yodel of a voice or ears big as…
  • Dalelandrum13: koertge ronald-yellow moving van (us import) book new 9780822965626 | ebay
  • Chlojewell: "thankfully, heroes never die in movies and leave the sidekick alone. he would not stand for it. gabby or pat, pancho or andy remind us of a part of ourselves" -ronald koertge; sidekicks (2/2)
  • Vickimiko: sidekicks, by ronald koertge - poem 089 | poetry 180: a poem a day for american high schools, hosted by billy colli...
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Poem of the day

Walt Whitman Poem
Sea-Shore Memories
 by Walt Whitman

OUT of the cradle endlessly rocking,
Out of the mocking-bird's throat, the musical shuttle,
Out of the Ninth-month midnight,
Over the sterile sands, and the fields beyond, where the child,
leaving his bed, wander'd alone, bare-headed, barefoot,
Down from the shower'd halo,
Up from the mystic play of shadows, twining and twisting as if they
were alive,

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