Seymour Poems - Poems about Seymour

Seymour was sad that everyone generalized his kind They do not think I hear, but it hurts, I truly do mind They say we are slow, because we are snails you see He did not have to tell me, said his Grandma Vee She knew that the world made fun of the way they moved In her day she had...

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In Pacifica I despise that portrait of me. The likeness ends with the name. Yes, Jane Seymour, unbeheaded Queen of England. No, not of pinched thin lips and sharp bird-beak nose. Those hideous wimples tented on over plucked foreheads displaying protruding toad eyes.... I was not the smoldering gypsy beauty of Anne Boleyn nor the loud, youthful excess of everything Katherine Howard but look what their beauty cost them: one head apiece. I...

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SAMUEL SEYMOUR 1956 Concern for the man who fell out of the box, says this crackerjack kid, “someone help him.” Only five years old, Samuel Seymour would be the last surviving witness, nine decades later, who saw the man in the theater break a leg, not the good kind. “I was scared to death,” says the old man, letting the contestants on...

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The fountain in Seymour Square's All the colours of the rainbow The clock tower behind All the hours of the day The flowers surrounding All the scents available And the spirit hanging in the air Hears everything you say...

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Death can come so quickly Like a thief in the night But when the victim is so very young It’s definitely not right. John has left us way too soon. We ask what does this mean? He was in the prime of life He was only seventeen! It’s all part of the Master Plan At least that’s what they say. But that’s not too much...

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