poet.id,poet.ts,poet.title,poet.poet_x_poem_id
131,"2018-02-28 21:08:00","Rupert Brooke","{
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3034,
        ""poem.id"": 3034,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:39:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Song Of The Pilgrims"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3035"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3035,
        ""poem.id"": 3035,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:39:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sonnet (Suggested By Some Of The Proceedings Of The Society For Psychical Research )"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3036"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3036,
        ""poem.id"": 3036,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:39:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mummia"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3037"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3037,
        ""poem.id"": 3037,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:39:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Jolly Company, The"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3038"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3038,
        ""poem.id"": 3038,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:40:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Iv. The Dead"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3039"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3039,
        ""poem.id"": 3039,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:40:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Dead: Iv"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3040"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3040,
        ""poem.id"": 3040,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:40:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sonnet: Oh! Death Will Find Me, Long Before I Tire"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3041"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3041,
        ""poem.id"": 3041,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:40:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Ii. Safety"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3042"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3042,
        ""poem.id"": 3042,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:40:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Charm"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3043"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3043,
        ""poem.id"": 3043,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:40:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""In Examination"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3044"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3044,
        ""poem.id"": 3044,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:40:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Beginning"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3045"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3045,
        ""poem.id"": 3045,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:40:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Voice, The"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3046"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3046,
        ""poem.id"": 3046,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:40:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Wagner"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3047"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3047,
        ""poem.id"": 3047,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:40:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Jolly Company"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3048"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3048,
        ""poem.id"": 3048,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:40:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Iii. The Dead"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3049"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3049,
        ""poem.id"": 3049,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:40:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The One Before The Last"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3050"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3050,
        ""poem.id"": 3050,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:40:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sonnet: Oh! Death Will Find Me, Long Before I Tire"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3051"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3051,
        ""poem.id"": 3051,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:41:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""On The Death Of Smet-Smet, The Hippopotamus- Goddess"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3052"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3052,
        ""poem.id"": 3052,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:41:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Life Beyond"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3053"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3053,
        ""poem.id"": 3053,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:41:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Vision Of The Archangels, The"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3054"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3054,
        ""poem.id"": 3054,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:41:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Treasure, The"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3055"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3055,
        ""poem.id"": 3055,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:41:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Song."",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3056"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3056,
        ""poem.id"": 3056,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:41:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sonnet Reversed"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3057"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3057,
        ""poem.id"": 3057,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:41:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Song Of The Beasts"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3058"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3058,
        ""poem.id"": 3058,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:41:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Goddess In The Wood"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3059"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3059,
        ""poem.id"": 3059,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:41:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Lines Written In The Belief That The Ancient Roman Festival Of The Dead Was Called Ambarvalia"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3060"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3060,
        ""poem.id"": 3060,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:42:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Song Of The Pilgrims, The"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3061"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3061,
        ""poem.id"": 3061,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:42:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I. Peace"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3062"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3062,
        ""poem.id"": 3062,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:42:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Chilterns"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3063"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3063,
        ""poem.id"": 3063,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:42:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Dead"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3064"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3064,
        ""poem.id"": 3064,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:42:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Hill"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3065"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3065,
        ""poem.id"": 3065,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:42:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Town And Country"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3066"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3066,
        ""poem.id"": 3066,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:42:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Libido"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3067"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3067,
        ""poem.id"": 3067,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:42:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Funeral Of Youth: Threnody"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3068"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3068,
        ""poem.id"": 3068,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:43:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Vision Of The Archangels"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3069"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3069,
        ""poem.id"": 3069,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:43:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Busy Heart"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3070"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3070,
        ""poem.id"": 3070,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:43:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Voice"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3071"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3071,
        ""poem.id"": 3071,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:43:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Wayfarers, The"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3072"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3072,
        ""poem.id"": 3072,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:43:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sonnet"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""3073"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3073,
        ""poem.id"": 3073,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:43:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""One Before The Last, The"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30915"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30915,
        ""poem.id"": 30915,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:39:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mutability"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30916"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30916,
        ""poem.id"": 30916,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:39:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Fish"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30917"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30917,
        ""poem.id"": 30917,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:40:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Victory"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30918"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30918,
        ""poem.id"": 30918,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:40:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Flight"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30919"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30919,
        ""poem.id"": 30919,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:40:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Kindliness"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30920"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30920,
        ""poem.id"": 30920,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:40:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Waikiki"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30921"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30921,
        ""poem.id"": 30921,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:40:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Night Journey, The"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30922"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30922,
        ""poem.id"": 30922,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:40:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Life Beyond, The"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30923"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30923,
        ""poem.id"": 30923,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:40:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Call"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30924"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30924,
        ""poem.id"": 30924,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:40:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""One Day"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30925"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30925,
        ""poem.id"": 30925,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:40:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hauntings"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30926"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30926,
        ""poem.id"": 30926,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:40:47"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Unfortunate"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30927"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30927,
        ""poem.id"": 30927,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:40:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Goddess In The Wood, The"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30928"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30928,
        ""poem.id"": 30928,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:41:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Now, God Be Thanked Who Has Matched Us With His Hour"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30929"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30929,
        ""poem.id"": 30929,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:41:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Way That Lovers Use"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30930"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30930,
        ""poem.id"": 30930,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:41:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Wayfarers"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30931"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30931,
        ""poem.id"": 30931,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:41:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Second Best"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30932"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30932,
        ""poem.id"": 30932,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:41:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Retrospect"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30933"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30933,
        ""poem.id"": 30933,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:42:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Thoughts On The Shape Of The Human Body"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30934"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30934,
        ""poem.id"": 30934,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:42:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Way That Lovers Use, The"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30935"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30935,
        ""poem.id"": 30935,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:42:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Great Lover"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
    },
    ""30936"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 30936,
        ""poem.id"": 30936,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:42:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Tiare Tahiti"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Rupert Brooke""
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132,"2018-02-28 21:08:11","Henry David Thoreau","{
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    },
    ""3080"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3080,
        ""poem.id"": 3080,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:44:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Fisher’s Boy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/12/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3081"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3081,
        ""poem.id"": 3081,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:44:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Poet's Delay"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/12/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3082"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3082,
        ""poem.id"": 3082,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:44:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Salmon Brook"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/12/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3083"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3083,
        ""poem.id"": 3083,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:44:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Was Made Erect And Lone"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/26/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3084"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3084,
        ""poem.id"": 3084,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:44:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""What's The Railroad To Me?"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3085"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3085,
        ""poem.id"": 3085,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:44:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""They Who Prepare My Evening Meal Below"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3086"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3086,
        ""poem.id"": 3086,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:44:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Great God, I Ask For No Meaner Pelf"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/26/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3087"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3087,
        ""poem.id"": 3087,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:44:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Inward Morning"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3088"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3088,
        ""poem.id"": 3088,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:45:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Light-Winged Smoke"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/12/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3089"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3089,
        ""poem.id"": 3089,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:45:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Like A Soul"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/12/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3090"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3090,
        ""poem.id"": 3090,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:45:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Men Say They Know Many Things"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/12/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3091"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3091,
        ""poem.id"": 3091,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:45:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Song Of Nature"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/12/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3092"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3092,
        ""poem.id"": 3092,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:45:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""All Things Are Current Found"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/12/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3093"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3093,
        ""poem.id"": 3093,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:45:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Am A Parcel Of Vain Strivings Tied"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3094"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3094,
        ""poem.id"": 3094,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:45:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sic Vita"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3095"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3095,
        ""poem.id"": 3095,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:45:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Low-Anchored Cloud"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3096"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3096,
        ""poem.id"": 3096,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:46:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Let Such Pure Hate Still Underprop"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3097"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3097,
        ""poem.id"": 3097,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:46:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""On Fields O'Er Which The Reaper's Hand Has Pass'D"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3098"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3098,
        ""poem.id"": 3098,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:46:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Pray To What Earth Does This Sweet Cold Belong"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3099"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3099,
        ""poem.id"": 3099,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:46:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Rumors From An Aeolian Harp"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3100"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3100,
        ""poem.id"": 3100,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:46:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Smoke"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3101"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3101,
        ""poem.id"": 3101,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:46:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Prayer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3102"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3102,
        ""poem.id"": 3102,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:46:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Am The Autumnal Sun"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3103"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3103,
        ""poem.id"": 3103,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:46:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Epitaph On The World"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3104"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3104,
        ""poem.id"": 3104,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:46:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Nature"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/12/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3105"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3105,
        ""poem.id"": 3105,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:46:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My Life Has Been The Poem"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/12/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3106"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3106,
        ""poem.id"": 3106,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:46:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Knew A Man By Sight"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3107"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3107,
        ""poem.id"": 3107,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:47:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Winter Memories"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3108"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3108,
        ""poem.id"": 3108,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:47:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mist"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3109"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3109,
        ""poem.id"": 3109,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:47:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Summer Rain"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": ""My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read, 'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large Down in the meadow, where is richer feed, And will not mind to hit their proper targe. Plutarch was good, and so was Homer too, Our Shakespeare's life were rich to live again, What Plutarch read, that was not good nor true, Nor Shakespeare's books, unless his books were men. Here while I lie beneath this walnut bough, What care I for the Greeks or for Troy town, If juster battles are enacted now Between the ants upon this hummock's crown? Bid Homer wait till I the issue learn, If red or black the gods will favor most, Or yonder Ajax will the phalanx turn, Struggling to heave some rock against the host. Tell Shakespeare to attend some leisure hour, For now I've business with this drop of dew, And see you not, the clouds prepare a shower-- I'll meet him shortly when the sky is blue. This bed of herd's grass and wild oats was spread Last year with nicer skill than monarchs use. A clover tuft is pillow for my head, And violets quite overtop my shoes. And now the cordial clouds have shut all in, And gently swells the wind to say all's well; The scattered drops are falling fast and thin, Some in the pool, some in the flower-bell. I am well drenched upon my bed of oats; But see that globe come rolling down its stem, Now like a lonely planet there it floats, And now it sinks into my garment's hem. Drip drip the trees for all the country round, And richness rare distills from every bough; The wind alone it is makes every sound, Shaking down crystals on the leaves below. For shame the sun will never show himself, Who could not with his beams e'er melt me so; My dripping locks--they would become an elf, Who in a beaded coat does gayly go."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3110"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3110,
        ""poem.id"": 3110,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:47:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Inspiration"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Whate'er we leave to God, God does, And blesses us; The work we choose should be our own, God leaves alone. If with light head erect I sing, Though all the Muses lend their force, From my poor love of anything, The verse is weak and shallow as its source. But if with bended neck I grope Listening behind me for my wit, With faith superior to hope, More anxious to keep back than forward it; Making my soul accomplice there Unto the flame my heart hath lit, Then will the verse forever wear-- Time cannot bend the line which God hath writ. Always the general show of things Floats in review before my mind, And such true love and reverence brings, That sometimes I forget that I am blind. But now there comes unsought, unseen, Some clear divine electuary, And I, who had but sensual been, Grow sensible, and as God is, am wary. I hearing get, who had but ears, And sight, who had but eyes before, I moments live, who lived but years, And truth discern, who knew but learning's lore. I hear beyond the range of sound, I see beyond the range of sight, New earths and skies and seas around, And in my day the sun doth pale his light. A clear and ancient harmony Pierces my soul through all its din, As through its utmost melody-- Farther behind than they, farther within. More swift its bolt than lightning is, Its voice than thunder is more loud, It doth expand my privacies To all, and leave me single in the crowd. It speaks with such authority, With so serene and lofty tone, That idle Time runs gadding by, And leaves me with Eternity alone. Now chiefly is my natal hour, And only now my prime of life; Of manhood's strength it is the flower, 'Tis peace's end and war's beginning strife. It comes in summer's broadest noon, By a grey wall or some chance place, Unseasoning Time, insulting June, And vexing day with its presuming face. Such fragrance round my couch it makes, More rich than are Arabian drugs, That my soul scents its life and wakes The body up beneath its perfumed rugs. Such is the Muse, the heavenly maid, The star that guides our mortal course, Which shows where life's true kernel's laid, Its wheat's fine flour, and its undying force. She with one breath attunes the spheres, And also my poor human heart, With one impulse propels the years Around, and gives my throbbing pulse its start. I will not doubt for evermore, Nor falter from a steadfast faith, For thought the system be turned o'er, God takes not back the word which once He saith. I will not doubt the love untold Which not my worth nor want has bought, Which wooed me young, and woos me old, And to this evening hath me brought. My memory I'll educate To know the one historic truth, Remembering to the latest date The only true and sole immortal youth. Be but thy inspiration given, No matter through what danger sought, I'll fathom hell or climb to heaven, And yet esteem that cheap which love has bought. ___________________ Fame cannot tempt the bard Who's famous with his God, Nor laurel him reward Who has his Maker's nod."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3111"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3111,
        ""poem.id"": 3111,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:47:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Conscience"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3112"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3112,
        ""poem.id"": 3112,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:47:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Moon"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""3113"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3113,
        ""poem.id"": 3113,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:47:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Indeed, Indeed I Cannot Tell"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    },
    ""31033"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31033,
        ""poem.id"": 31033,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:47:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Friendship"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Henry David Thoreau""
    }
}"
133,"2018-02-28 21:08:22","Nazim Hikmet","{
    ""3114"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3114,
        ""poem.id"": 3114,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:48:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Samet Vurgun"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/20/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Nazim Hikmet""
    },
    ""3115"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3115,
        ""poem.id"": 3115,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:48:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Japanese Fisherman"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/20/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Nazim Hikmet""
    },
    ""3116"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3116,
        ""poem.id"": 3116,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:48:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Faces Of Our Women"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/20/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Nazim Hikmet""
    },
    ""3117"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3117,
        ""poem.id"": 3117,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:48:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Miniature Woman"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/20/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Nazim Hikmet""
    },
    ""3118"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3118,
        ""poem.id"": 3118,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:48:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Walnut Tree"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/20/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Nazim Hikmet""
    },
    ""3119"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3119,
        ""poem.id"": 3119,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:48:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""On The Fifth Day Of A Hunger Strike"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/20/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Nazim Hikmet""
    },
    ""3120"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3120,
        ""poem.id"": 3120,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:48:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Thinking Of You"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/20/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Nazim Hikmet""
    },
    ""3121"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3121,
        ""poem.id"": 3121,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:48:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""You Are My Drunkenness"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/20/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Nazim Hikmet""
    },
    ""3122"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3122,
        ""poem.id"": 3122,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:48:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""After Release From Prison"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/20/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Nazim Hikmet""
    },
    ""3123"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3123,
        ""poem.id"": 3123,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:48:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Since I’ve Been In Jail"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/20/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Nazim Hikmet""
    },
    ""3124"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3124,
        ""poem.id"": 3124,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:48:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""You"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/20/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Nazim Hikmet""
    },
    ""3125"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3125,
        ""poem.id"": 3125,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:48:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Think Of You..."",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/20/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Nazim Hikmet""
    },
    ""3126"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3126,
        ""poem.id"": 3126,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:48:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Poems For Piraye (9 To 10 O’clock Poems)"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/20/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Nazim Hikmet""
    },
    ""3127"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3127,
        ""poem.id"": 3127,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:49:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Want To Die Before You"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/20/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Nazim Hikmet""
    },
    ""3128"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3128,
        ""poem.id"": 3128,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:49:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Today Is Sunday"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Nazim Hikmet""
    },
    ""3129"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3129,
        ""poem.id"": 3129,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:49:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Love You"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/20/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Nazim Hikmet""
    },
    ""3130"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3130,
        ""poem.id"": 3130,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:49:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hiroshima Child"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/20/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Nazim Hikmet""
    },
    ""3131"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3131,
        ""poem.id"": 3131,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:49:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Gioconda And Si-Ya-U"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
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134,"2018-02-28 21:08:31","Hilaire Belloc","{
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    ""31151"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31151,
        ""poem.id"": 31151,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:48:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Kings Live In Palaces, And Pigs In Sties"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/21/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31152"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31152,
        ""poem.id"": 31152,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:48:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""[month Of] October"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31153"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31153,
        ""poem.id"": 31153,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:48:17"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Mirror"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/3/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31154"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31154,
        ""poem.id"": 31154,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:48:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Marmozet"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31155"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31155,
        ""poem.id"": 31155,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:48:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Death And Last Confession Of Wandering Peter"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31156"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31156,
        ""poem.id"": 31156,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:48:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""On Two Ministers Of State"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31157"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31157,
        ""poem.id"": 31157,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:48:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31158"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31158,
        ""poem.id"": 31158,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:48:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hildebrand"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31159"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31159,
        ""poem.id"": 31159,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:48:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Scorpion"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31160"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31160,
        ""poem.id"": 31160,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:48:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""[month Of] September"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31161"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31161,
        ""poem.id"": 31161,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:48:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""On The Little God"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31162"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31162,
        ""poem.id"": 31162,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:48:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Evenlode"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31163"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31163,
        ""poem.id"": 31163,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:48:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Birds"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/9/2001"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31164"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31164,
        ""poem.id"": 31164,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:49:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Statue"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31165"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31165,
        ""poem.id"": 31165,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:49:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""On The Ladies Of Pixton"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
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    ""31166"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31166,
        ""poem.id"": 31166,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:49:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""On Torture: A Public Singer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
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    ""31167"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31167,
        ""poem.id"": 31167,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:49:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Franklin Hyde"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31168"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31168,
        ""poem.id"": 31168,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:49:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Lines To A Don"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31169"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31169,
        ""poem.id"": 31169,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:49:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Ha'Nacker Mill"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31170"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31170,
        ""poem.id"": 31170,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:49:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Heroic Poem In Praise Of Wine"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31171"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31171,
        ""poem.id"": 31171,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:49:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The World Is Full Of Double Beds"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/21/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31172"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31172,
        ""poem.id"": 31172,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:49:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Pelagian Drinking Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31173"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31173,
        ""poem.id"": 31173,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:50:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Night"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31174"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31174,
        ""poem.id"": 31174,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:50:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""On Vital Statistics"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31175"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31175,
        ""poem.id"": 31175,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:50:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Juliet"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/9/2001"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31176"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31176,
        ""poem.id"": 31176,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:50:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""On The Gift Of A Book To A Child"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/3/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31177"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31177,
        ""poem.id"": 31177,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:50:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Pacifist"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31178"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31178,
        ""poem.id"": 31178,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:50:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Lines For A Christmas Card"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31179"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31179,
        ""poem.id"": 31179,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:50:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Heretics All"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/9/2001"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31180"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31180,
        ""poem.id"": 31180,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:50:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Dromedary"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31181"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31181,
        ""poem.id"": 31181,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:51:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Telephone"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31182"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31182,
        ""poem.id"": 31182,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:51:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Is There Any Reward?"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31183"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31183,
        ""poem.id"": 31183,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:51:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Whale"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31184"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31184,
        ""poem.id"": 31184,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:51:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Hippopotamus"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31185"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31185,
        ""poem.id"": 31185,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:51:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Yak"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31186"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31186,
        ""poem.id"": 31186,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:51:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Time Cures All"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31187"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31187,
        ""poem.id"": 31187,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:51:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Because My Faltering Feet"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31188"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31188,
        ""poem.id"": 31188,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:51:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Lion"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31189"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31189,
        ""poem.id"": 31189,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:51:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Vulture"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31190"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31190,
        ""poem.id"": 31190,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:51:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Godolphin Horne"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31191"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31191,
        ""poem.id"": 31191,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:52:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Lord Finchley"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31192"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31192,
        ""poem.id"": 31192,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:52:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The South Country"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/9/2001"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31193"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31193,
        ""poem.id"": 31193,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:52:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Tiger"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31194"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31194,
        ""poem.id"": 31194,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:52:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Drinking Song, On The Excellence Of Burgundy Wine"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/9/2001"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31195"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31195,
        ""poem.id"": 31195,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:52:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Elephant"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31196"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31196,
        ""poem.id"": 31196,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:52:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Catholic Sun"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31197"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31197,
        ""poem.id"": 31197,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:52:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Algernon"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31198"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31198,
        ""poem.id"": 31198,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:52:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Ballade To Our Lady Of Czestochowa"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31199"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31199,
        ""poem.id"": 31199,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:52:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Lord Lundy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31200"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31200,
        ""poem.id"": 31200,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:52:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Trinity"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31201"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31201,
        ""poem.id"": 31201,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:52:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Talking (And Singing) Of The Nordic Man"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31202"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31202,
        ""poem.id"": 31202,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:52:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Matilda Who Told Lies, And Was Burned To Death"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/3/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Matilda told such Dreadful Lies,It made one Gasp and Stretch one's Eyes; Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest Youth,Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth,Attempted to Believe Matilda:The effort very nearly killed her,And would have done so, had not SheDiscovered this Infirmity.For once, towards the Close of Day,Matilda, growing tired of play,And finding she was left alone,Went tiptoe to the TelephoneAnd summoned the Immediate AidOf London's Noble Fire-Brigade.Within an hour the Gallant BandWere pouring in on every hand,From Putney, Hackney Downs, and Bow.With Courage high and Hearts a-glow,They galloped, roaring through the Town,'Matilda's House is Burning Down! 'Inspired by British Cheers and LoudProceeding from the Frenzied Crowd,They ran their ladders through a scoreOf windows on the Ball Room Floor; And took Peculiar Pains to SouseThe Pictures up and down the House,Until Matilda's Aunt succeededIn showing them they were not needed; And even then she had to payTo get the Men to go away, It happened that a few Weeks laterHer Aunt was off to the TheatreTo see that Interesting PlayThe Second Mrs. Tanqueray.She had refused to take her NieceTo hear this Entertaining Piece:A Deprivation Just and WiseTo Punish her for Telling Lies.That Night a Fire did break out- You should have heard Matilda Shout! You should have heard her Scream and Bawl,And throw the window up and callTo People passing in the Street- (The rapidly increasing HeatEncouraging her to obtainTheir confidence) - but all in vain! For every time she shouted 'Fire! 'They only answered 'Little Liar! 'And therefore when her Aunt returned,Matilda, and the House, were Burned."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31203"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31203,
        ""poem.id"": 31203,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:52:47"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Charles Augustus Fortescue"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31204"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31204,
        ""poem.id"": 31204,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:52:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Henry King"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Your browser does not support the audio element."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31205"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31205,
        ""poem.id"": 31205,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:52:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Microbe"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31206"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31206,
        ""poem.id"": 31206,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:52:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Jim"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Who ran away from his Nurse and was eaten by a LionThere was a Boy whose name was Jim;His Friends were very good to him.They gave him Tea, and Cakes, and Jam,And slices of delicious Ham,And Chocolate with pink insideAnd little Tricycles to ride,And read him Stories through and through,And even took him to the Zoo--But there it was the dreadful FateBefell him, which I now relate.You know--or at least you ought to know,For I have often told you so--That Children never are allowedTo leave their Nurses in a Crowd;Now this was Jim's especial Foible,He ran away when he was able,And on this inauspicious dayHe slipped his hand and ran away!He hadn't gone a yard when--Bang!With open Jaws, a lion sprang,And hungrily began to eatThe Boy: beginning at his feet.Now, just imagine how it feelsWhen first your toes and then your heels,And then by gradual degrees,Your shins and ankles, calves and knees,Are slowly eaten, bit by bit.No wonder Jim detested it!No wonder that he shouted ``Hi!''The Honest Keeper heard his cry,Though very fat he almost ranTo help the little gentleman.``Ponto!'' he ordered as he came(For Ponto was the Lion's name),``Ponto!'' he cried, with angry Frown,``Let go, Sir! Down, Sir! Put it down!''The Lion made a sudden stop,He let the Dainty Morsel drop,And slunk reluctant to his Cage,Snarling with Disappointed Rage.But when he bent him over Jim,The Honest Keeper's Eyes were dim.The Lion having reached his Head,The Miserable Boy was dead!When Nurse informed his Parents, theyWere more Concerned than I can say:--His Mother, as She dried her eyes,Said, ``Well--it gives me no surprise,He would not do as he was told!''His Father, who was self-controlled,Bade all the children round attendTo James's miserable end,And always keep a-hold of NurseFor fear of finding something worse."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31207"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31207,
        ""poem.id"": 31207,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:53:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Frog"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31208"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31208,
        ""poem.id"": 31208,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:53:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Early Morning"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31209"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31209,
        ""poem.id"": 31209,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:53:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Rebecca"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31210"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31210,
        ""poem.id"": 31210,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:53:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""George"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    },
    ""31211"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31211,
        ""poem.id"": 31211,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:53:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Tarantella"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Hilaire Belloc""
    }
}"
135,"2018-02-28 21:09:13","James Whitcomb Riley","{
    ""3192"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3192,
        ""poem.id"": 3192,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:56:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Over The Eyes Of Gladness"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3193"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3193,
        ""poem.id"": 3193,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:56:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Pan"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3194"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3194,
        ""poem.id"": 3194,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:56:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Plain Sermons"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3195"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3195,
        ""poem.id"": 3195,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:57:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Prior To Miss Belle's Appearance"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""3196"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3196,
        ""poem.id"": 3196,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:57:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Private Theatricals"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""3197"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3197,
        ""poem.id"": 3197,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:57:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Proem"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3198"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3198,
        ""poem.id"": 3198,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:57:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Reach Your Hand To Me"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3199,
        ""poem.id"": 3199,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:57:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Regardin' Terry Hut"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poem.id"": 3200,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:57:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Scraps"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3201,
        ""poem.id"": 3201,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:57:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""September Dark"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:57:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Silence"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3203,
        ""poem.id"": 3203,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:57:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sister Jones's Confession"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poem.id"": 3204,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:57:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sleep"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3205,
        ""poem.id"": 3205,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:57:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Some Scattering Remarks Of Bub's"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3206"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3206,
        ""poem.id"": 3206,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:57:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Some Songs After Master Singers"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3207"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3207,
        ""poem.id"": 3207,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:58:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3208,
        ""poem.id"": 3208,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:58:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Romancin'"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""3209"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3209,
        ""poem.id"": 3209,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:58:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""That Other Maud Muller"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3210,
        ""poem.id"": 3210,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:58:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Ancient Printman"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""3211"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3211,
        ""poem.id"": 3211,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:59:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Artemus Of Michigan"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3212"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3212,
        ""poem.id"": 3212,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:59:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Beautiful City"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""3213"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3213,
        ""poem.id"": 3213,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:59:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Best Is Good Enough"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3214"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3214,
        ""poem.id"": 3214,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:59:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Book Of Joyous Children"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3215"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3215,
        ""poem.id"": 3215,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:59:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Boy Lives On Our Farm"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3216"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3216,
        ""poem.id"": 3216,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:59:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Boys"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3217"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3217,
        ""poem.id"": 3217,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:59:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Boy's Candidate"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3218"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3218,
        ""poem.id"": 3218,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:59:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Child-World"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""3219"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3219,
        ""poem.id"": 3219,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:59:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Clover"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""3220"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3220,
        ""poem.id"": 3220,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:59:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Curse Of The Wandering Foot"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""3221"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3221,
        ""poem.id"": 3221,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:59:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Cyclone"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3222,
        ""poem.id"": 3222,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 09:59:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Dead Lover"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3223"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3223,
        ""poem.id"": 3223,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:00:01"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Frog"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3224"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3224,
        ""poem.id"": 3224,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:00:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Harp Of The Minstrel"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3225"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3225,
        ""poem.id"": 3225,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:00:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Hired Man And Floretty"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3226"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3226,
        ""poem.id"": 3226,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:00:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Jaybird"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""3227"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3227,
        ""poem.id"": 3227,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:00:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Jolly Miller"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3228"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3228,
        ""poem.id"": 3228,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:00:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Katydids"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3229"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3229,
        ""poem.id"": 3229,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:00:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Little Coat"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""3230"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3230,
        ""poem.id"": 3230,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:00:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Loehrs And The Hammonds"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""3231"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3231,
        ""poem.id"": 3231,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:00:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Mulberry Tree"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31252"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31252,
        ""poem.id"": 31252,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:53:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Old Days"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31253"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31253,
        ""poem.id"": 31253,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:53:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Orchard Lands Of Long Ago"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31254"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31254,
        ""poem.id"": 31254,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:53:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Passing Of A Heart"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31255"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31255,
        ""poem.id"": 31255,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:53:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Pathos Of Applause"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31256"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31256,
        ""poem.id"": 31256,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:53:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Plaint Human"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31257"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31257,
        ""poem.id"": 31257,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:53:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Quest"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31258"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31258,
        ""poem.id"": 31258,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:53:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Quiet Lodger"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31259,
        ""poem.id"": 31259,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:54:01"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Rambo-Tree"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31260"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31260,
        ""poem.id"": 31260,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:54:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Rider Of The Knee"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31261"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31261,
        ""poem.id"": 31261,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:54:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Serenade"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31262"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31262,
        ""poem.id"": 31262,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:54:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Shoemaker"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31263"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31263,
        ""poem.id"": 31263,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:54:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Silent Victors"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31264"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31264,
        ""poem.id"": 31264,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:54:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Singer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31265"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31265,
        ""poem.id"": 31265,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:54:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Squirtgun Uncle Maked Me"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31266"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31266,
        ""poem.id"": 31266,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:54:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Stepmother"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31267"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31267,
        ""poem.id"": 31267,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:54:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Touches Of Her Hand"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31268"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31268,
        ""poem.id"": 31268,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:54:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Town Karnteel"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31269"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31269,
        ""poem.id"": 31269,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:54:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Tree-Toad"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31270"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31270,
        ""poem.id"": 31270,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:54:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Twins"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31271"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31271,
        ""poem.id"": 31271,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:55:01"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Wandering Jew"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31272"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31272,
        ""poem.id"": 31272,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:55:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Thinkin' Back"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31273"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31273,
        ""poem.id"": 31273,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:55:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Thomas The Pretender"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31274"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31274,
        ""poem.id"": 31274,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:55:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Thoughts Fer The Discuraged Farmer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31275"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31275,
        ""poem.id"": 31275,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:55:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Three Dead Friends"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31276"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31276,
        ""poem.id"": 31276,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:55:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Through Sleepy-Land"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31277"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31277,
        ""poem.id"": 31277,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:55:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Time"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31278"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31278,
        ""poem.id"": 31278,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:55:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Time Of Clearer Twitterings"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31279"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31279,
        ""poem.id"": 31279,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:55:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To An Importunate Ghost"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31280"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31280,
        ""poem.id"": 31280,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:55:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Way It Wuz"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31281"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31281,
        ""poem.id"": 31281,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:55:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Wife-Blessed"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31282"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31282,
        ""poem.id"": 31282,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:55:47"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Their Sweet Sorrow"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31283"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31283,
        ""poem.id"": 31283,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:55:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Speeding Of The King's Spite"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31284"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31284,
        ""poem.id"": 31284,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:55:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To My Good Master"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31285"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31285,
        ""poem.id"": 31285,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:56:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To The Serenader"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31286"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31286,
        ""poem.id"": 31286,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:56:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Told By"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31287"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31287,
        ""poem.id"": 31287,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:56:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Tom Johnson's Quit"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31288"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31288,
        ""poem.id"": 31288,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:56:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Tom Van Arden"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31289"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31289,
        ""poem.id"": 31289,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:56:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Tugg Martin"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31290"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31290,
        ""poem.id"": 31290,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:56:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Uncle Mart's Poem"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31291"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31291,
        ""poem.id"": 31291,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:56:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Santa Claus"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31292"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31292,
        ""poem.id"": 31292,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:56:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Waitin' Fer The Cat To Die"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31293"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31293,
        ""poem.id"": 31293,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:56:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Want To Be Whur Mother Is"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31294"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31294,
        ""poem.id"": 31294,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:56:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Wash Lowry's Reminiscence"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31295"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31295,
        ""poem.id"": 31295,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:56:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Wet Weather Talk"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31296"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31296,
        ""poem.id"": 31296,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:56:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""What Chris'Mas Fetched The Wigginses"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31297"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31297,
        ""poem.id"": 31297,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:56:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""We Must Believe"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31298"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31298,
        ""poem.id"": 31298,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:57:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Drum"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": ""O the drum! There is someIntonation in thy grumMonotony of utterance that strikes the spirit dumb,As we hearThrough the clearAnd unclouded atmosphere,Thy palpitating syllables roll in upon the ear! There's a partOf the artOf thy music-throbbing heartThat thrills a something in us that awakens with a start,And in rhymeWith the chimeAnd exactitude of time,Goes marching on to glory to thy melody sublime.And the guestOf the breastThat thy rolling robs of restIs a patriotic spirit as a Continental dressed; And he loomsFrom the gloomsOf a century of tombs,And the blood he spilled at Lexington in living beauty blooms.And his eyesWear the guiseOf a purpose pure and wise,As the love of them is lifted to a something in the skiesThat is brightRed and white,With a blur of starry light,As it laughs in silken ripples to the breezes day and night.There are deepHushes creepO'er the pulses as they leap,As thy tumult, fainter growing, on the silence falls asleep,While the prayerRising thereWills the sea and earth and airAs a heritage to Freedom's sons and daughters everywhere.Then, with soundAs profoundAs the thunderings resound,Come thy wild reverberations in a throe that shakes the ground,And a cryFlung on high,Like the flag it flutters by,Wings rapturously upward till it nestles in the sky.O the drum! There is someIntonation in thy grumMonotony of utterance that strikes the spirit dumb,As we hearThrough the clearAnd unclouded atmosphere,Thy palpitating syllables roll in upon the ear!"",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31299"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31299,
        ""poem.id"": 31299,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:57:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""What Smith Knew About Farming"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31300"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31300,
        ""poem.id"": 31300,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:57:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""What The Wind Said"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31301"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31301,
        ""poem.id"": 31301,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:57:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Hear Her Sing"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31302"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31302,
        ""poem.id"": 31302,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:57:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Wait For The Morning"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31303"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31303,
        ""poem.id"": 31303,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:57:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To My Old Friend, William Leachman"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31304"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31304,
        ""poem.id"": 31304,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:57:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Them Flowers"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31305"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31305,
        ""poem.id"": 31305,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:57:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Train Misser"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31306"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31306,
        ""poem.id"": 31306,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:57:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The South Wind And The Sun"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31307"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31307,
        ""poem.id"": 31307,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:57:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Shower"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31308"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31308,
        ""poem.id"": 31308,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:57:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Rainy Morning"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31309"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31309,
        ""poem.id"": 31309,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:57:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Rose"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31310"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31310,
        ""poem.id"": 31310,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:57:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Old Year And The New"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31311"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31311,
        ""poem.id"": 31311,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:58:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Lost Path"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31312"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31312,
        ""poem.id"": 31312,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:58:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Little Lady"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31313"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31313,
        ""poem.id"": 31313,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:58:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Hoosier Folk-Child"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31314"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31314,
        ""poem.id"": 31314,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:58:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Evening Company"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31315"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31315,
        ""poem.id"": 31315,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:58:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Thanksgiving"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31316"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31316,
        ""poem.id"": 31316,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:58:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Chant Of The Cross-Bearing Child"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31317"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31317,
        ""poem.id"": 31317,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:58:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Boy Patriot"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31318"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31318,
        ""poem.id"": 31318,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:58:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Bat"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31319"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31319,
        ""poem.id"": 31319,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:58:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Robert Burns Wilson"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31320"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31320,
        ""poem.id"": 31320,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:58:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Philiper Flash"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31321"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31321,
        ""poem.id"": 31321,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:58:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Pipes O' Pan At Zekesbury"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31322"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31322,
        ""poem.id"": 31322,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:58:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Best Times"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31323"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31323,
        ""poem.id"": 31323,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:59:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Hoodoo"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31324"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31324,
        ""poem.id"": 31324,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:59:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Little Town O' Tailholt"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31325"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31325,
        ""poem.id"": 31325,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:59:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Old-Home Folks"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31326"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31326,
        ""poem.id"": 31326,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:59:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Old Tramp"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31327"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31327,
        ""poem.id"": 31327,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:59:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Pet Coon"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31328"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31328,
        ""poem.id"": 31328,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:59:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Same Old Story"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31329"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31329,
        ""poem.id"": 31329,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:59:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Sermon Of The Rose"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31330"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31330,
        ""poem.id"": 31330,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:59:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Annie"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31331"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31331,
        ""poem.id"": 31331,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:59:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To The Judge"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31332"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31332,
        ""poem.id"": 31332,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:59:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""When Age Comes On"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31333"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31333,
        ""poem.id"": 31333,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:59:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""We Are Not Always Glad When We Smile"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31334"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31334,
        ""poem.id"": 31334,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:59:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""James Whitcomb Riley"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/12/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31335"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31335,
        ""poem.id"": 31335,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:59:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Right Here At Home"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31336"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31336,
        ""poem.id"": 31336,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 18:59:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Red Riding-Hood"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31337"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31337,
        ""poem.id"": 31337,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:00:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Sphinx"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31338"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31338,
        ""poem.id"": 31338,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:00:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Watches Of The Night"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31339"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31339,
        ""poem.id"": 31339,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:00:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Rain"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31340"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31340,
        ""poem.id"": 31340,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:00:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Pixy People"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31341"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31341,
        ""poem.id"": 31341,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:00:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Old Trundle-Bed"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31342"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31342,
        ""poem.id"": 31342,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:00:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Lugubrious Whing-Whang"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31343"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31343,
        ""poem.id"": 31343,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:00:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Lost Kiss"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31344"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31344,
        ""poem.id"": 31344,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:00:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Old Home By The Mill"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31345,
        ""poem.id"": 31345,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:00:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Blossoms On The Trees"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31346,
        ""poem.id"": 31346,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:00:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Circus-Day Parade"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31347,
        ""poem.id"": 31347,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:00:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Runaway Boy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31348,
        ""poem.id"": 31348,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:00:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Hereafter"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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    ""31349"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31349,
        ""poem.id"": 31349,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:00:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Squire Hawkins's Story"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31350"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31350,
        ""poem.id"": 31350,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:00:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Robert Burns"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31351"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31351,
        ""poem.id"": 31351,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:01:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Up And Down Old Brandywine"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31352"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31352,
        ""poem.id"": 31352,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:01:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Treasure Of The Wise Man"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31353"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31353,
        ""poem.id"": 31353,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:01:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Lost Thrill"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31354"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31354,
        ""poem.id"": 31354,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:01:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Little Fat Doctor"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31355"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31355,
        ""poem.id"": 31355,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:01:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Old Hay-Mow"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31356"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31356,
        ""poem.id"": 31356,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:01:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Legend Glorified"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31357"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31357,
        ""poem.id"": 31357,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:01:21"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Say Something To Me"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31358"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31358,
        ""poem.id"": 31358,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:01:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Good, Old-Fashioned People"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31359,
        ""poem.id"": 31359,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:01:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Funny Little Fellow"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31360"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31360,
        ""poem.id"": 31360,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:01:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Brook-Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31361"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31361,
        ""poem.id"": 31361,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:01:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Song Of Parting"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31362"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31362,
        ""poem.id"": 31362,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:01:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Iron Horse"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31363,
        ""poem.id"": 31363,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:01:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Days Gone By"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31364,
        ""poem.id"": 31364,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:01:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Old Retired Sea Captain"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31365,
        ""poem.id"": 31365,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:01:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Home-Going"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31366,
        ""poem.id"": 31366,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:02:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""We Must Get Home"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31367"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31367,
        ""poem.id"": 31367,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:02:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Nine Little Goblins"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31368"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31368,
        ""poem.id"": 31368,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:02:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Happy Little Cripple"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31369,
        ""poem.id"": 31369,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:02:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Rival"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/4/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31370,
        ""poem.id"": 31370,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:02:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Rapture Of The Year"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31371,
        ""poem.id"": 31371,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:02:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The King"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31372,
        ""poem.id"": 31372,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:02:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Willow"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
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    ""31373"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31373,
        ""poem.id"": 31373,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:02:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""In Bohemia"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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    ""31374"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31374,
        ""poem.id"": 31374,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:02:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Song Of Yesterday"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31375"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31375,
        ""poem.id"": 31375,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:02:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""We To Sigh Instead Of Sing"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31376"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31376,
        ""poem.id"": 31376,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:02:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To A Boy Whistling"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31377"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31377,
        ""poem.id"": 31377,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:02:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""There Was A Cherry-Tree"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31378"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31378,
        ""poem.id"": 31378,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:02:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Little Dick And The Clock"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31379"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31379,
        ""poem.id"": 31379,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:03:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""In Fervent Praise Of Picnics"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31380"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31380,
        ""poem.id"": 31380,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:03:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Herr Weiser"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31381"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31381,
        ""poem.id"": 31381,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:03:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Her Waiting Face"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31382"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31382,
        ""poem.id"": 31382,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:03:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Floretty's Musical Contribution"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31383,
        ""poem.id"": 31383,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:03:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Farmer Whipple--Bachelor"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31384"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31384,
        ""poem.id"": 31384,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:03:21"",
        ""poem.title"": ""His Mother"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31385"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31385,
        ""poem.id"": 31385,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:03:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""George Mullen's Confession"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
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    ""31386"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31386,
        ""poem.id"": 31386,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:03:26"",
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        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31636"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31636,
        ""poem.id"": 31636,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:22:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Who Bides His Time"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31637"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31637,
        ""poem.id"": 31637,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:22:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Ike Walton's Prayer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31638"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31638,
        ""poem.id"": 31638,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:22:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Song Of The New Year"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31639"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31639,
        ""poem.id"": 31639,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:22:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Dream"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31640"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31640,
        ""poem.id"": 31640,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:22:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Country Pathway"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31641"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31641,
        ""poem.id"": 31641,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:22:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Dream Of Long Ago"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31642"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31642,
        ""poem.id"": 31642,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:22:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Passing Hail"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31643"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31643,
        ""poem.id"": 31643,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:22:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Dream"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31644"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31644,
        ""poem.id"": 31644,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:22:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Masque Of The Seasons"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31645"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31645,
        ""poem.id"": 31645,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:22:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Her Beautiful Eyes"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31646"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31646,
        ""poem.id"": 31646,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:22:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Our Hired Girl"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31647"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31647,
        ""poem.id"": 31647,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:22:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Away"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31648"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31648,
        ""poem.id"": 31648,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:22:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Song Of The Road"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31649"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31649,
        ""poem.id"": 31649,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:22:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Good Man"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31650"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31650,
        ""poem.id"": 31650,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:23:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Liberty"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31651"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31651,
        ""poem.id"": 31651,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:23:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Parting Guest"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/4/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31652"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31652,
        ""poem.id"": 31652,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:23:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Poet's Wooing"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31653"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31653,
        ""poem.id"": 31653,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:23:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Granny"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31654"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31654,
        ""poem.id"": 31654,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:23:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Cup Of Tea"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/9/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31655"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31655,
        ""poem.id"": 31655,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:23:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Noon Interval"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31656"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31656,
        ""poem.id"": 31656,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:23:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Knee-Deep In June"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Tell you what I like the best -- 'Long about knee-deep in June, 'Bout the time strawberries melts On the vine, -- some afternoon Like to jes' git out and rest, And not work at nothin' else! Orchard's where I'd ruther be -- Needn't fence it in fer me! -- Jes' the whole sky overhead, And the whole airth underneath -- Sort o' so's a man kin breathe Like he ort, and kind o' has Elbow-room to keerlessly Sprawl out len'thways on the grass Where the shadders thick and soft As the kivvers on the bed Mother fixes in the loft Allus, when they's company! Jes' a-sort o' lazin there - S'lazy, 'at you peek and peer Through the wavin' leaves above, Like a feller 'ats in love And don't know it, ner don't keer! Ever'thing you hear and see Got some sort o' interest - Maybe find a bluebird's nest Tucked up there conveenently Fer the boy 'at's ap' to be Up some other apple tree! Watch the swallers skootin' past Bout as peert as you could ast; Er the Bob-white raise and whiz Where some other's whistle is. Ketch a shadder down below, And look up to find the crow -- Er a hawk, - away up there, 'Pearantly froze in the air! -- Hear the old hen squawk, and squat Over ever' chick she's got, Suddent-like! - and she knows where That-air hawk is, well as you! -- You jes' bet yer life she do! -- Eyes a-glitterin' like glass, Waitin' till he makes a pass! Pee-wees wingin', to express My opinion, 's second-class, Yit you'll hear 'em more er less; Sapsucks gittin' down to biz, Weedin' out the lonesomeness; Mr. Bluejay, full o' sass, In them baseball clothes o' his, Sportin' round the orchad jes' Like he owned the premises! Sun out in the fields kin sizz, But flat on yer back, I guess, In the shade's where glory is! That's jes' what I'd like to do Stiddy fer a year er two! Plague! Ef they ain't somepin' in Work 'at kind o' goes ag'in' My convictions! - 'long about Here in June especially! -- Under some ole apple tree, Jes' a-restin through and through, I could git along without Nothin' else at all to do Only jes' a-wishin' you Wuz a-gittin' there like me, And June wuz eternity! Lay out there and try to see Jes' how lazy you kin be! -- Tumble round and souse yer head In the clover-bloom, er pull Yer straw hat acrost yer eyes And peek through it at the skies, Thinkin' of old chums 'ats dead, Maybe, smilin' back at you In betwixt the beautiful Clouds o'gold and white and blue! -- Month a man kin railly love -- June, you know, I'm talkin' of! March ain't never nothin' new! -- April's altogether too Brash fer me! and May -- I jes' 'Bominate its promises, -- Little hints o' sunshine and Green around the timber-land -- A few blossoms, and a few Chip-birds, and a sprout er two, -- Drap asleep, and it turns in Fore daylight and snows ag'in! -- But when June comes - Clear my th'oat With wild honey! -- Rench my hair In the dew! And hold my coat! Whoop out loud! And th'ow my hat! -- June wants me, and I'm to spare! Spread them shadders anywhere, I'll get down and waller there, And obleeged to you at that!"",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31657"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31657,
        ""poem.id"": 31657,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:23:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Summer Afternoon"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31658"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31658,
        ""poem.id"": 31658,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:23:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Barefoot Boy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31659"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31659,
        ""poem.id"": 31659,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:23:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Little Orphant Annie"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": ""To all the little children: -- The happy ones; and sad ones;The sober and the silent ones; the boisterous and glad ones;The good ones -- Yes, the good ones, too; and all the lovely bad ones. Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;An' all us other childern, when the supper-things is done,We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest funA-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits youEf youDon'tWatchOut! Wunst they wuz a little boy wouldn't say his prayers,--An' when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs,His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl,An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wuzn't there at all!An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press,An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'-wheres, I guess;But all they ever found wuz thist his pants an' roundabout:--An' the Gobble-uns 'll git youEf youDon'tWatchOut! An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin,An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin;An' wunst, when they was 'company,' an' ole folks wuz there,She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,They wuz two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about!An' the Gobble-uns 'll git youEf youDon'tWatchOut! An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,--You better mind yer parunts, an' yer teachurs fond an' dear,An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about,Er the Gobble-uns 'll git youEf youDon'tWatchOut!"",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31660"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31660,
        ""poem.id"": 31660,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:23:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""When The Frost Is On The Punkin"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2002"",
        ""poem.content"": ""When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shockAnd you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey cockAnd the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hensAnd the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fenceO, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his bestWith the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful restAs he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stockWhen the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the treesAnd the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the beesBut the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock. The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn, And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn; The stubble in the furries kindo' lonesome-like, but still A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill; The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed; The hosses in theyr stalls below the clover over-head! O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock, When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock! Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps; And your cider-makin' 's over, and your wimmern-folks is through With their mince and apple butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too!I don't know how to tell it but ef sich a thing could be As the Angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me I'd want to 'commodate 'em all the whole-indurin' flockWhen the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!"",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    },
    ""31661"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31661,
        ""poem.id"": 31661,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:23:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Life-Lesson"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Whitcomb Riley""
    }
}"
136,"2018-02-28 21:09:23","James Joyce","{
    ""3232"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3232,
        ""poem.id"": 3232,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:00:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Man"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/9/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Are you not weary of ardent ways, Lure of the fallen seraphim? Tell no more of enchanted days. Your eyes have set man's heart ablaze And you have had your will of him. Are you not weary of ardent ways? Above the flame the smoke of praise Goes up from ocean rim to rim. Tell no more of enchanted days. Our broken cries and mournful lays Rise in one eucharistic hymn. Are you not weary of ardent ways? While sacrificing hands upraise The chalice flowing to the brim, Tell no more of enchanted days. And still you hold our longing gaze With languorous look and lavish limb! Are you not weary of ardent ways? Tell no more of enchanted days."",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
    },
    ""3233"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3233,
        ""poem.id"": 3233,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:00:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From 'Ulysses'"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/3/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""There's a ponderous pundit MacHughWho wears goggles of ebony hue.As he mostly sees doubleTo wear them why trouble?I can't see the Joe Miller. Can you?"",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
    },
    ""3234"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3234,
        ""poem.id"": 3234,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:00:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Villanelle Of The Temptress"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/9/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Are you not weary of ardent ways,Lure of the fallen seraphim?Tell no more of enchanted days.Your eyes have set man's heart ablazeAnd you have had your will of him.Are you not weary of ardent ways?Above the flame the smoke of praiseGoes up from ocean rim to rim.Tell no more of enchanted days.Our broken cries and mournful laysRise in one eucharistic hymn.Are you not weary of ardent ways?While sacrificing hands upraiseThe chalice flowing to the brim,Tell no more of enchanted days.And still you hold our longing gazeWith languorous look and lavish limb!Are you not weary of ardent ways?Tell no more of enchanted days."",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
    },
    ""3235"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3235,
        ""poem.id"": 3235,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:01:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/2/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
    },
    ""3236"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3236,
        ""poem.id"": 3236,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:01:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Watching The Needleboats At San Sabba"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
    },
    ""3237"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3237,
        ""poem.id"": 3237,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:01:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Though I Thy Mithridates Were"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
    },
    ""3238"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3238,
        ""poem.id"": 3238,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:01:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Tutto È Sciolto"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
    },
    ""3239"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3239,
        ""poem.id"": 3239,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:01:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Thou Leanest To The Shell Of Night"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
    },
    ""3240"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3240,
        ""poem.id"": 3240,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:01:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Silently She's Combing"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
    },
    ""3241"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3241,
        ""poem.id"": 3241,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:01:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Now, O Now In This Brown Land"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
    },
    ""3242"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3242,
        ""poem.id"": 3242,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:01:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Ballad Of Persse O'Reilly"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
    },
    ""3243"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3243,
        ""poem.id"": 3243,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:01:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""O, It Was Out By Donnycarney"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
    },
    ""3244"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3244,
        ""poem.id"": 3244,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:01:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Of That So Sweet Imprisonment"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
    },
    ""3245"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3245,
        ""poem.id"": 3245,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:01:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""What Counsel Has The Hooded Moon"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
    },
    ""3246"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3246,
        ""poem.id"": 3246,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:01:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""O Cool Is The Valley Now"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
    },
    ""3247"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3247,
        ""poem.id"": 3247,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:01:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""O Sweetheart, Hear You"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
    },
    ""3248"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3248,
        ""poem.id"": 3248,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:01:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Tilly"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
    },
    ""3249"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3249,
        ""poem.id"": 3249,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:02:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""On The Beach At Fontana"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3250,
        ""poem.id"": 3250,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:02:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Who Goes Amid The Green Wood"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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    ""3251"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3251,
        ""poem.id"": 3251,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:02:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""When The Shy Star Goes Forth In Heaven"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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        ""poem.id"": 3252,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:02:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Simples"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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    ""3253"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3253,
        ""poem.id"": 3253,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:02:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Winds Of May"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:02:21"",
        ""poem.title"": ""This Heart That Flutters Near My Heart"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:02:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""She Weeps Over Rahoon"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:02:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Strings In The Earth And Air"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:02:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My Love Is In A Light Attire"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:02:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Twilight Turns"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:02:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Rain Has Fallen All The Day"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:02:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""He Who Hath Glory Lost"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:02:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Bright Cap And Streamers"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:02:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Memory Of The Players In A Mirror At Midnight"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:03:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Would In That Sweet Bosom Be"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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    ""3264"": {
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        ""poem.title"": ""Bahnhofstrasse"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3265,
        ""poem.id"": 3265,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:03:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Love Came To Us"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3266,
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:03:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Lightly Come Or Lightly Go"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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        ""poem.id"": 3267,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:03:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From Dewy Dreams"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3268,
        ""poem.id"": 3268,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:03:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Bid Adieu To Maidenhood"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.id"": 3269,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:03:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Dear Heart, Why Will You Use Me So?"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:03:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""In The Dark Pine-Wood"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:03:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Night Piece"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31702,
        ""poem.id"": 31702,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:23:47"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Lean Out Of The Window"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.id"": 31703,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:23:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Go Seek Her Out"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Joyce""
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    ""31704"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31704,
        ""poem.id"": 31704,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:23:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sleep Now, O Sleep Now"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31705,
        ""poem.id"": 31705,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:23:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Prayer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.id"": 31706,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:24:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Gentle Lady, Do Not Sing"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:24:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""At That Hour"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31708,
        ""poem.id"": 31708,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:24:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Ecce Puer"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Flood"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31710,
        ""poem.id"": 31710,
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        ""poem.title"": ""I Hear An Army Charging Upon The Land"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31711,
        ""poem.id"": 31711,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:24:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Flower Given To My Daughter"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31712,
        ""poem.id"": 31712,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:24:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Because Your Voice Was At My Side"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31713,
        ""poem.id"": 31713,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:24:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My Dove, My Beautiful One"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31714,
        ""poem.id"": 31714,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:24:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Alone"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31715,
        ""poem.id"": 31715,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:24:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Be Not Sad"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.id"": 31716,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:24:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""All Day I Hear The Noise Of Waters"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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}"
137,"2018-02-28 21:10:05","Johann Wolfgang von Goeth","{
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        ""poem.title"": ""To My Friend - Ode Ii"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:04:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Mignon"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.id"": 3285,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:04:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To The Kind Reader"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3286,
        ""poem.id"": 3286,
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        ""poem.title"": ""The Stork's Vocation"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:04:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Unequal Marriage"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:05:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Pariah - Legend"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3289,
        ""poem.id"": 3289,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:05:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To The Grasshopper"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:05:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Charlotte"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.id"": 3291,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:05:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Father Kronos"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3292,
        ""poem.id"": 3292,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:05:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Lina"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:05:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The New Amor"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.id"": 3294,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:05:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Walking Bell"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:05:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Friendly Meeting"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3296,
        ""poem.id"": 3296,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:05:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Mountain Castle"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""3297"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3297,
        ""poem.id"": 3297,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:05:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Pariah - The Pariah's Prayer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""3298"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3298,
        ""poem.id"": 3298,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:05:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Muses' Son"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""3299"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3299,
        ""poem.id"": 3299,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:06:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To His Coy One"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""3300"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3300,
        ""poem.id"": 3300,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:06:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Lida"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""3301"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3301,
        ""poem.id"": 3301,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:06:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Treasure Digger"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""3302"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3302,
        ""poem.id"": 3302,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:06:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Yelpers"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3303,
        ""poem.id"": 3303,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:06:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Three Palinodias - 02 Conflict Of Wit And Beauty"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3304,
        ""poem.id"": 3304,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:06:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Valediction"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3305,
        ""poem.id"": 3305,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:06:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Traveller And The Farm-Maiden"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3306,
        ""poem.id"": 3306,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:06:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Threatening Signs"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3307,
        ""poem.id"": 3307,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:06:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Pupil In Magic"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3308,
        ""poem.id"": 3308,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:06:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Originals"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3309,
        ""poem.id"": 3309,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:06:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Same"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""3310"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3310,
        ""poem.id"": 3310,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:06:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Three Palinodias - 03 Rain And Rainbow"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3311,
        ""poem.id"": 3311,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:07:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Spinner"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31757"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31757,
        ""poem.id"": 31757,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:24:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To My Friend - Ode I"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31758,
        ""poem.id"": 31758,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:24:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Belinda"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31759,
        ""poem.id"": 31759,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:24:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Wanderer's Storm-Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31760,
        ""poem.id"": 31760,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:25:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Spring Oracle"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31761"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31761,
        ""poem.id"": 31761,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:25:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Sea-Voyage"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31762,
        ""poem.id"": 31762,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:25:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Soldier's Consolation"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31763,
        ""poem.id"": 31763,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:25:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Rat-Catcher"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31764,
        ""poem.id"": 31764,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:25:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To The Golden Heart That He Wore Around His Neck"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31765,
        ""poem.id"": 31765,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:25:21"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Page And The Miller's Daughter"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31766,
        ""poem.id"": 31766,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:25:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Luna"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31767,
        ""poem.id"": 31767,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:25:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To My Friend - Ode Iii"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31768,
        ""poem.id"": 31768,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:25:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Wedding"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31769,
        ""poem.id"": 31769,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:25:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Trilogy Of Passion 02 Elegy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31770,
        ""poem.id"": 31770,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:25:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Wanderer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31771,
        ""poem.id"": 31771,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:25:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Rule Of Life Expanded"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31772,
        ""poem.id"": 31772,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:25:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Visit"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31773,
        ""poem.id"": 31773,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:25:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Thoughts On Jesus Christ's Decent Into Hell"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31774,
        ""poem.id"": 31774,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:26:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Youth And The Millstream"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31775,
        ""poem.id"": 31775,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:26:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Trilogy Of Passion 01 To Werther"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31776,
        ""poem.id"": 31776,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:26:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To The Chosen One"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31777,
        ""poem.id"": 31777,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:26:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Warning"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31778,
        ""poem.id"": 31778,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:26:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Trilogy Of Passion 03 Atonement"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31779,
        ""poem.id"": 31779,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:26:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Violet"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31780,
        ""poem.id"": 31780,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:26:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To The Distant One"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31781,
        ""poem.id"": 31781,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:26:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Shepherd's Lament"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31782,
        ""poem.id"": 31782,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:26:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Remembrance Of The Good"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31783,
        ""poem.id"": 31783,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:26:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Wedding Night"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31784,
        ""poem.id"": 31784,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:26:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Wanderer's Night-Song"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31785,
        ""poem.id"": 31785,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:26:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To The Rising Full Moon"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31786,
        ""poem.id"": 31786,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:26:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The German Parnassus"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31787,
        ""poem.id"": 31787,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:27:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""True Enjoyment"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31788,
        ""poem.id"": 31788,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:27:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Reckoning"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31789,
        ""poem.id"": 31789,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:27:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To The Moon"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31790,
        ""poem.id"": 31790,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:27:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Rule Of Life"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31791,
        ""poem.id"": 31791,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:27:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Heathrose"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31792,
        ""poem.id"": 31792,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:27:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Hunter's Even-Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31793,
        ""poem.id"": 31793,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:27:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Musagetes"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31794,
        ""poem.id"": 31794,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:27:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Goblet"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31795,
        ""poem.id"": 31795,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:27:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Minstrel"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31796,
        ""poem.id"": 31796,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:27:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Happy Couple"",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31797,
        ""poem.id"": 31797,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:27:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Instructors"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31798,
        ""poem.id"": 31798,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:27:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Magic Net"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31799,
        ""poem.id"": 31799,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:27:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Friendly Meeting"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31800,
        ""poem.id"": 31800,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:27:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Garlands"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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    ""31801"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31801,
        ""poem.id"": 31801,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:27:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The King Of Thule"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31802"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31802,
        ""poem.id"": 31802,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:28:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Misanthrope"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31803"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31803,
        ""poem.id"": 31803,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:28:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Drops Of Nectar"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31804"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31804,
        ""poem.id"": 31804,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:28:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Maid Of The Mill's Repentance"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31805"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31805,
        ""poem.id"": 31805,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:28:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Metamorphosis Of Plants"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31806"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31806,
        ""poem.id"": 31806,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:28:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Goldsmith's Apprentice"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31807"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31807,
        ""poem.id"": 31807,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:28:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Legend Of The Horseshoe"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31808"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31808,
        ""poem.id"": 31808,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:28:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Frogs"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31809"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31809,
        ""poem.id"": 31809,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:28:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Muse's Mirror"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31810"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31810,
        ""poem.id"": 31810,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:28:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Mountain Village"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31811"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31811,
        ""poem.id"": 31811,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:28:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Vanitas! Vanitatum Vanitas!"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31812"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31812,
        ""poem.id"": 31812,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:28:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""General Confession"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31813"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31813,
        ""poem.id"": 31813,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:28:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hermann And Dorothea - Ix. Urania"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31814"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31814,
        ""poem.id"": 31814,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:29:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hermann And Dorothea - V. Polyhymnia"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31815"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31815,
        ""poem.id"": 31815,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:29:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hermann And Dorothea - Vi. Klio"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31816"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31816,
        ""poem.id"": 31816,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:29:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From Faust - Second Part - I."",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31817"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31817,
        ""poem.id"": 31817,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:29:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hermann And Dorothea - I. Kalliope"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31818"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31818,
        ""poem.id"": 31818,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:29:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hermann And Dorothea - Iii. Thalia"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31819"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31819,
        ""poem.id"": 31819,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:29:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Parables - Bulbul's Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/3/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31820"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31820,
        ""poem.id"": 31820,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:29:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hermann And Dorothea - Ii. Terpsichore"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31821"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31821,
        ""poem.id"": 31821,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:29:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sound, Sweet Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31822"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31822,
        ""poem.id"": 31822,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:29:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From Faust - Vii. Margaret, Placing Fresh Flowers In The Flower-Pots."",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31823"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31823,
        ""poem.id"": 31823,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:29:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Convivial Book - Can The Koran From Eternity Be?"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31824"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31824,
        ""poem.id"": 31824,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:29:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Suleika - Suleika 01"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31825"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31825,
        ""poem.id"": 31825,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:29:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Swiss Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31826"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31826,
        ""poem.id"": 31826,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:29:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hatem"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31827"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31827,
        ""poem.id"": 31827,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:29:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hermann And Dorothea - Vii. Erato"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31828"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31828,
        ""poem.id"": 31828,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:29:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From Iphigenia In Tauris"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31829"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31829,
        ""poem.id"": 31829,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:30:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Wont And Done"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31830"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31830,
        ""poem.id"": 31830,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:30:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Loving One Writes"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31831"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31831,
        ""poem.id"": 31831,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:30:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Suleika - The Loving One Again"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31832"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31832,
        ""poem.id"": 31832,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:30:17"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hermann And Dorothea - Viii. Melpomene"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31833"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31833,
        ""poem.id"": 31833,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:30:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Fox And The Crane"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31834"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31834,
        ""poem.id"": 31834,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:30:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Brethren"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31835"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31835,
        ""poem.id"": 31835,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:30:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Tame Xenia"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31836"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31836,
        ""poem.id"": 31836,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:30:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Table Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31837"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31837,
        ""poem.id"": 31837,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:30:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Best"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31838"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31838,
        ""poem.id"": 31838,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:30:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Who'Ll Buy Gods Of Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31839"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31839,
        ""poem.id"": 31839,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:30:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Book Of Paradise - The Favoured Beast"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31840"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31840,
        ""poem.id"": 31840,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:30:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Parables - It Is Good"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/3/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31841"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31841,
        ""poem.id"": 31841,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:30:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Self-Deceit"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31842"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31842,
        ""poem.id"": 31842,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:30:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Symbols"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31843"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31843,
        ""poem.id"": 31843,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:30:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""When I Was Still A Youthful Wight"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31844"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31844,
        ""poem.id"": 31844,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:31:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Convivial Book - Ye'Ve Often, For Our Drunkenness,"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31845"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31845,
        ""poem.id"": 31845,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:31:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Parables - All Kinds Of Men"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/3/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31846"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31846,
        ""poem.id"": 31846,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:31:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hermann And Dorothea - Iv. Euterpe"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31847"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31847,
        ""poem.id"": 31847,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:31:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From Gotz Von Berlichingen"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31848"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31848,
        ""poem.id"": 31848,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:31:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sicilian Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31849"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31849,
        ""poem.id"": 31849,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:31:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Parables - From Heaven There Fell Upon The Foaming Wave"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/3/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31850"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31850,
        ""poem.id"": 31850,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:31:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Suleika - Hatem 03"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31851"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31851,
        ""poem.id"": 31851,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:31:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Leopold, Duke Of Brunswick"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31852"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31852,
        ""poem.id"": 31852,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:31:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From Faust - Vi. Scene--A Garden"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31853"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31853,
        ""poem.id"": 31853,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:31:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Hafis - To Hafis"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31854"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31854,
        ""poem.id"": 31854,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:31:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Suleika - Suleika 04"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31855"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31855,
        ""poem.id"": 31855,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:31:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From Faust - V. Margaret At Her Spinning-Wheel"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31856"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31856,
        ""poem.id"": 31856,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:32:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Book Of Paradise - The Seven Sleepers"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31857"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31857,
        ""poem.id"": 31857,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:32:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Parables - In The Koran With Strange Delight"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/3/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31858"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31858,
        ""poem.id"": 31858,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:32:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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    ""31859"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31859,
        ""poem.id"": 31859,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:32:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Should E'Er The Loveless Day"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31860"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31860,
        ""poem.id"": 31860,
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        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Suleika - Hatem 02"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Songs"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:32:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Paradise - The Privileged Men"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""The Farewell"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:32:56"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""When The Fox Dies, His Skin Counts"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Hafis - The Unlimited"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""She Cannot End"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Sir Curt's Wedding-Journey"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Different Threats"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""The God And The Bayadere - An Indian Legend"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Paulo Post Futuri"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""The Godlike"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""On The New Year"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""From"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Minstrel's Book - Discord"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Minstrel's Book - The Four Favours"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Coptic Song"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Such, Such Is He Who Pleaseth Me"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Departure"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Found"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Legend"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Charade"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Growth"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:36:17"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Rhymed Distichs"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:36:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Idyll"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:36:30"",
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        ""poem.id"": 31920,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:36:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Doubters And The Lovers"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31921"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31921,
        ""poem.id"": 31921,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:36:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sameness"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31922"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31922,
        ""poem.id"": 31922,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:36:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Loving One Once More"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31923"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31923,
        ""poem.id"": 31923,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:36:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Different Emotions On The Same Spot"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31924"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31924,
        ""poem.id"": 31924,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:36:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Suleika - The Loving One Speaks"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poem.id"": 31925,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:36:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Exchange"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31926"": {
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        ""poem.id"": 31926,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:37:01"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Convert"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poem.id"": 31927,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:37:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Dedication - The Poems Of Goeth"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.title"": ""The Destruction Of Magdeburg"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:37:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Maiden Wishes"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:37:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Proximity"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:37:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Open Table"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Ginkgo Biloba"",
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        ""poem.id"": 31933,
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        ""poem.title"": ""From Faust - Iv. Chorus Of Spirits"",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31934,
        ""poem.id"": 31934,
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        ""poem.title"": ""Death-Lament Of The Noble Wife Of Asan Aga"",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31935,
        ""poem.id"": 31935,
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        ""poem.title"": ""Excuse"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:37:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Morning Lament"",
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        ""poem.id"": 31937,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:38:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Suleika - Suleika 02"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poem.id"": 31938,
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        ""poem.title"": ""May"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Suleika - The Sublime Type"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Spirit Song Over The Waters"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:38:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Suleika - Suleika 03"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Royal Prayer"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""In Summer"",
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        ""poem.id"": 31944,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:38:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mahomet's Song"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:38:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Epiphanias"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:38:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Epochs"",
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        ""poem.id"": 31947,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:38:47"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Rules For Monarchs"",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31948,
        ""poem.id"": 31948,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:38:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From"",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31949,
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:38:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Neither This Nor That"",
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    ""31950"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31950,
        ""poem.id"": 31950,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:39:01"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Boundaries Of Humanity"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:39:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Christmas-Box"",
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        ""poem.id"": 31952,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:39:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From Faust - I. Dedication"",
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        ""poem.id"": 31953,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:39:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Minstrel's Book - Talismans"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:39:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Living Remembrance"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:39:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Venetian Epigrams I"",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31956,
        ""poem.id"": 31956,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:39:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Suleika - In Thousand Form"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31957,
        ""poem.id"": 31957,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:39:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""It Is Good"",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31958,
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:39:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Effects At A Distance"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:39:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Fortune Of War"",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31960,
        ""poem.id"": 31960,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:39:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Lily's Menagerie"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:39:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Presence"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:39:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""May Song Ii"",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31963,
        ""poem.id"": 31963,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:39:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Beauteous Flower - Son Of The Imprisioned Count"",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31964,
        ""poem.id"": 31964,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:39:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Christel"",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31965,
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:39:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Bliss Of Absence"",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31966,
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:40:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Old Age"",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31967,
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:40:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Winter Journey Over The Hartz Mountain"",
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    ""31968"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31968,
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:40:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""For Ever"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.id"": 31969,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:40:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sakontala"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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    ""31970"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31970,
        ""poem.id"": 31970,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:40:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Reciprocal"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31971,
        ""poem.id"": 31971,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:40:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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    ""31972"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31972,
        ""poem.id"": 31972,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:40:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Timur - To Suleika"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""31973"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31973,
        ""poem.id"": 31973,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:40:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Burial"",
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    ""31974"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31974,
        ""poem.id"": 31974,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:40:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Procemion"",
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    ""31975"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31975,
        ""poem.id"": 31975,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:40:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Proverbs"",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31976,
        ""poem.id"": 31976,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:40:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""November Song"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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    ""31977"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31977,
        ""poem.id"": 31977,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:40:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""River Lilies"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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    ""31978"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31978,
        ""poem.id"": 31978,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:41:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Finnish Song"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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    ""31979"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31979,
        ""poem.id"": 31979,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:41:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Explanation Of An Ancient Woodcut"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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    ""31980"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 31980,
        ""poem.id"": 31980,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:41:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Gloom"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Suleika - Hatem 01"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Mischievous Joy"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Solitude"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Nemesis"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Petition"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Ganymede"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Welcome And Farewell"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Poetry"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:45:03"",
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        ""poem.id"": 32033,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:45:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Love - One More Pair"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:45:25"",
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        ""poem.id"": 32036,
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        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Contemplation - For Woman"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:45:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Night Thoughts"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Lover In All Shapes"",
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        ""poem.id"": 32040,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:45:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Restless Love"",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32041,
        ""poem.id"": 32041,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:45:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Longing"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32042"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32042,
        ""poem.id"": 32042,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:45:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""First Loss"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32043"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32043,
        ""poem.id"": 32043,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:46:01"",
        ""poem.title"": ""March"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32044"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32044,
        ""poem.id"": 32044,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:46:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Authors"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""32045"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32045,
        ""poem.id"": 32045,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:46:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""As Broad As It's Long"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32046"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32046,
        ""poem.id"": 32046,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:46:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Before A Court Of Justice"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""32047"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32047,
        ""poem.id"": 32047,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:46:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Admonition"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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    ""32048"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32048,
        ""poem.id"": 32048,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:46:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Roman Elegies I"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/21/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32049"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32049,
        ""poem.id"": 32049,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:46:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Blindman's Buff"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32050"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32050,
        ""poem.id"": 32050,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:46:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Courage"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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    ""32051"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32051,
        ""poem.id"": 32051,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:46:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Happiness And Vision"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32052,
        ""poem.id"": 32052,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:46:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Next Year's Spring"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32053"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32053,
        ""poem.id"": 32053,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:46:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Answers In A Game Of Questions"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32054"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32054,
        ""poem.id"": 32054,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:46:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Ballad Of The Banished And Returning Count"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32055"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32055,
        ""poem.id"": 32055,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:46:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Contemplation - Firdusi"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32056"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32056,
        ""poem.id"": 32056,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:46:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Contemplation - Five Things"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32057"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32057,
        ""poem.id"": 32057,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:47:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Another"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32058"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32058,
        ""poem.id"": 32058,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:47:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mignon"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/21/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32059"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32059,
        ""poem.id"": 32059,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:47:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Farewell"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32060"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32060,
        ""poem.id"": 32060,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:47:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Symbol"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""32061"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32061,
        ""poem.id"": 32061,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:47:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Anniversary Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""32062"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32062,
        ""poem.id"": 32062,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:47:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Anacreon's Grave"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""32063"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32063,
        ""poem.id"": 32063,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:47:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Country Schoolmaster"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""32064"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32064,
        ""poem.id"": 32064,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:47:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Suleika - Love For Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32065"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32065,
        ""poem.id"": 32065,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:47:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Plan The Muses Entertained"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32066"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32066,
        ""poem.id"": 32066,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:47:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Apparent Death"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32067"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32067,
        ""poem.id"": 32067,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:47:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Parable"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32068"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32068,
        ""poem.id"": 32068,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:47:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Book Of Love - Love's Torments"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32069"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32069,
        ""poem.id"": 32069,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:47:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Dance Of Death"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32070"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32070,
        ""poem.id"": 32070,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:47:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""At Midnight Hour"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32071"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32071,
        ""poem.id"": 32071,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:47:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""April"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/21/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32072"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32072,
        ""poem.id"": 32072,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:48:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Autumn Feelings"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32073"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32073,
        ""poem.id"": 32073,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:48:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Legacy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/3/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32074"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32074,
        ""poem.id"": 32074,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:48:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Prometheus"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
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    ""32075"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32075,
        ""poem.id"": 32075,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:48:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""After-Sensations"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    },
    ""32076"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32076,
        ""poem.id"": 32076,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:48:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Erl-King"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Johann Wolfgang von Goethe""
    }
}"
138,"2018-02-28 00:55:25","Kamala Das","{
    ""3312"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3312,
        ""poem.id"": 3312,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:07:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Winter"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3313"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3313,
        ""poem.id"": 3313,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:07:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Maggots"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3314"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3314,
        ""poem.id"": 3314,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:07:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Testing Of The Sirens"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3315"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3315,
        ""poem.id"": 3315,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:07:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Annette"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3316"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3316,
        ""poem.id"": 3316,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:07:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Stone Age"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3317"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3317,
        ""poem.id"": 3317,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:07:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Krishna"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3318"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3318,
        ""poem.id"": 3318,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:07:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Sunshine Cat"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3319"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3319,
        ""poem.id"": 3319,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:07:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Dance Of The Eunuchs"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3320"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3320,
        ""poem.id"": 3320,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:07:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Suicide"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3321"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3321,
        ""poem.id"": 3321,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:07:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Freaks"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3322"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3322,
        ""poem.id"": 3322,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:07:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Relationship"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3323"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3323,
        ""poem.id"": 3323,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:07:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Forest Fire"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3324"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3324,
        ""poem.id"": 3324,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:07:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Rain"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3325"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3325,
        ""poem.id"": 3325,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:08:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3326"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3326,
        ""poem.id"": 3326,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:08:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Losing Battle"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3327"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3327,
        ""poem.id"": 3327,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:08:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Punishment In Kindergarten"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3328"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3328,
        ""poem.id"": 3328,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:08:21"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Summer In Calcutta"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3329"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3329,
        ""poem.id"": 3329,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:08:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Old Playhouse"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3330"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3330,
        ""poem.id"": 3330,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:08:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""In Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3331"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3331,
        ""poem.id"": 3331,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:08:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Words"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3332"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3332,
        ""poem.id"": 3332,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:08:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My Grandmother's House"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3333"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3333,
        ""poem.id"": 3333,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:08:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Looking Glass"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    },
    ""3334"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3334,
        ""poem.id"": 3334,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:08:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""An Introduction"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Kamala Das""
    }
}"
139,"2018-02-28 00:55:29","Jack Kerouac","{
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3335,
        ""poem.id"": 3335,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:08:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Harpo Marx"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/12/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""O Harpo! When did you seem like an angelthe last time?and played the gray harp of gold?When did you steal the silverwareand bug-spray the guests?When did your brother find rainin you sunny courtyard?When did you chase your last blondeacross the Millionaires' lawnwith a bait hook on a lineprotruding from your bicycle?Or when last you powderpuffedyour white flour facewith fishbarrel cover?Harpo! Who was that LionI saw you with?How did you treat the midgetand Konk the Giant?Harpo, in your recent nightclub appearancein New Orleans were you old?were you still chiding with your hornin the cane at your golden belt?Did you still emerge from your pocketsanother Harpo, or screw onnew wrists?Was your vow of silence an Indian Harp?"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3336"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3336,
        ""poem.id"": 3336,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:08:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Haiku (Holding Up My)"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/8/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Holding up mypurring cat to the moonI sighed."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3337"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3337,
        ""poem.id"": 3337,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:09:01"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Taste"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/4/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3338"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3338,
        ""poem.id"": 3338,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:09:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Snow In My Shoe"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/8/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Snow in my shoeAbandonedSparrow's nest"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3339"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3339,
        ""poem.id"": 3339,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:09:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Tenorman"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/4/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3340"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3340,
        ""poem.id"": 3340,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:09:17"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Scripture Of The Golden Eternity"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/4/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3341"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3341,
        ""poem.id"": 3341,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:09:21"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Trees"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/4/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3342"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3342,
        ""poem.id"": 3342,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:09:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""One Flower"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/4/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3343"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3343,
        ""poem.id"": 3343,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:09:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""3rd Chorus Mexico City Blues"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3344"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3344,
        ""poem.id"": 3344,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:09:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""4th Chorus Mexico City Blues"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3345"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3345,
        ""poem.id"": 3345,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:09:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""On Tears"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/4/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3346"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3346,
        ""poem.id"": 3346,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:09:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""241st Chorus"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3347"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3347,
        ""poem.id"": 3347,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:09:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""1st Chorus Mexico City Blues"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3348"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3348,
        ""poem.id"": 3348,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:09:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""211th Chorus"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3349"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3349,
        ""poem.id"": 3349,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:09:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""149th Chorus"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3350"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3350,
        ""poem.id"": 3350,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:10:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""10th Chorus Mexico City Blues"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3351"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3351,
        ""poem.id"": 3351,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:10:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Bowery Blues"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/4/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3352"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3352,
        ""poem.id"": 3352,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:10:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""2nd Chorus Mexico City Blues"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3353"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3353,
        ""poem.id"": 3353,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:10:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Daydreams For Ginsberg"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3354"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3354,
        ""poem.id"": 3354,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:10:21"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Nebraska"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3355"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3355,
        ""poem.id"": 3355,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:10:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""In Vain"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/4/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3356"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3356,
        ""poem.id"": 3356,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:10:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Bus East"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3357"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3357,
        ""poem.id"": 3357,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:10:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hitchhiker"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3358"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3358,
        ""poem.id"": 3358,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:10:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""How To Meditate"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3359"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3359,
        ""poem.id"": 3359,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:10:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Haiku (The Low Yellow...)"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3360"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3360,
        ""poem.id"": 3360,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:10:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Haiku (The Taste...)"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    },
    ""3361"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3361,
        ""poem.id"": 3361,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:10:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Haiku (Birds Singing...)"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Jack Kerouac""
    }
}"
140,"2018-02-28 21:10:13","Wallace Stevens","{
    ""3362"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3362,
        ""poem.id"": 3362,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:11:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Oak Leaves are Hands"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/9/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""In Hydaspia, by HowzenLived a lady, Lady Lowzen,For whom what is was other things.Flora she was once. She was floridA bachelor of feen masquerie,Evasive and metamorphorid.Mac Mort she had been, ago,Twelve-legged in her ancestral hells,Weaving and weaving many arms.Even now, the centre of something else,Merely by putting hand to brow,Brooding on centuries like shells.As the acorn broods on former oaksIn memorials of Northern sound,Skims the real for its unreal,So she in Hydaspia createdOut of the movement of few words,Flora Lowzen invigoratedArchaic and future happenings,In glittering seven-colored changes,By Howzen, the chromatic Lowzen."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3363"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3363,
        ""poem.id"": 3363,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:11:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Jasmine's Beautiful Thoughts Underneath the Willow"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/9/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""My titillations have no foot-notesAnd their memorials are the phrasesOf idiosyncratic music.The love that will not be transportedIn an old, frizzled, flambeaud manner,But muses on its eccentricity,Is like a vivid apprehensionOf bliss beyond the mutes of plaster,Or paper souvenirs of rapture,Of bliss submerged beneath appearance,In an interior ocean's rockingOf long, capricious fugues and chorals."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3364"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3364,
        ""poem.id"": 3364,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:11:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Repetitions of a Young Captain"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/9/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""A tempest cracked on the theatre. Quickly,The wind beat in the roof and half the walls.The ruin stood still in an external world.It had been real. It was something overseas That I remembered, something that I remembered Overseas, that stood in an external world.It had been real. It was not now. The ripOf the wind and the glittering were real now,In the spectacle of a new reality. IIThe people sat in the theatre, in the ruin,As if nothing had happened. The dim actor spoke. His hands became his feelings. His thick shapeIssued thin seconds glibly gapering.Then faintly encrusted, a tissue of the moonWalked toward him on the stage and they embraced."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3365"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3365,
        ""poem.id"": 3365,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:11:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sea Surface Full Of Clouds"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/9/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""In that November off Tehuantepec,The slopping of the sea grew still one nightAnd in the morning summer hued the deckAnd made one think of rosy chocolateAnd gilt umbrellas. Paradisal greenGave suavity to the perplexed machineOf ocean, which like limpid water lay.Who, then, in that ambrosial latitudeOut of the light evolved the morning blooms,Who, then, evolved the sea-blooms from the cloudsDiffusing balm in that Pacific calm?C'etait mon enfant, mon bijou, mon ame.The sea-clouds whitened far below the calmAnd moved, as blooms move, in the swimming greenAnd in its watery radiance, while the hueOf heaven in an antique reflection rolledRound those flotillas. And sometimes the seaPoured brilliant iris on the glistening blue. IIIn that November off TehuantepecThe slopping of the sea grew still one night.At breakfast jelly yellow streaked the deckAnd made one think of chop-house chocolateAnd sham umbrellas. And a sham-like greenCapped summer-seeming on the tense machineOf ocean, which in sinister flatness lay.Who, then, beheld the rising of the cloudsThat strode submerged in that malevolent sheen,Who saw the mortal massives of the bloomsOf water moving on the water-floor?C'etait mon frere du ciel, ma vie, mon or.The gongs rang loudly as the windy boomsHoo-hooed it in the darkened ocean-blooms.The gongs grew still. And then blue heaven spreadIts crystalline pendentives on the seaAnd the macabre of the water-gloomsIn an enormous undulation fled. IIIIn that November off Tehuantepec,The slopping of the sea grew still one nightAnd a pale silver patterned on the deckAnd made one think of porcelain chocolateAnd pied umbrellas. An uncertain green,Piano-polished, held the tranced machineOf ocean, as a prelude holds and holds,Who, seeing silver petals of white bloomsUnfolding in the water, feeling sureOf the milk within the saltiest spurge, heard, then,The sea unfolding in the sunken clouds?Oh! C'etait mon extase et mon amour.So deeply sunken were they that the shrouds,The shrouding shadows, made the petals blackUntil the rolling heaven made them blue,A blue beyond the rainy hyacinth,And smiting the crevasses of the leavesDeluged the ocean with a sapphire blue. IVIn that November off TehuantepecThe night-long slopping of the sea grew still.A mallow morning dozed upon the deckAnd made one think of musky chocolateAnd frail umbrellas. A too-fluent greenSuggested malice in the dry machineOf ocean, pondering dank stratagem.Who then beheld the figures of the cloudsLike blooms secluded in the thick marine?Like blooms? Like damasks that were shaken offFrom the loosed girdles in the spangling must.C'etait ma foi, la nonchalance divine.The nakedness would rise and suddenly turnSalt masks of beard and mouths of bellowing,Would- But more suddenly the heaven rolledIts bluest sea-clouds in the thinking green,And the nakedness became the broadest blooms,Mile-mallows that a mallow sun cajoled. VIn that November off TehuantepecNight stilled the slopping of the sea.The day came, bowing and voluble, upon the deck,Good clown... One thought of Chinese chocolateAnd large umbrellas. And a motley greenFollowed the drift of the obese machineOf ocean, perfected in indolence.What pistache one, ingenious and droll,Beheld the sovereign clouds as juggleryAnd the sea as turquoise-turbaned Sambo, neatAt tossing saucers- cloudy-conjuring sea?C'etait mon esprit batard, l'ignominie.The sovereign clouds came clustering. The conchOf loyal conjuration trumped. The windOf green blooms turning crisped the motley hueTo clearing opalescence. Then the seaAnd heaven rolled as one and from the twoCame fresh transfigurings of freshest blue."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3366"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3366,
        ""poem.id"": 3366,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:11:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Poetry Is A Destructive Force"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""That's what misery is,Nothing to have at heart.It is to have or nothing.It is a thing to have,A lion, an ox in his breast,To feel it breathing there.Corazon, stout dog,Young ox, bow-legged bear,He tastes its blood, not spit.He is like a manIn the body of a violent beastIts muscles are his own...The lion sleeps in the sun.Its nose is on its paws.It can kill a man."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3367"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3367,
        ""poem.id"": 3367,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:11:17"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Auroras of Autumn"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/9/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""This is where the serpent lives, the bodiless.His head is air. Beneath his tip at nightEyes open and fix on us in every sky.Or is this another wriggling out of the egg,Another image at the end of the cave,Another bodiless for the body's slough?This is where the serpent lives. This is his nest,These fields, these hills, these tinted distances,And the pines above and along and beside the sea.This is form gulping after formlessness,Skin flashing to wished-for disappearancesAnd the serpent body flashing without the skin.This is the height emerging and its baseThese lights may finally attain a poleIn the midmost midnight and find the serpent there,In another nest, the master of the mazeOf body and air and forms and images,Relentlessly in possession of happiness.This is his poison: that we should disbelieveEven that. His meditations in the ferns,When he moved so slightly to make sure of sun,Made us no less as sure. We saw in his head,Black beaded on the rock, the flecked animal,The moving grass, the Indian in his glade.IIFarewell to an idea . . . A cabin stands,Deserted, on a beach. It is white,As by a custom or according toAn ancestral theme or as a consequenceOf an infinite course. The flowers against the wallAre white, a little dried, a kind of markReminding, trying to remind, of a whiteThat was different, something else, last yearOr before, not the white of an aging afternoon,Whether fresher or duller, whether of winter cloudOr of winter sky, from horizon to horizon.The wind is blowing the sand across the floor.Here, being visible is being white,Is being of the solid of white, the accomplishmentOf an extremist in an exercise . . .The season changes. A cold wind chills the beach.The long lines of it grow longer, emptier,A darkness gathers though it does not fallAnd the whiteness grows less vivid on the wall.The man who is walking turns blankly on the sand.He observes how the north is always enlarging the change,With its frigid brilliances, its blue-red sweepsAnd gusts of great enkindlings, its polar green,The color of ice and fire and solitude.IIIFarewell to an idea . . . The mother's face,The purpose of the poem, fills the room.They are together, here, and it is warm,With none of the prescience of oncoming dreams.It is evening. The house is evening, half dissolved.Only the half they can never possess remains,Still-starred. It is the mother they possess,Who gives transparence to their present peace.She makes that gentler that can gentle be.And yet she too is dissolved, she is destroyed.She gives transparence. But she has grown old.The necklace is a carving not a kiss.The soft hands are a motion not a touch.The house will crumble and the books will burn.They are at ease in a shelter of the mindAnd the house is of the mind and they and time,Together, all together. Boreal nightWill look like frost as it approaches themAnd to the mother as she falls asleepAnd as they say good-night, good-night. UpstairsThe windows will be lighted, not the rooms.A wind will spread its windy grandeurs roundAnd knock like a rifle-butt against the door.The wind will command them with invincible sound.IVFarewell to an idea . . . The cancellings,The negations are never final. The father sitsIn space, wherever he sits, of bleak regard,As one that is strong in the bushes of his eyes.He says no to no and yes to yes. He says yesTo no; and in saying yes he says farewell.He measures the velocities of change.He leaps from heaven to heaven more rapidlyThan bad angels leap from heaven to hell in flames.But now he sits in quiet and green-a-day.He assumes the great speeds of space and flutters themFrom cloud to cloudless, cloudless to keen clearIn flights of eye and ear, the highest eyeAnd the lowest ear, the deep ear that discerns,At evening, things that attend it until it hearsThe supernatural preludes of its own,At the moment when the angelic eye definesIts actors approaching, in company, in their masks.Master O master seated by the fireAnd yet in space and motionless and yetOf motion the ever-brightening origin,Profound, and yet the king and yet the crown,Look at this present throne. What company,In masks, can choir it with the naked wind?VThe mother invites humanity to her houseAnd table. The father fetches tellers of talesAnd musicians who mute much, muse much, on the tales.The father fetches negresses to dance,Among the children, like curious ripenessesOf pattern in the dance's ripening.For these the musicians make insidious tones,Clawing the sing-song of their instruments.The children laugh and jangle a tinny time.The father fetches pageants out of air,Scenes of the theatre, vistas and blocks of woodsAnd curtains like a naive pretence of sleep.Among these the musicians strike the instinctive poem.The father fetches his unherded herds,Of barbarous tongue, slavered and panting halvesOf breath, obedient to his trumpet's touch.This then is Chatillon or as you please.We stand in the tumult of a festival.What festival? This loud, disordered mooch?These hospitaliers? These brute-like guests?These musicians dubbing at a tragedy,A-dub, a-dub, which is made up of this:That there are no lines to speak? There is no play.Or, the persons act one merely by being here.VIIt is a theatre floating through the clouds,Itself a cloud, although of misted rockAnd mountains running like water, wave on wave,Through waves of light. It is of cloud transformedTo cloud transformed again, idly, the wayA season changes color to no end,Except the lavishing of itself in change,As light changes yellow into gold and goldTo its opal elements and fire's delight,Splashed wide-wise because it likes magnificenceAnd the solemn pleasures of magnificent spaceThe cloud drifts idly through half-thought-of forms.The theatre is filled with flying birds,Wild wedges, as of a volcano's smoke, palm-eyedAnd vanishing, a web in a corridorOr massive portico. A capitol,It may be, is emerging or has justCollapsed. The denouement has to be postponed . . .This is nothing until in a single man contained,Nothing until this named thing nameless isAnd is destroyed. He opens the door of his houseOn flames. The scholar of one candle seesAn Arctic effulgence flaring on the frameOf everything he is. And he feels afraid.VIIIs there an imagination that sits enthronedAs grim as it is benevolent, the justAnd the unjust, which in the midst of summer stopsTo imagine winter? When the leaves are dead,Does it take its place in the north and enfold itself,Goat-leaper, crystalled and luminous, sittingIn highest night? And do these heavens adornAnd proclaim it, the white creator of black, jettedBy extinguishings, even of planets as may be,Even of earth, even of sight, in snow,Except as needed by way of majesty,In the sky, as crown and diamond cabala?It leaps through us, through all our heavens leaps,Extinguishing our planets, one by one,Leaving, of where we were and looked, of whereWe knew each other and of each other thought,A shivering residue, chilled and foregone,Except for that crown and mystical cabala.But it dare not leap by chance in its own dark.It must change from destiny to slight caprice.And thus its jetted tragedy, its steleAnd shape and mournful making move to findWhat must unmake it and, at last, what can,Say, a flippant communication under the moon.VIIIThere may be always a time of innocence.There is never a place. Or if there is no time,If it is not a thing of time, nor of place,Existing in the idea of it, alone,In the sense against calamity, it is notLess real. For the oldest and coldest philosopher,There is or may be a time of innocenceAs pure principle. Its nature is its end,That it should be, and yet not be, a thingThat pinches the pity of the pitiful man,Like a book at evening beautiful but untrue,Like a book on rising beautiful and true.It is like a thing of ether that existsAlmost as predicate. But it exists,It exists, it is visible, it is, it is.So, then, these lights are not a spell of light,A saying out of a cloud, but innocence.An innocence of the earth and no false signOr symbol of malice. That we partake thereof,Lie down like children in this holiness,As if, awake, we lay in the quiet of sleep,As if the innocent mother sang in the darkOf the room and on an accordion, half-heard,Created the time and place in which we breathed . . .IXAnd of each other thought—in the idiomOf the work, in the idiom of an innocent earth,Not of the enigma of the guilty dream.We were as Danes in Denmark all day longAnd knew each other well, hale-hearted landsmen,For whom the outlandish was another dayOf the week, queerer than Sunday. We thought alikeAnd that made brothers of us in a homeIn which we fed on being brothers, fedAnd fattened as on a decorous honeycomb.This drama that we live—We lay sticky with sleep.This sense of the activity of fate—The rendezvous, when she came alone,By her coming became a freedom of the two,An isolation which only the two could share.Shall we be found hanging in the trees next spring?Of what disaster in this the imminence:Bare limbs, bare trees and a wind as sharp as salt?The stars are putting on their glittering belts.They throw around their shoulders cloaks that flashLike a great shadow's last embellishment.It may come tomorrow in the simplest word,Almost as part of innocence, almost,Almost as the tenderest and the truest part.XAn unhappy people in a happy world—Read, rabbi, the phases of this difference.An unhappy people in an unhappy world—Here are too many mirrors for misery.A happy people in an unhappy world—It cannot be. There's nothing there to rollOn the expressive tongue, the finding fang.A happy people in a happy world—Buffo! A ball, an opera, a bar.Turn back to where we were when we began:An unhappy people in a happy world.Now, solemnize the secretive syllables.Read to the congregation, for todayAnd for tomorrow, this extremity,This contrivance of the spectre of the spheres,Contriving balance to contrive a whole,The vital, the never-failing genius,Fulfilling his meditations, great and small.In these unhappy he meditates a whole,The full of fortune and the full of fate,As if he lived all lives, that he might know,In hall harridan, not hushful paradise,To a haggling of wind and weather, by these lightsLike a blaze of summer straw, in winter's nick."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3368"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3368,
        ""poem.id"": 3368,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:11:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Tea At The Palaz Of Hoon"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/17/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Not less because in purple I descendedThe western day through what you calledThe loneliest air, not less was I myself.What was the ointment sprinkled on my beard?What were the hymns that buzzed beside my ears?What was the sea whose tide swept through me there?Out of my mind the golden ointment rained,And my ears made the blowing hymns they heard.I was myself the compass of that sea:I was the world in which I walked, and what I sawOr heard or felt came not but from myself;And there I found myself more truly and more strange."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3369"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3369,
        ""poem.id"": 3369,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:11:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Man With The Blue Guitar"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/12/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""The man bent over his guitar,A shearsman of sorts. The day was green.They said, 'You have a blue guitar,You do not play things as they are.'The man replied, 'Things as they are Are changed upon the blue guitar.'And they said then, 'But play, you must,A tune beyond us, yet ourselves,A tune upon the blue guitarOf things exactly as they are.'III cannot bring a world quite round,Although I patch it as I can.I sing a hero's head, large eyeAnd bearded bronze, but not a man,Although I patch him as I canAnd reach through him almost to man.If to serenade almost to manIs to miss, by that, things as they are,Say it is the serenade Of a man that plays a blue guitar.IIIAh, but to play man number one,To drive the dagger in his heart,To lay his brain upon the board And pick the acrid colors out,To nail his thought across the door,Its wings spread wide to rain and snow,To strike his living hi and ho,To tick it, tock it, turn it true,To bang from it a savage blue,Jangling the metal of the stringsIVSo that's life, then: things as they are?It picks its way on the blue guitar.A million people on one string?And all their manner in the thing,And all their manner, right and wrong,And all their manner, weak and strong?The feelings crazily, craftily call,Like a buzzing of flies in autumn air,And that's life, then: things as they are,This buzzing of the blue guitar.VDo not speak to us of the greatness of poetry,Of the torches wisping in the underground,Of the structure of vaults upon a point of light.There are no shadows in our sun,Day is desire and night is sleep.There are no shadows anywhere.The earth, for us, is flat and bare.There are no shadows. PoetryExceeding music must take the placeOf empty heaven and its hymns,Ourselves in poetry must take their place,Even in the chattering of your guitar.VIA tune beyond us as we are,Yet nothing changed by the blue guitar;Ourselves in the tune as if in space,Yet nothing changed, except the placeOf things as they are and only the placeAs you play them, on the blue guitar,Placed, so, beyond the compass of change,Perceived in a final atmosphere;For a moment final, in the way The thinking of art seems final whenThe thinking of god is smoky dew.The tune is space. The blue guitarBecomes the place of things as they are,A composing of senses of the guitar.VIIIt is the sun that shares our works.The moon shares nothing. It is a sea.When shall I come to say of the sun,It is a sea; it shares nothing;The sun no longer shares our works And the earth is alive with creeping men,Mechanical beetles never quite warm?And shall I then stand in the sun, as nowI stand in the moon, and call it good,The immaculate, the merciful good,Detached from us, from things as they are?Not to be part of the sun? To stand Remote and call it merciful?The strings are cold on the blue guitar.VIIIThe vivid, florid, turgid sky,The drenching thunder rolling by,The morning deluged still by night,The clouds tumultuously brightAnd the feeling heavy in cold chordsStruggling toward impassioned choirs,Crying among the clouds, enragedBy gold antagonists in air- I know my lazy, leaden twang Is like the reason in a storm;And yet it brings the storm to bear.I twang it out and leave it there.IXAnd the color, the overcast blueOf the air, in which the blue guitarIs a form, described but difficult,And I am merely a shadow hunchedAbove the arrowy, still strings,The maker of a thing yet to be made;The color like a thought that growsOut of a mood, the tragic robeOf the actor, half his gesture, halfHis speech, the dress of his meaning, silkSodden with his melancholy words,The weather of his stage, himself.XRaise reddest columns. Toll a bellAnd clap the hollows full of tin.Throw papers in the streets, the willsOf the dead, majestic in their seals.And the beautiful trombones-beholdThe approach of him whom none believes,Whom all believe that all believe,A pagan in a varnished care.Roll a drum upon the blue guitar.Lean from the steeple. Cry aloud,'Here am I, my adversary, thatConfront you, hoo-ing the slick trombones,Yet with a petty miseryAt heart, a petty misery,Ever the prelude to your end,The touch that topples men and rock.'XVIs this picture of Picasso's, this 'hoardOf destructions', a picture of ourselves,Now, an image of our society?Do I sit, deformed, a naked egg,Catching at Good-bye, harvest moon,Without seeing the harvest or the moon?Things as they are have been destroyed.Have I? Am I a man that is deadAt a table on which the food is cold?Is my thought a memory, not alive?Is the spot on the floor, there, wine or bloodAnd whichever it may be, is it mine?XXIIIA few final solutions, like a duetWith the undertaker: a voice in the clouds,Another on earth, the one a voiceOf ether, the other smelling of drink,The voice of ether prevailing, the swellOf the undertaker's song in the snowApostrophizing wreaths, the voiceIn the clouds serene and final, nextThe grunted breath scene and final,The imagined and the real, thoughtAnd the truth, Dichtung und Wahrheit, allConfusion solved, as in a refrainOne keeps on playing year by year,Concerning the nature of things as they are.XXXFrom this I shall evolve a man.This is his essence: the old fantocheHanging his shawl upon the wind,Like something on the stage, puffed out,His strutting studied through centuries.At last, in spite of his manner, his eyeA-cock at the cross-piece on a poleSupporting heavy cables, slungThrough Oxidia, banal suburb,One-half of all its installments paid.Dew-dapper clapper-traps, blazingFrom crusty stacks above machines.Ecce, Oxidia is the seedDropped out of this amber-ember pod,Oxidia is the soot of fire,Oxidia is Olympia.XXXIHow long and late the pheasant sleepsThe employer and employee contend,Combat, compose their droll affair.The bubbling sun will bubble up,Spring sparkle and the cock-bird shriek.The employer and employee will hearAnd continue their affair. The shriekWill rack the thickets. There is no place,Here, for the lark fixed in the mind,In the museum of the sky. The cockWill claw sleep. Morning is not sun,It is this posture of the nerves,As if a blunted player clutchedThe nuances of the blue guitar.It must be this rhapsody or none,The rhapsody of things as they are.XXXIIThrow away the lights, the definitions,And say of what you see in the darkThat it is this or that it is that,But do not use the rotted names.How should you walk in that space and know Nothing of the madness of space,Nothing of its jocular procreations?Throw the lights away. Nothing must standBetween you and the shapes you takeWhen the crust of shape has been destroyed.You as you are? You are yourself.The blue guitar surprises you.XXXIIIThat generation's dream, aviledIn the mud, in Monday's dirty light,That's it, the only dream they knew,Time in its final block, not timeTo come, a wrangling of two dreams.Here is the bread of time to come,Here is its actual stone. The bread Will be our bread, the stone will beOur bed and we shall sleep by night.We shall forget by day, exceptThe moments when we choose to playThe imagined pine, the imagined jay."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3370"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3370,
        ""poem.id"": 3370,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:11:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""No Possum, No Sop, No Taters"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/25/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3371"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3371,
        ""poem.id"": 3371,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:11:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Phases"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3372"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3372,
        ""poem.id"": 3372,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:11:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Study Of Two Pears"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3373"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3373,
        ""poem.id"": 3373,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:11:47"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Table Talk"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/28/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3374"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3374,
        ""poem.id"": 3374,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:11:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Man On The Dump"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3375"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3375,
        ""poem.id"": 3375,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:11:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""What Is Divinity"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3376"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3376,
        ""poem.id"": 3376,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:11:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hymn From A Watermelon Pavilion"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3377"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3377,
        ""poem.id"": 3377,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:12:01"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Contrary Theses (Ii)"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3378"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3378,
        ""poem.id"": 3378,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:12:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""It Must Give Pleasure"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3379"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3379,
        ""poem.id"": 3379,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:12:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Sense Of The Sleight-Of-Hand Man"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3380"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3380,
        ""poem.id"": 3380,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:12:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The High-Toned Old Christian Woman"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/20/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3381"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3381,
        ""poem.id"": 3381,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:12:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Le Monocle De Mon Oncle"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3382"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3382,
        ""poem.id"": 3382,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:12:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Frogs Eat Butterflies, Snakes Eat Frogs, Hogs Eat Snakes, Men Eat Hogs"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3383"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3383,
        ""poem.id"": 3383,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:12:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""In The Carolinas"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3384"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3384,
        ""poem.id"": 3384,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:12:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Two Figures In Dense Violet Light"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3385"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3385,
        ""poem.id"": 3385,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:12:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To The One Of Fictive Music"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3386"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3386,
        ""poem.id"": 3386,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:12:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Death Of A Soldier"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3387"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3387,
        ""poem.id"": 3387,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:12:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Poem That Took The Place Of A Mountain"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3388"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3388,
        ""poem.id"": 3388,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:12:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Farewell To Florida"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3389"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3389,
        ""poem.id"": 3389,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:12:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Postcard From The Volcano"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3390"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3390,
        ""poem.id"": 3390,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:13:01"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Man Whose Pharynx Was Bad"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3391"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3391,
        ""poem.id"": 3391,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:13:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Another Weeping Woman"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3392"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3392,
        ""poem.id"": 3392,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:13:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Well Dressed Man With A Beard"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3393"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3393,
        ""poem.id"": 3393,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:13:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Valley Candle"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3394"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3394,
        ""poem.id"": 3394,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:13:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Rabbit As King Of The Ghosts"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3395"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3395,
        ""poem.id"": 3395,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:13:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Plot Against The Giant"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3396"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3396,
        ""poem.id"": 3396,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:13:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Disillusionment Of Ten O'Clock"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3397"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3397,
        ""poem.id"": 3397,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:13:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Six Significant Landscapes"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3398"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3398,
        ""poem.id"": 3398,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:13:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Peter Quince At The Clavier"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3399"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3399,
        ""poem.id"": 3399,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:13:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Poem Written At Morning"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3400"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3400,
        ""poem.id"": 3400,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:13:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The River Of Rivers In Connecticut"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""3401"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3401,
        ""poem.id"": 3401,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:13:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Metaphors Of A Magnifico"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32117"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32117,
        ""poem.id"": 32117,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:48:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Nomad Exquisite"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32118"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32118,
        ""poem.id"": 32118,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:48:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Tattoo"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32119"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32119,
        ""poem.id"": 32119,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:48:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Bantams In Pine-Woods"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32120"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32120,
        ""poem.id"": 32120,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:48:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Looking Across The Fields And Watching The Birds Fly"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32121"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32121,
        ""poem.id"": 32121,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:48:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Madame La Fleurie"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/20/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32122"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32122,
        ""poem.id"": 32122,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:48:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Continual Conversation With A Silent Man"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32123"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32123,
        ""poem.id"": 32123,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:48:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A High-Toned Old Christian Woman"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32124"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32124,
        ""poem.id"": 32124,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:48:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Idea Of Order At Key West"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": ""She sang beyond the genius of the sea.The water never formed to mind or voice,Like a body wholly body, flutteringIts empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motionMade constant cry, caused constantly a cry,That was not ours although we understood,Inhuman, of the veritable ocean.The sea was not a mask. No more was she.The song and water were not medleyed soundEven if what she sang was what she heard,Since what she sang was uttered word by word.It may be that in all her phrases stirredThe grinding water and the gasping wind;But it was she and not the sea we heard.For she was the maker of the song she sang.The ever-hooded, tragic-gestured seaWas merely a place by which she walked to sing.Whose spirit is this? we said, because we knewIt was the spirit that we sought and knewThat we should ask this often as she sang.If it was only the dark voice of the seaThat rose, or even colored by many waves;If it was only the outer voice of skyAnd cloud, of the sunken coral water-walled,However clear, it would have been deep air,The heaving speech of air, a summer soundRepeated in a summer without endAnd sound alone. But it was more than that,More even than her voice, and ours, amongThe meaningless plungings of water and the wind,Theatrical distances, bronze shadows heapedOn high horizons, mountainous atmospheresOf sky and sea.It was her voice that madeThe sky acutest at its vanishing.She measured to the hour its solitude.She was the single artificer of the worldIn which she sang. And when she sang, the sea,Whatever self it had, became the selfThat was her song, for she was the maker. Then we,As we beheld her striding there alone,Knew that there was never a world for herExcept the one she sang and, singing, made.Ramon Fernandez, tell me, if you know,Why, when the singing ended and we turnedToward the town, tell why the glassy lights,The lights in the fishing boats at anchor there,As the night descended, tilting in the air,Mastered the night and portioned out the sea,Fixing emblazoned zones and fiery poles,Arranging, deepening, enchanting night.Oh! Blessed rage for order, pale Ramon,The maker's rage to order words of seaWords of the fragrant portals, dimly-starred,And of ourselves and our origins,In ghostlier demarcations, keener sounds."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32125"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32125,
        ""poem.id"": 32125,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:49:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Final Soliloquy Of The Interior Paramour"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32126"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32126,
        ""poem.id"": 32126,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:49:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Gray Room"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32127"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32127,
        ""poem.id"": 32127,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:49:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Planet On The Table"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32128"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32128,
        ""poem.id"": 32128,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:49:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The House Was Quiet And The World Was Calm"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32129"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32129,
        ""poem.id"": 32129,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:49:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Not Ideas About The Thing But The Thing Itself"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32130"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32130,
        ""poem.id"": 32130,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:49:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Domination Of Black"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32131"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32131,
        ""poem.id"": 32131,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:49:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Of Modern Poetry"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32132"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32132,
        ""poem.id"": 32132,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:49:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Anecdote Of The Jar"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32133"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32133,
        ""poem.id"": 32133,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:49:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Thirteen Ways Of Looking At A Blackbird"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32134"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32134,
        ""poem.id"": 32134,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:49:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Snow Man"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32135"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32135,
        ""poem.id"": 32135,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:49:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sunday Morning"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": ""1Complacencies of the peignoir, and lateCoffee and oranges in a sunny chair,And the green freedom of a cockatooUpon a rug mingle to dissipateThe holy hush of ancient sacrifice.She dreams a little, and she feels the darkEncroachment of that old catastrophe,As a calm darkens among water-lights.The pungent oranges and bright, green wingsSeem things in some procession of the dead,Winding across wide water, without sound.The day is like wide water, without sound,Stilled for the passing of her dreaming feetOver the seas, to silent Palestine,Dominion of the blood and sepulchre.2Why should she give her bounty to the dead?What is divinity if it can comeOnly in silent shadows and in dreams?Shall she not find in comforts of the sun,In pungent fruit and bright green wings, or elseIn any balm or beauty of the earth,Things to be cherished like the thought of heaven?Divinity must live within herself:Passions of rain, or moods in falling snow;Grievings in loneliness, or unsubduedElations when the forest blooms; gustyEmotions on wet roads on autumn nights;All pleasures and all pains, rememberingThe bough of summer and the winter branch.These are the measure destined for her soul.3Jove in the clouds had his inhuman birth.No mother suckled him, no sweet land gaveLarge-mannered motions to his mythy mind.He moved among us, as a muttering king,Magnificent, would move among his hinds,Until our blood, commingling, virginal,With heaven, brought such requital to desireThe very hinds discerned it, in a star.Shall our blood fail? Or shall it come to beThe blood of paradise? And shall the earthSeem all of paradise that we shall know?The sky will be much friendlier then than now,A part of labor and a part of pain,And next in glory to enduring love,Not this dividing and indifferent blue.4She says, 'I am content when wakened birds,Before they fly, test the reality Of misty fields, by their sweet questionings;But when the birds are gone, and their warm fieldsReturn no more, where, then, is paradise?'There is not any haunt of prophecy,Nor any old chimera of the grave,Neither the golden underground, nor isleMelodious, where spirits gat them home,Nor visionary south, nor cloudy palmRemote on heaven's hill, that has enduredAs April's green endures; or will endureLike her remembrance of awakened birds,Or her desire for June and evening, tippedBy the consummation of the swallow's wings.5She says, 'But in contentment I still feelThe need of some imperishable bliss.'Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her,Alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreamsAnd our desires. Although she strews the leavesOf sure obliteration on our paths,The path sick sorrow took, the many pathsWhere triumph rang its brassy phrase, or loveWhispered a little out of tenderness,She makes the willow shiver in the sunFor maidens who were wont to sit and gazeUpon the grass, relinquished to their feet.She causes boys to pile new plums and pearsOn disregarded plate. The maidens tasteAnd stray impassioned in the littering leaves.6Is there no change of death in paradise?Does ripe fruit never fall? Or do the boughsHang always heavy in that perfect sky,Unchanging, yet so like our perishing earth,With rivers like our own that seek for seasThey never find, the same receding shoresThat never touch with inarticulate pang?Why set pear upon those river-banksOr spice the shores with odors of the plum?Alas, that they should wear our colors there,The silken weavings of our afternoons,And pick the strings of our insipid lutes!Death is the mother of beauty, mystical,Within whose burning bosom we deviseOur earthly mothers waiting, sleeplessly.7Supple and turbulent, a ring of menShall chant in orgy on a summer mornTheir boisterous devotion to the sun,Not as a god, but as a god might be,Naked among them, like a savage source.Their chant shall be a chant of paradise,Out of their blood, returning to the sky;And in their chant shall enter, voice by voice,The windy lake wherein their lord delights,The trees, like serafin, and echoing hills,That choir among themselves long afterward.They shall know well the heavenly fellowshipOf men that perish and of summer morn.And whence they came and whither they shall goThe dew upon their feet shall manifest.8She hears, upon that water without sound,A voice that cries, 'The tomb in PalestineIs not the porch of spirits lingering.It is the grave of Jesus, where he lay.'We live in an old chaos of the sun,Or old dependency of day and night,Or island solitude, unsponsored, free,Of that wide water, inescapable.Deer walk upon our mountains, and the quailWhistle about us their spontaneous cries;Sweet berries ripen in the wilderness;And, in the isolation of the sky,At evening, casual flocks of pigeons makeAmbiguous undulations as they sink,Downward to darkness, on extended wings."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32136"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32136,
        ""poem.id"": 32136,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:49:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Disillusionment Of Ten O'Clock"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    },
    ""32137"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32137,
        ""poem.id"": 32137,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:50:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Emperor Of Ice-Cream"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Wallace Stevens""
    }
}"
141,"2018-02-28 21:10:28","William Carlos Williams","{
    ""3402"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3402,
        ""poem.id"": 3402,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:14:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Love Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/4/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""What have I to say to youWhen we shall meet?Yet—I lie here thinking of you.The stain of loveIs upon the world.Yellow, yellow, yellow,It eats into the leaves,Smears with saffronThe horned branches that leanHeavilyAgainst a smooth purple sky.There is no light—Only a honey-thick stainThat drips from leaf to leafAnd limb to limbSpoiling the coloursOf the whole world.I am alone.The weight of loveHas buoyed me upTill my headKnocks against the sky.See me!My hair is dripping with nectar—Starlings carry itOn their black wings.See, at lastMy arms and my handsAre lying idle.How can I tellIf I shall ever love you againAs I do now?"",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3403"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3403,
        ""poem.id"": 3403,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:14:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Turtle"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/23/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Not because of his eyes, the eyes of a bird, but because he is beaked,birdlike, to do an injury, has the turtle attracted you. He is your only pet.When we are together you talk of nothing else ascribing all sortsof murderous motives to his least action. You ask meto write a poem, should I have a poem to write, about a turtle.The turtle lives in the mud but is not mud-like, you can tell it by his eyeswhich are clear. When he shall escape his present confinementhe will stride about the world destroying all with his sharp beak.Whatever opposes him in the streets of the city shall go down.Cars will be overturned. And upon his back shall ride,to his conquests, my Lord, you!You shall be master! In the beginning there was a great tortoisewho supported the world. Upon him All ultimatelyrests. Without him nothing will stand.He is all wise and can outrun the hare. In the nighthis eyes carry him to unknown places. He is your friend."",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3404"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3404,
        ""poem.id"": 3404,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:14:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Gulls"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/21/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""My townspeople, beyond in the great world,are many with whom it were far moreprofitable for me to live than here with you.These whirr about me calling, calling!and for my own part I answer them, loud as I can,but they, being free, pass!I remain! Therefore, listen!For you will not soon have another singer.First I say this: you have seenthe strange birds, have you not, that sometimesrest upon our river in winter?Let them cause you to think well then of the stormsthat drive many to shelter. These thingsdo not happen without reason.And the next thing I say is this:I saw an eagle once circling against the cloudsover one of our principal churches—Easter, it was—a beautiful day!three gulls came from above the riverand crossed slowly seaward!Oh, I know you have your own hymns, I have heard them—and because I knew they invoked some great protectorI could not be angry with you, no matterhow much they outraged true music—You see, it is not necessary for us to leap at each other,and, as I told you, in the endthe gulls moved seaward very quietly."",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3405"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3405,
        ""poem.id"": 3405,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:14:17"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Kora In Hell: Improvisations Xvii"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/10/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""1 Little round moon up there—wait awhile—do not walk so quickly. I could sing you a song—: Wine clear the sky is and the stars no bigger than sparks! Wait for me and next winter we'll build a fire and shake up twists of sparks out of it and you shall see yourself in the ashes, young—as you were one time.—————— It has always been the fashion to talk about the moon.2 This that I have struggled against is the very thing I should have chosen—but all's right now. They said I could not put the flower back into the stem nor win roses upon dead briars and I like a fool believed them. But all's right now. Weave away, dead fingers, the darkies are dancing in Mayaguez—all but one with the sore heel and sugar cane will soon be high enough to romp through. Haia! leading over the ditches, with your skirts flying and the devil in the wind back of you—no one else. Weave away and the bitter tongue of an old woman is eating, eating, eating venomous words with thirty years mould on them and all shall be eaten back to honeymoon's end. Weave and pangs of agony and pangs of loneliness are beaten backward into the love kiss, weave and kiss recedes into kiss and kisses into looks and looks into the heart's dark—and over again and over again and time's pushed ahead in spite of all that. The petals that fell bearing me under are lifted one by one. That which kissed my flesh for priest's lace so that I could not touch it—weave and you have lifted it and I am glimpsing light chinks among the notes ! Backward, and my hair is crisp with purple sap and the last crust's broken.—————— A woman on the verge of growing old kindles in the mind of her son a certain curiosity which spinning upon itself catches the woman herself in its wheel, stripping from her the accumulations of many harsh years and shows her at last full of an old time suppleness hardly to have been guessed by the stiffened exterior which had held her fast till that time.3 Once again the moon in a glassy twilight. The gas jet in the third floor window is turned low, they have not drawn the shade, sends down a flat glare upon the lounge's cotton-Persian cover where the time passes with clumsy caresses. Never in this milieu has one stirred himself to turn up the light. It is costly to leave a jet burning at all. Feel your way to the bed. Drop your clothes on the floor and creep in. Flesh becomes so accustomed to the touch she will not even waken. And so hours pass and not a move. The room too falls asleep and the street outside falls mumbling into a heap of black rags morning's at seven——————— Seeing a light in an upper window the poet by means of the power he has enters the room and of what he sees there brews himself a sleep potion."",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3406"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3406,
        ""poem.id"": 3406,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:14:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""It Is a Small Plant"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/18/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for green pods, blind lanterns starting upward from the stalk each way to a pair of prickly edged blue flowerets: it is her regard, a little plant without leaves, a finished thing guarding its secret. Blue eyes— but there are twenty looks in one, alike as forty flowers on twenty stems—Blue eyes a little closed upon a wish achieved and half lost again, stemming back, garlanded with green sacks of satisfaction gone to seed, back to a straight stem—if one looks into you, trumpets—! No. It is the pale hollow of desire itself counting over and over the moneys of a stale achievement. Three small lavender imploring tips below and above them two slender colored arrows of disdain with anthers between them and at the edge of the goblet a white lip, to drink from—! And summer lifts her look forty times over, forty times over—namelessly."",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3407"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3407,
        ""poem.id"": 3407,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:14:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Ivy Crown"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/6/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""The whole process is a lie,unless,crowned by excess,It break forcefully,one way or another,from its confinement—or find a deeper well.Antony and Cleopatrawere right;they have shownthe way. I love youor I do not liveat all.Daffodil timeis past. This issummer, summer!the heart says,and not even the full of it.No doubtsare permitted—though they will comeand maybefore our timeoverwhelm us.We are only mortalbut being mortalcan defy our fate.We mayby an outside chanceeven win! We do notlook to seejonquils and violetscome againbut there are,still,the roses!Romance has no part in it.The business of love iscruelty which,by our wills,we transformto live together.It has its seasons,for and against,whatever the heartfumbles in the darkto asserttoward the end of May.Just as the nature of briarsis to tear flesh,I have proceededthrough them.Keepthe briars out,they say.You cannot liveand keep free ofbriars.Children pick flowers.Let them.Though having themin handthey have no further use for thembut leave them crumpledat the curb's edge.At our age the imaginationacross the sorry factslifts usto make rosesstand before thorns.Surelove is crueland selfishand totally obtuse—at least, blinded by the light,young love is.But we are older,I to loveand you to be loved,we have,no matter how,by our wills survivedto keepthe jeweled prizealwaysat our finger tips.We will it soand so it ispast all accident."",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3408"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3408,
        ""poem.id"": 3408,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:14:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Kora In Hell: Improvisations Xxvii"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/9/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""1 This particular thing, whether it be four pinches of four divers white powders cleverly compounded to cure surely, safely, pleasantly a painful twitching of the eyelids or say a pencil sharpened at one end, dwarfs the imagination, makes logic a butterfly, offers a finality that sends us spinning through space, a fixity the mind could climb forever, a revolving mountain, a complexity with a surface of glass; the gist of poetry. D.C. al fin. 2 There is no thing that with a twist of the imagination cannot be something else. Porpoises risen in a green sea, the wind at nightfall bending the rose-red grasses and you—in your apron running to catch—say it seems to you to be your son. How ridiculous! You will pass up into a cloud and look back at me, not count the scribbling foolish that puts wings to your heels, at your knees. 3 Sooner or later as with the leaves forgotten the swinging branch long since and summer: they scurry before a wind on the frost-baked ground—have no place to rest—somehow invoke a burst of warm days not of the past nothing decayed: crisp summer! —neither a copse for resurrected frost eaters but a summer removed undestroyed a summer of dried leaves scurrying with a screech, to and fro in the half dark—twittering, chattering, scraping. Hagh! _____________ Seeing the leaves dropping from the high and low branches the thought rise: this day of all others is the one chosen, all other days fall away from it on either side and only itself remains in perfect fullness. It is its own summer, of its leaves as they scrape on the smooth ground it must build its perfection. The gross summer of the year is only a halting counterpart of those fiery days of secret triumph which in reality themselves paint the year as if upon a parchment, giving each season a mockery of the warmth or frozenness which is within ourselves. The true seasons blossom or wilt not in fixed order but so that many of them may pass in a few weeks or hours whereas sometimes a whole life passes and the season remains of a piece from one end to the other."",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3409"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3409,
        ""poem.id"": 3409,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:14:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Kora In Hell: Improvisations Ii"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/10/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""1 Why go further? One might conceivably rectify the rhythm, study all out and arrive at the perfection of a tiger lily or a china doorknob. One might lift all out of the ruck, be a worthy successor to&38212;the man in the moon. Instead of breaking the back of a willing phrase why not try to follow the wheel through—approach death at a walk, take in all the scenery. There's as much reason one way as the other and then—one never knows—perhaps we ll bring back Euridice—this time!————— Between two contending forces there may at all times arrive that moment when the stress is equal on both sides so that with a great pushing a great stability results giving a picture of perfect rest. And so it may be that once upon the way the end drives back upon the beginning and a stoppage will occur. At such a time the poet shrinks from the doom that is calling him forgetting the delicate rhythms of perfect beauty, preferring in his mind the gross buffetings of good and evil fortune.2 Ay dio! I could say so much were it not for the tunes changing, changing, darting so many ways. One step and the cart's left you sprawling. Here s the way!—and you're hip bogged. And there's blame of the light too: when eyes are hummingbirds who'll tie them with a lead string? But it's the tunes they want most,—send them skipping out at the tree tops. Whistle then! who'ld stop the leaves swarming; curving down the east in their braided jackets? Well enough—but there's small comfort in naked branches when the heart's not set that way.—————— A man's desire is to win his way to some hilltop. But against him seem to swarm a hundred jumping devils. These are his constant companions, these are the friendly images which he has invented out of his mind and which are inviting him to rest and to disport himself according to hidden reasons. The man being half a poet is cast down and longs to rid himself of his torment and his tormentors.3 When you hang your clothes on the line you do not expect to see the line broken and them trailing in the mud. Nor would you expect to keep your hands clean by putting them in a dirty pocket. However and of course if you are a market man, fish, cheeses and the like going under your fingers every minute in the hour you would not leave off the business and expect to handle a basket of fine laces without at least mopping yourself on a towel, soiled as it may be. Then how will you expect a fine trickle of words to follow you through the intimacies of this dance without—oh, come let us walk together into the air awhile first. One must be watchman to much secret arrogance before his ways are tuned to these measures. You see there is a dip of the ground between us. You think you can leap up from your gross caresses of these creatures and at a gesture fling it all off and step out in silver to my finger tips. Ah, it is not that I do not wait for you, always! But my sweet fellow—you have broken yourself without purpose, you are—Hark! it is the music! Whence does it come? What! Out of the ground? Is it this that you have been preparing for me? Ha, goodbye, I have a rendez vous in the tips of three birch sisters. Encouragé vos musicians! Ask them to play faster. I will return—later. Ah you are kind. —and I? must dance with the wind, make my own snow flakes, whistle a contrapuntal melody to my own fugue! Huzza then, this is the dance of the blue moss bank! Huzza then, this is the mazurka of the hollow log! Huzza then, this is the dance of rain in the cold trees."",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3410"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3410,
        ""poem.id"": 3410,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:14:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Kora In Hell: Improvisations Xii"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/10/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""1 The browned trees are singing for my thirty-fourth birthday. Leaves are beginning to fall upon the long grass. Their cold perfume raises the anticipation of sensational revolutions in my unsettled life. Violence has begotten peace, peace has fluttered away in agitation. A bewildered change has turned among the roots and the Prince's kiss as far at sea as ever.—————— To each age as to each person its perfections. But in these things there is a kind of revolutionary sequence. So that a man having lain at ease here and advanced there as time progresses the order of these things becomes inverted. Thinking to have brought all to one level the man finds his foot striking through where he had thought rock to be and stands firm where he had experienced only a bog hitherto. At a loss to free himself from bewilderment at this discovery he puts off the caress of the imagination.2 The trick is never to touch the world anywhere. Leave yourself at the door, walk in, admire the pictures, talk a few words with the master of the house, question his wife a little, rejoin yourself at the door—and go off arm in arm listening to last week's symphony played by angel hornsmen from the benches of a turned cloud. Or if dogs rub too close and the poor are too much out let your friend answer them.—————— The poet being sad at the misery he has beheld that morning and seeing several laughing fellows approaching puts himself in their way in order to hear what they are saying. Gathering from their remarks that it is of some sharp business by which they have all made an inordinate profit, he allows his thoughts to play back upon the current of his own life. And imagining himself to be two persons he eases his mind by putting his burdens upon one while the other takes what pleasure there is before him. Something to grow used to; a stone too big for ox haul, too near for blasting. Take the road round it or—scrape away, scrape away: a mountain?s buried in the dirt! Marry a gopher to help you! Drive her in! Go yourself down along the lit pastures. Down, down. The whole family take shovels, babies and all! Down, down! Here's Tenochtitlan! here's a strange Darien where worms are princes.3 But for broken feet beating, beating on worn flagstones I would have danced to my knees at the fiddle's first run. But here's evening and there they scamper back of the world chasing the sun round! And it's daybreak in Calcutta! So lay aside, let's draw off from the town and look back awhile. See, there it rises out of the swamp and the mists already blowing their sleepy bagpipes.—————— Often a poem will have merit because of some one line or even one meritorious word. So it hangs heavily on its stem but still secure, the tree unwilling to release it."",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3411"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3411,
        ""poem.id"": 3411,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:14:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Kora In Hell: Improvisations Vii"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/10/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""1 It is still warm enough to slip from the weeds into the lake's edge, your clothes blushing in the grass and three small boys grinning behind the derelict hearth's side. But summer is up among the huckleberries near the path's end and snakes eggs lie curling in the sun on the lonely summit. But—well—let's wish it were higher after all these years staring at it deplore the paunched clouds glimpse the sky's thin counter-crest and plunge into the gulch. Sticky cobwebs tell of feverish midnights. Crack a rock (what's a thousand years!) and send it crashing among the oaks! Wind a pine tree in a grey-worm's net and play it for a trout; oh—but it's the moon does that! No, summer has gone down the other side of the mountain. Carry home what we can. What have you brought off? Ah here are thimbleberries.—————— In middle life the mind passes to a variegated October. This is the time youth in its faulty aspirations has set for the achievement of great summits. But having attained the mountain top one is not snatched into a cloud but the descent proffers its blandishments quite as a matter of course. At this the fellow is cast into a great confusion and rather plaintively looks about to see if any has fared better than he.2 The little Polish Father of Kingsland does not understand, he cannot understand. These are exquisite differences never to be resolved. He comes at midnight through mid-winter slush to baptise a dying newborn; he smiles suavely and shrugs his shoulders: a clear middle A touched by a master—but he cannot understand. And Benny, Sharon, Henrietta, and Josephine, what is it to them? Yet jointly they come more into the way of the music. And white haired Miss Ball! The empty school is humming to her little melody played with one finger at the noon hour but it is beyond them all. There is much heavy breathing, many tight shut lips, a smothered laugh whiles, two laughs cracking together, three together sometimes and then a burst of wind lifting the dust again.—————— Living with and upon and among the poor, those that gather in a few rooms, sometimes very clean, sometimes full of vermine, there are certain pestilential individuals, priests, school teachers, doctors, commercial agents of one sort or another who though they themselves are full of graceful perfections nevertheless contrive to be so complacent of their lot, floating as they are with the depth of a sea beneath them, as to be worthy only of amused contempt. Yet even to these sometimes there rises that which they think in their ignorance is a confused babble of aspiring voices not knowing what ancient harmonies these are to which they are so faultily listening.3 What I like best's the long unbroken line of the hills there. Yes, it's a good view. Come, let's visit the orchard. Here's peaches twenty years on the branch. Not ripe yet!? Why—! Those hills! Those hills! But you'ld be young again! Well, fourteen's a hard year for boy or girl, let alone one older driving the pricks in, but though there's more in a song than the notes of it and a smile's a pretty baby when you've none other—let's not turn backward. Mumble the words, you understand, call them four brothers, strain to catch the sense but have to admit it's in a language they've not taught you, a flaw somewhere,—and for answer: well, that long unbroken line of the hills there.—————— Two people, an old man and a woman in early middle life, are talking together upon a small farm at which the woman has just arrived on a visit. They have walked to an orchard on the slope of a hill from which a distant range of mountains can be clearly made out. A third man, piecing together certain knowledge he has of the woman with what is being said before him is prompted to give rein to his imagination. This he does and hears many oblique sentences which escape the others.Coda Squalor and filth with a sweet cur nestling in the grimy blankets of your bed and on better roads striplings dreaming of wealth and happiness. Country life in America! The cackling grackle that dartled at the hill's bottom have joined their flock and swing with the rest over a broken roof toward Dixie."",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3412"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3412,
        ""poem.id"": 3412,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:14:47"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sympathetic Portrait Of A Child"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/20/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""The murderer's little daughter who is barely ten years old jerks her shoulders right and left so as to catch a glimpse of me without turning round. Her skinny little arms wrap themselves this way then that reversely about her body!Nervously she crushes her straw hat about her eyes and tilts her head to deepen the shadow— smiling excitedly! As best as she can she hides herself in the full sunlight her cordy legs writhing beneath the little flowered dress that leaves them bare from mid-thigh to ankle— Why has she chosen me for the knife that darts along her smile?"",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3413"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3413,
        ""poem.id"": 3413,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:14:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Lines"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/12/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Leaves are graygreen,the glass broken, bright green."",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3414"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3414,
        ""poem.id"": 3414,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:14:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sonnet In Search Of An Author"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/23/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Nude bodies like peeled logssometimes give off a sweetestodor, man and womanunder the trees in full excessmatching the cushion ofaromatic pine-drift fallenthreaded with trailing woodbinea sonnet might be made of itMight be made of it! odor of excessodor of pine needles, odor ofpeeled logs, odor of no odorother than trailing woodbine thathas no odor, odor of a nude womansometimes, odor of a man."",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3415"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3415,
        ""poem.id"": 3415,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:14:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""For Viola: De Gustibus"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/16/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Beloved you areCaviar of CaviarOf all I love you bestO my Japanese bird nestNo herring from NorwayCan touch you for flavor. NayPimento itselfis flat as an empty shelfWhen compared to your piquancy O quince of my despondency."",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3416"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3416,
        ""poem.id"": 3416,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:15:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From Book I, Paterson"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/21/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Paterson lies in the valley under the Passaic Fallsits spent waters forming the outline of his back. Helies on his right side, head near the thunderof the waters filling his dreams! Eternally asleep,his dreams walk about the city where he persistsincognito. Butterflies settle on his stone ear.Immortal he neither moves nor rouses and is seldomseen, though he breathes and the subtleties of his machinationsdrawing their substance from the noise of the pouring riveranimate a thousand automations. Who because theyneither know their sources nor the sills of theirdisappointments walk outside their bodies aimlessly for the most part,locked and forgot in their desires-unroused. —Say it, no ideas but in things— nothing but the blank faces of the houses and cylindrical trees bent, forked by preconception and accident— split, furrowed, creased, mottled, stained— secret—into the body of the light!From above, higher than the spires, highereven than the office towers, from oozy fieldsabandoned to gray beds of dead grass,black sumac, withered weed-stalks,mud and thickets cluttered with dead leaves-the river comes pouring in above the cityand crashes from the edge of the gorgein a recoil of spray and rainbow mists- (What common language to unravel? . . .combed into straight lines from that rafter of a rock's lip.)A man like a city and a woman like a flower—who are in love. Two women. Three women.Innumerable women, each like a flower. Butonly one man—like a city."",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3417"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3417,
        ""poem.id"": 3417,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:15:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Poem"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""It's all inthe sound. A song.Seldom a song. It shouldbe a song—made ofparticulars, wasps,a gentian—somethingimmediate, openscissors, a lady'seyes—wakingcentrifugal, centripetal."",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3418"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3418,
        ""poem.id"": 3418,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:15:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Kora In Hell: Improvisations I"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/10/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""1 Fools have big wombs. For the rest?—here is pennyroyal if one knows to use it. But time is only another liar, so go along the wall a little further: if blackberries prove bitter there'll be mushrooms, fairy- ring mushrooms, in the grass, sweetest of all fungi.2 For what it's worth: Jacob Louslinger, white haired, stinking, dirty bearded, cross eyed, stammer tongued, broken voiced, bent backed, ball kneed, cave bellied, mucous faced—deathling,—found lying in the weeds \"up there by the cemetery.\" \"Looks to me as if he d been bumming around the meadows for a couple of weeks.\" Shoes twisted into incredible lilies: out at the toes, heels, tops, sides, soles. Meadow flower! ha, mallow! at last I have you. (Rot dead marigolds—an acre at a time! Gold, are you?) Ha, clouds will touch world's edge and the great pink mallow stand singly in the wet, topping reeds and a closet full of clothes and good shoes and my-thirty-year's-master's-daughter's two cows for me to care for and a winter room with a fire in it—. I would rather feed pigs in Moonachie and chew calamus root and break crab's claws at an open fire: age's lust loose!3 Talk as you will, say: \"No woman wants to bother with children in this country\";—speak of your Amsterdam and the whitest aprons and brightest doorknobs in Christendom. And I'll answer you: \"Gleaming doorknobs and scrubbed entries have heard the songs of the housemaids at sun-up and—housemaids are wishes. Whose? Ha! the dark canals are whistling, whistling for who will cross to the other side. If I remain with hands in pocket leaning upon my lamppost—why—I bring curses to a hag's lips and her daughter on her arm knows better than I can tell you—best to blush and out with it than back beaten after.—————— In Holland at daybreak, of a fine spring morning, one sees the housemaids beating rugs before the small houses of such a city as Amsterdam, sweeping, scrubbing the low entry steps and polishing doorbells and doorknobs. By night perhaps there will be an old woman with a girl on her arm, histing and whistling across a deserted canal to some late loiterer trudging aimlessly on beneath the gas lamps."",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3419"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3419,
        ""poem.id"": 3419,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:15:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Yachts"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/9/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""contend in a sea which the land partly enclosesshielding them from the too-heavy blowsof an ungoverned ocean which when it choosestortures the biggest hulls, the best man knowsto pit against its beatings, and sinks them pitilessly.Mothlike in mists, scintillant in the minutebrilliance of cloudless days, with broad bellying sailsthey glide to the wind tossing green waterfrom their sharp prows while over them the crew crawlsant-like, solicitously grooming them, releasing,making fast as they turn, lean far over and havingcaught the wind again, side by side, head for the mark.In a well guarded arena of open water surrounded bylesser and greater craft which, sycophant, lumberingand flittering follow them, they appear youthful, rareas the light of a happy eye, live with the graceof all that in the mind is feckless, free andnaturally to be desired. Now the sea which holds themis moody, lapping their glossy sides, as if feelingfor some slightest flaw but fails completely.Today no race. Then the wind comes again. The yachtsmove, jockeying for a start, the signal is set and theyare off. Now the waves strike at them but they are toowell made, they slip through, though they take in canvas.Arms with hands grasping seek to clutch at the prows.Bodies thrown recklessly in the way are cut aside.It is a sea of faces about them in agony, in despairuntil the horror of the race dawns staggering the mind;the whole sea become an entanglement of watery bodieslost to the world bearing what they cannot hold. Broken,beaten, desolate, reaching from the dead to be taken upthey cry out, failing, failing! their cries risingin waves still as the skillful yachts pass over."",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3420"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3420,
        ""poem.id"": 3420,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:15:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/20/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3421"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3421,
        ""poem.id"": 3421,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:15:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Adoration Of The Kings"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3422"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3422,
        ""poem.id"": 3422,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:15:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Horse Show"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3423"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3423,
        ""poem.id"": 3423,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:15:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Haymaking"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3424"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3424,
        ""poem.id"": 3424,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:15:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Muier"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3425"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3425,
        ""poem.id"": 3425,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:15:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Parable Of The Blind"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3426"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3426,
        ""poem.id"": 3426,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:15:47"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sicilian Emigrant’s Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3427"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3427,
        ""poem.id"": 3427,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:15:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Postlude"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3428"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3428,
        ""poem.id"": 3428,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:15:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Transitional"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3429"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3429,
        ""poem.id"": 3429,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:16:01"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Corn Harvest"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3430"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3430,
        ""poem.id"": 3430,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:16:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Play"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3431"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3431,
        ""poem.id"": 3431,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:16:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""On Gay Wallpaper"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3432"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3432,
        ""poem.id"": 3432,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:16:17"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Mind’s Games"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3433"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3433,
        ""poem.id"": 3433,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:16:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sub Terra"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3434"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3434,
        ""poem.id"": 3434,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:16:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Crowd At The Ball Game"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3435"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3435,
        ""poem.id"": 3435,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:16:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Wedding Dance In The Open Air"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3436"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3436,
        ""poem.id"": 3436,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:16:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Approaching Hour"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3437"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3437,
        ""poem.id"": 3437,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:16:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Proletarian Poet"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3438"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3438,
        ""poem.id"": 3438,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:16:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Peasant Wedding"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3439"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3439,
        ""poem.id"": 3439,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:16:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Hunter In The Snow"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3440"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3440,
        ""poem.id"": 3440,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:16:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Great Mullen"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""3441"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3441,
        ""poem.id"": 3441,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:17:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hic Jacet"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32178"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32178,
        ""poem.id"": 32178,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:50:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Slow Movement"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32179"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32179,
        ""poem.id"": 32179,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:50:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Flowers By The Sea"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32180"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32180,
        ""poem.id"": 32180,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:50:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Libertad! Igualdad! Fraternidad!"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32181"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32181,
        ""poem.id"": 32181,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:50:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Disputants"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32182"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32182,
        ""poem.id"": 32182,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:50:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Election Day"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32183"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32183,
        ""poem.id"": 32183,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:50:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Metric Figure"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32184"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32184,
        ""poem.id"": 32184,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:50:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Late Singer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
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        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
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        ""poem.title"": ""Heel & Toe To The End"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:50:39"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:50:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Light Hearted Author"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""The Dark Day"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""On A Proposed Trip South"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Classic Scene"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Light Hearted William"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.title"": ""To A Friend Concerning Several Ladies"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""The Cold Night"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Overture To A Dance Of Locomotives"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Backward"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""The Lonely Street"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""The Thinker"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Memory Of April"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""To A Friend"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""The Uses Of Poetry"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""To Elsie"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Children's Games"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:52:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""January"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.title"": ""The Great Figure"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Primrose"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Between Walls"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Tract"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:53:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""First Praise"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Romance Moderne"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""The Poor"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:53:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""January Morning"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Nantucket"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Apology"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""The Spring Storm"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:53:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""March"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Willow Poem"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""AprÈS Le Bain"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""These"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Peace On Earth"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Pastoral"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""The Widow's Lament In Springtime"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Dedication For A Plot Of Ground"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""The Dance"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Youth And Beauty"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""The Last Words Of My English Grandmother"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""The Artist"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:54:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Love Song"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:55:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Winter Trees"",
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:55:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Smell"",
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        ""poem.title"": ""Complaint"",
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    },
    ""32248"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32248,
        ""poem.id"": 32248,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:55:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""April"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32249"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32249,
        ""poem.id"": 32249,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:55:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Blueflags"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32250"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32250,
        ""poem.id"": 32250,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:55:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Approach Of Winter"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32251"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32251,
        ""poem.id"": 32251,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:55:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Daisy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32252"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32252,
        ""poem.id"": 32252,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:55:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Asphodel, That Greeny Flower"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem-save that it's green and wooden- I come, my sweet, to sing to you.We lived long together a life filled, if you will,with flowers. So that I was cheered when I came first to knowthat there were flowers also in hell. TodayI'm filled with the fading memory of those flowers that we both loved, even to this poorcolorless thing- I saw it when I was a child-little prized among the living but the dead see, asking among themselves:What do I remember that was shaped as this thing is shaped?while our eyes fill with tears. Of love, abiding loveit will be telling though too weak a wash of crimson colors itto make it wholly credible. There is something something urgentI have to say to you and you alone but it must waitwhile I drink in the joy of your approach, perhaps for the last time.And so with fear in my heart I drag it outand keep on talking for I dare not stop. Listen while I talk onagainst time. It will not be for long.I have forgot and yet I see clearly enough somethingcentral to the sky which ranges round it. An odorsprings from it! A sweetest odor! Honeysuckle! And nowthere comes the buzzing of a bee! and a whole flood of sister memories!Only give me time, time to recall them before I shall speak out.Give me time, time.When I was a boy I kept a book to which, from timeto time, I added pressed flowers until, after a time,I had a good collection. The asphodel, forebodingly,among them. I bring you, reawakened,a memory of those flowers. They were sweet when I pressed themand retained something of their sweetness a long time.It is a curious odor, a moral odor, that brings menear to you. The color was the first to go.There had come to me a challenge, your dear self,mortal as I was, the lily's throat to the hummingbird!Endless wealth, I thought, held out its arms to me.A thousand tropics in an apple blossom. The generous earth itselfgave us lief. The whole world became my garden!But the sea which no one tends is also a gardenwhen the sun strikes it and the waves are wakened.I have seen it and so have you when it puts all flowersto shame. Too, there are the starfish stiffened by the sunand other sea wrack and weeds. We knew that along with the rest of itfor we were born by the sea, knew its rose hedges to the very water's brink.There the pink mallow grows and in their season strawberriesand there, later, we went to gather the wild plum.I cannot say that I have gone to hell for your lovebut often found myself there in your pursuit.I do not like it and wanted to be in heaven. Hear me out.Do not turn away.I have learned much in my life from books and out of themabout love. Death is not the end of it.There is a hierarchy which can be attained, I think,in its service. Its guerdon is a fairy flower;a cat of twenty lives. If no one came to try it the worldwould be the loser. It has been for you and meas one who watches a storm come in over the water. We have stoodfrom year to year before the spectacle of our lives with joined hands.The storm unfolds. Lightning plays about the edges of the clouds.The sky to the north is placid, blue in the afterglowas the storm piles up. It is a flower that will soon reachthe apex of its bloom. We danced, in our minds,and read a book together. You remember? It was a serious book.And so books entered our lives.The sea! The sea! Always when I think of the seathere comes to mind the Iliad and Helen's public faultthat bred it. Were it not for that there would have been no poem but the world if we had remembered, those crimson petalsspilled among the stones, would have called it simply murder.The sexual orchid that bloomed then sending so many disinterestedmen to their graves has left its memory to a race of foolsor heroes if silence is a virtue. The sea alonewith its multiplicity holds any hope. The stormhas proven abortive but we remain after the thoughts it rousedto re-cement our lives. It is the mindthe mind that must be cured short of death'sintervention, and the will becomes again a garden. The poemis complex and the place made in our lives for the poem.Silence can be complex too, but you do not get far with silence.Begin again. It is like Homer's catalogue of ships:it fills up the time. I speak in figures, well enough, the dressesyou wear are figures also, we could not meet otherwise. When I speakof flowers it is to recall that at one timewe were young. All women are not Helen, I know that,but have Helen in their hearts. My sweet, you have it also, thereforeI love you and could not love you otherwise. Imagine you sawa field made up of women all silver-white. What should you dobut love them? The storm bursts or fades! it is notthe end of the world. Love is something else, or so I thought it,a garden which expands, though I knew you as a woman and never thought otherwise,until the whole sea has been taken up and all its gardens.It was the love of love, the love that swallows up all else, a grateful love,a love of nature, of people, of animals, a love engenderinggentleness and goodness that moved me and that I saw in you.I should have known, though I did not, that the lily-of-the-valleyis a flower makes many ill who whiff it. We had our children,rivals in the general onslaught. I put them aside though I cared for them.as well as any man could care for his children according to my lights.You understand I had to meet you after the eventand have still to meet you. Love to which you too shall bowalong with me- a flower a weakest flowershall be our trust and not because we are too feebleto do otherwise but because at the height of my powerI risked what I had to do, therefore to prove that we love each otherwhile my very bones sweated that I could not cry to you in the act.Of asphodel, that greeny flower, I come, my sweet, to sing to you!My heart rouses thinking to bring you news of somethingthat concerns you and concerns many men. Look at what passes for the new.You will not find it there but in despised poems. It is difficultto get the news from poems yet men die miserably every day for lackof what is found there. Hear me out for I too am concernedand every man who wants to die at peace in his bed besides."",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32253"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32253,
        ""poem.id"": 32253,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:55:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Landscape With The Fall Of Icarus"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32254"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32254,
        ""poem.id"": 32254,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:55:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Queen Anne's Lace"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32255"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32255,
        ""poem.id"": 32255,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:55:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Waken An Old Lady"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32256"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32256,
        ""poem.id"": 32256,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:55:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Thursday"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32257"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32257,
        ""poem.id"": 32257,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:55:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Poem (As The Cat)"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32258"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32258,
        ""poem.id"": 32258,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:55:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Blizzard"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32259"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32259,
        ""poem.id"": 32259,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:55:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Goodnight"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Go to sleep--though of course you will not-- to tideless waves thundering slantwise against strong embankments, rattle and swish of spray dashed thirty feet high, caught by the lake wind, scattered and strewn broadcast in over the steady car rails! Sleep, sleep! Gulls' cries in a wind-gust broken by the wind; calculating wings set above the field of waves breaking. Go to sleep to the lunge between foam-crests, refuse churned in the recoil. Food! Food! Offal! Offal! that holds them in the air, wave-white for the one purpose, feather upon feather, the wild chill in their eyes, the hoarseness in their voices-- sleep, sleep . . . Gentlefooted crowds are treading out your lullaby. Their arms nudge, they brush shoulders, hitch this way then that, mass and surge at the crossings-- lullaby, lullaby! The wild-fowl police whistles, the enraged roar of the traffic, machine shrieks: it is all to put you to sleep, to soften your limbs in relaxed postures, and that your head slip sidewise, and your hair loosen and fall over your eyes and over your mouth, brushing your lips wistfully that you may dream, sleep and dream-- A black fungus springs out about the lonely church doors-- sleep, sleep. The Night, coming down upon the wet boulevard, would start you awake with his message, to have in at your window. Pay no heed to him. He storms at your sill with cooings, with gesticulations, curses! You will not let him in. He would keep you from sleeping. He would have you sit under your desk lamp brooding, pondering; he would have you slide out the drawer, take up the ornamented dagger and handle it. It is late, it is nineteen-nineteen-- go to sleep, his cries are a lullaby; his jabbering is a sleep-well-my-baby; he is a crackbrained messenger. The maid waking you in the morning when you are up and dressing, the rustle of your clothes as you raise them-- it is the same tune. At table the cold, greeninsh, split grapefruit, its juice on the tongue, the clink of the spoon in your coffee, the toast odors say it over and over. The open street-door lets in the breath of the morning wind from over the lake. The bus coming to a halt grinds from its sullen brakes-- lullaby, lullaby. The crackle of a newspaper, the movement of the troubled coat beside you-- sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep . . . It is the sting of snow, the burning liquor of the moonlight, the rush of rain in the gutters packed with dead leaves: go to sleep, go to sleep. And the night passes--and never passes--"",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32260"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32260,
        ""poem.id"": 32260,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:56:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Celebration"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": ""A middle-northern March, now as always-- gusts from the South broken against cold winds-- but from under, as if a slow hand lifted a tide, it moves--not into April--into a second March, the old skin of wind-clear scales dropping upon the mold: this is the shadow projects the tree upward causing the sun to shine in his sphere. So we will put on our pink felt hat--new last year! --newer this by virtue of brown eyes turning back the seasons--and let us walk to the orchid-house, see the flowers will take the prize tomorrow at the Palace. Stop here, these are our oleanders. When they are in bloom-- You would waste words It is clearer to me than if the pink were on the branch. It would be a searching in a colored cloud to reveal that which now, huskless, shows the very reason for their being. And these the orange-trees, in blossom--no need to tell with this weight of perfume in the air. If it were not so dark in this shed one could better see the white. It is that very perfume has drawn the darkness down among the leaves. Do I speak clearly enough? It is this darkness reveals that which darkness alone loosens and sets spinning on waxen wings-- not the touch of a finger-tip, not the motion of a sigh. A too heavy sweetness proves its own caretaker. And here are the orchids! Never having seen such gaiety I will read these flowers for you: This is an odd January, died--in Villon's time. Snow, this is and this the stain of a violet grew in that place the spring that foresaw its own doom. And this, a certain July from Iceland: a young woman of that place breathed it toward the South. It took root there. The color ran true but the plant is small. This falling spray of snow-flakes is a handful of dead Februaries prayed into flower by Rafael Arevalo Martinez of Guatemala. Here's that old friend who went by my side so many years: this full, fragile head of veined lavender. Oh that April that we first went with our stiff lusts leaving the city behind, out to the green hill-- May, they said she was. A hand for all of us: this branch of blue butterflies tied to this stem. June is a yellow cup I'll not name; August the over-heavy one. And here are-- russet and shiny, all but March. And March? Ah, March-- Flowers are a tiresome pastime. One has a wish to shake them from their pots root and stem, for the sun to gnaw. Walk out again into the cold and saunter home to the fire. This day has blossomed long enough. I have wiped out the red night and lit a blaze instead which will at least warm our hands and stir up the talk. I think we have kept fair time. Time is a green orchard."",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32261"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32261,
        ""poem.id"": 32261,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:56:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Young Housewife"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32262"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32262,
        ""poem.id"": 32262,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:56:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Spring And All"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32263"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32263,
        ""poem.id"": 32263,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:56:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Complete Destruction"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32264"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32264,
        ""poem.id"": 32264,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:56:21"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Arrival"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32265"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32265,
        ""poem.id"": 32265,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:56:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""\"Libertad! Igualdad! Fraternidad!\""",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32266"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32266,
        ""poem.id"": 32266,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:56:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Dawn"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32267"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32267,
        ""poem.id"": 32267,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:56:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Danse Russe"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32268"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32268,
        ""poem.id"": 32268,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:56:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Sort Of A Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32269"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32269,
        ""poem.id"": 32269,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:56:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""This Is Just To Say"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    },
    ""32270"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32270,
        ""poem.id"": 32270,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:56:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Red Wheelbarrow"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""William Carlos Williams""
    }
}"
142,"2018-02-28 00:55:47","Derek Walcott","{
    ""3442"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3442,
        ""poem.id"": 3442,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:17:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Season of Phantasmal Peace"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Then all the nations of birds lifted togetherthe huge net of the shadows of this earthin multitudinous dialects, twittering tongues,stitching and crossing it. They lifted upthe shadows of long pines down trackless slopes,the shadows of glass-faced towers down evening streets,the shadow of a frail plant on a city sill—the net rising soundless as night, the birds' cries soundless, untilthere was no longer dusk, or season, decline, or weather,only this passage of phantasmal lightthat not the narrowest shadow dared to sever.And men could not see, looking up, what the wild geese drew,what the ospreys trailed behind them in silvery ropesthat flashed in the icy sunlight; they could not hearbattalions of starlings waging peaceful cries,bearing the net higher, covering this worldlike the vines of an orchard, or a mother drawingthe trembling gauze over the trembling eyesof a child fluttering to sleep; it was the lightthat you will see at evening on the side of a hillin yellow October, and no one hearing knewwhat change had brought into the raven's cawing,the killdeer's screech, the ember-circling choughsuch an immense, soundless, and high concernfor the fields and cities where the birds belong,except it was their seasonal passing, Love,made seasonless, or, from the high privilege of their birth,something brighter than pity for the wingless onesbelow them who shared dark holes in windows and in houses,and higher they lifted the net with soundless voicesabove all change, betrayals of falling suns,and this season lasted one moment, like the pausebetween dusk and darkness, between fury and peace,but, for such as our earth is now, it lasted long."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3443"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3443,
        ""poem.id"": 3443,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:17:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Fist"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/2/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""The fist clenched round my heartloosens a little, and I gaspbrightness; but it tightensagain. When have I ever not lovedthe pain of love? But this has movedpast love to mania. This has the strongclench of the madman, this isgripping the ledge of unreason, beforeplunging howling into the abyss.Hold hard then, heart. This way at least you live."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3444"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3444,
        ""poem.id"": 3444,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:17:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""In the Village"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/16/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""II came up out of the subway and there werepeople standing on the steps as if they knewsomething I didn't. This was in the Cold War,and nuclear fallout. I looked and the whole avenuewas empty, I mean utterly, and I thought,The birds have abandoned our cities and the plagueof silence multiplies through their arteries, they foughtthe war and they lost and there's nothing subtle or vaguein this horrifying vacuum that is New York. I caughtthe blare of a loudspeaker repeatedly warningthe last few people, maybe strolling lovers in their walk,that the world was about to end that morningon Sixth or Seventh Avenue with no people going to workin that uncontradicted, horrifying perspective.It was no way to die, but it's also no way to live.Well, if we burnt, it was at least New York.IIEverybody in New York is in a sitcom.I'm in a Latin American novel, onein which an egret-haired viejo shakes with someinvisible sorrow, some obscene affliction,and chronicles it secretly, till it shows in his face,the parenthetical wrinkles confirming his fictionto his deep embarrassment. Look, it'sjust the old story of a heart that won't call it quitswhatever the odds, quixotic. It's just one that'llbreak nobody's heart, even if the grizzled colonelpitches from his steed in a cavalry charge, in a battlethat won't make him a statue. It is the hellof ordinary, unrequited love. Watch these egretstrudging the lawn in a dishevelled troop, white bannerstrailing forlornly; they are the bleached regretsof an old man's memoirs, printed stanzas.showing their hinged wings like wide open secrets.IIIWho has removed the typewriter from my desk,so that I am a musician without his pianowith emptiness ahead as clear and grotesqueas another spring? My veins bud, and I am sofull of poems, a wastebasket of black wire.The notes outside are visible; sparrows willline antennae like staves, the way springs were,but the roofs are cold and the great grey riverwhere a liner glides, huge as a winter hill,moves imperceptibly like the accumulatingyears. I have no reason to forgive herfor what I brought on myself. I am past hating,past the longing for Italy where blowing snowabsolves and whitens a kneeling mountain rangeoutside Milan. Through glass, I am waitingfor the sound of a bird to unhinge the beginningof spring, but my hands, my work, feel strangewithout the rusty music of my machine. No wordsfor the Arctic liner moving down the Hudson, for the mangeof old snow moulting from the roofs. No poems. No birds.IVThe Sweet Life CaféIf I fall into a grizzled stillnesssometimes, over the red-chequered tableclothoutdoors of the Sweet Life Café, when the noiseof Sunday traffic in the Village is soft as a mothworking in storage, it is because of agewhich I rarely admit to, or, honestly, even think of.I have kept the same furies, though my domestic rageis illogical, diabetic, with no lessening of lovethough my hand trembles wildly, but not over this page.My lust is in great health, but, if it happensthat all my towers shrivel to dribbling sand,joy will still bend the cane-reeds with my pen'selation on the road to Vieuxfort with fever-grasswhite in the sun, and, as for the sea breakingin the gap at Praslin, they add up to the graceI have known and which death will be takingfrom my hand on this chequered tablecloth in this good place."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3445"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3445,
        ""poem.id"": 3445,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:17:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Ruins Of A Great House"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/30/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""though our longest sun sets at right declensions andmakes but winter arches,it cannot be long before we lie down in darkness, andhave our light in ashes. . .Browne, Urn BurialStones only, the disjecta membra of this Great House,Whose moth-like girls are mixed with candledust,Remain to file the lizard's dragonish claws.The mouths of those gate cherubs shriek with stain;Axle and coach wheel silted under the muckOf cattle droppings.Three crows flap for the treesAnd settle, creaking the eucalyptus boughs.A smell of dead limes quickens in the noseThe leprosy of empire.‘Farewell, green fields,Farewell, ye happy groves!'Marble like Greece, like Faulkner's South in stone,Deciduous beauty prospered and is gone,But where the lawn breaks in a rash of treesA spade below dead leaves will ring the boneOf some dead animal or human thingFallen from evil days, from evil times.It seems that the original crops were limesGrown in that silt that clogs the river's skirt;The imperious rakes are gone, their bright girls gone,The river flows, obliterating hurt.I climbed a wall with the grille ironworkOf exiled craftsmen protecting that great houseFrom guilt, perhaps, but not from the worm's rentNor from the padded calvary of the mouse.And when a wind shook in the limes I heardWhat Kipling heard, the death of a great empire, theabuseOf ignorance by Bible and by sword.A green lawn, broken by low walls of stone,Dipped to the rivulet, and pacing, I thought nextOf men like Hawkins, Walter Raleigh, Drake,Ancestral murderers and poets, more perplex4edIn memory now by every ulcerous crime.The world's green age then was rotting limeWhose stench became the charnel galleon's text.The rot remains with us, the men are gone.But, as dead ash is lifted in a windThat fans the blackening ember of the mind,My eyes burned from the ashen prose of Donne.Ablaze with rage I thought,Some slave is rotting in this manorial lake,But still the coal of my compassion foughtThat Albion too was onceA colony like ours, ‘part of the continent, piece of themain',Nook-shotten, rook o'erblown, derangedBy foaming channels and the vain expenseOf bitter faction.All in compassion endsSo differently from what the heart arranged:‘as well as if a manor of thy friend's. . . ‘"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3446"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3446,
        ""poem.id"": 3446,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:17:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Bounty"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/9/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""[for Alix Walcott]iBetween the vision of the Tourist Board and the true Paradise lies the desert where Isaiah's elations force a rose from the sand. The thirty-third cantocores the dawn clouds with concentric radiance,the breadfruit opens its palms in praise of the bounty, bois-pain, tree of bread, slave food, the bliss of John Clare,torn, wandering Tom, stoat-stroker in his county of reeds and stalk-crickets, fiddling the dank air, lacing his boots with vines, steering glazed beetleswith the tenderest prods, knight of the cockchafer, wrapped in the mists of shires, their snail-horned steeples palms opening to the cupped pool—but his soul saferthan ours, though iron streams fetter his ankles. Frost whitening his stubble, he stands in the fordof a brook like the Baptist lifting his branches to blesscathedrals and snails, the breaking of this new day,and the shadows of the beach road near which my mother lies, with the traffic of insects going to work anyway.The lizard on the white wall fixed on the hieroglyph of its stone shadow, the palms' rustling archery, the souls and sails of circling gulls rhyme with:\"In la sua volont è nostra pace,\"In His will is our peace. Peace in white harbours, in marinas whose masts agree, in crescent melonsleft all night in the fridge, in the Egyptian laboursof ants moving boulders of sugar, words in this sentence,shadow and light, who live next door like neighbours,and in sardines with pepper sauce. My mother liesnear the white beach stones, John Clare near the sea-almonds, yet the bounty returns each daybreak, to my surprise,to my surprise and betrayal, yes, both at once.I am moved like you, mad Tom, by a line of ants; I behold their industry and they are giants. iiThere on the beach, in the desert, lies the dark wellwhere the rose of my life was lowered, near the shaken plants, near a pool of fresh tears, tolled by the golden bellof allamanda, thorns of the bougainvillea, and that istheir bounty! They shine with defiance from weed and flower, even those that flourish elsewhere, vetch, ivy, clematis,on whom the sun now rises with all its power, not for the Tourist Board or for Dante Alighieri,but because there is no other path for its wheel to takeexcept to make the ruts of the beach road an allegoryof this poem's career, of yours, that she died for the sakeof a crowning wreath of false laurel; so, John Clare, forgive me,for this morning's sake, forgive me, coffee, and pardon me, milk with two packets of artificial sugar,as I watch these lines grow and the art of poetry harden meinto sorrow as measured as this, to draw the veiled figure of Mamma entering the standard elegiac.No, there is grief, there will always be, but it must not madden,like Clare, who wept for a beetle's loss, for the weight of the world in a bead of dew on clematis or vetch,and the fire in these tinder-dry lines of this poem I hateas much as I love her, poor rain-beaten wretch, redeemer of mice, earl of the doomed protectorate of cavalry under your cloak; come on now, enough! iiiBounty! In the bells of tree-frogs with their steady clamour in the indigo dark before dawn, the fading morse of fireflies and crickets, then light on the beetle's armour,and the toad's too-late presages, nettles of remorsethat shall spring from her grave from the spade's heartbreak. And yet not to have loved her enough is to love more,if I confess it, and I confess it. The trickle of underground springs, the babble of swollen gulches under drenched ferns, loosening the grip of their roots, till their hairy clodslike unclenching fists swirl wherever the gulch turns them, and the shuddering aftermath bends the rods of wild cane. Bounty in the ant's waking fury,in the snail's chapel stirring under wild yams, praise in decay and process, awe in the ordinaryin wind that reads the lines of the breadfruit's palmsin the sun contained in a globe of the crystal dew, bounty in the ants' continuing a line of raw flour, mercy on the mongoose scuttling past my door,in the light's parallelogram laid on the kitchen floor, for Thine is the Kingdom, the Glory, and the Power,the bells of Saint Clement's in the marigolds on the altar,in the bougainvillea's thorns, in the imperial lilac and the feathery palms that nodded at the entry into Jerusalem, the weight of the world on the backof an ass; dismounting, He left His cross there for sentry and sneering centurion; then I believed in His Word,in a widow's immaculate husband, in pews of brown wood,when the cattle-bell of the chapel summoned our herdinto the varnished stalls, in whose rustling hymnals I heard the fresh Jacobean springs, the murmur Clare heardof bounty abiding, the clear language she taught us, \"as the hart panteth,\" at this, her keen ears pronged while her three fawns nibbled the soul-freshening waters,\"as the hart panteth for the water-brooks\" that belonged to the language in which I mourn her now, or whenI showed her my first elegy, her husband's, and then her own. ivBut can she or can she not read this? Can you read this, Mamma, or hear it? If I took the pulpit, lay-preacher like tender Clare, like poor Tom, so that look, Miss!the ants come to you like children, their beloved teacher Alix, but unlike the silent recitation of the infants,the choir that Clare and Tom heard in their rainy county,we have no solace but utterance, hence this wild cry.Snails move into harbour, the breadfruit plants on the Bountywill be heaved aboard, and the white God is Captain Bligh.Across white feathery grave-grass the shadow of the soul passes, the canvas cracks open on the cross-trees of the Bounty, and the Trades lift the shrouds of the resurrected sail.All move in their passage to the same mother-country, the dirt-clawing weasel, the blank owl or sunning seal. Faith grows mutinous. The ribbed body with its cargostalls in its doldrums, the God-captain is cast adriftby a mutinous Christian, in the wake of the turning Argoplants bob in the ocean's furrows, their shoots dip and lift,and the soul's Australia is like the New Testament after the Old World, the code of an eye for an eye; the horizon spins slowly and Authority's argumentdiminishes in power, in the longboat with Captain Bligh. This was one of your earliest lessons, how the Christ-Son questions the Father, to settle on another island, haunted by Him,by the speck of a raging deity on the ruled horizon, diminishing in meaning and distance, growing more dim: all these predictable passages that we first disobeybefore we become what we challenged; but you never altered your voice, either sighing or sewing, you would pray to your husband aloud, pedalling the hymns we all heardin the varnished pew: \"There Is a Green Hill Far Away,\" \"Jerusalem the Golden.\" Your melody faltered but never your faith in the bounty which is His Word. vAll of these waves crepitate from the culture of Ovid, its sibilants and consonants; a universal metre piles up these signatures like inscriptions of seaweedthat dry in the pungent sun, lines ruled by mitre and laurel, or spray swiftly garlanding the forehead of an outcrop (and I hope this settles the matterof presences). No soul was ever invented,yet every presence is transparent; if I met her(in her nightdress ankling barefoot, crooning to the shallows),should I call her shadow that of a pattern invented by Graeco-Roman design, columns of shadows cast by the Forum, Augustan perspectives—poplars, casuarina-colonnades, the in-and-out light of almonds made from original Latin, no leaf but the olive's? Questions of pitch. Faced with seraphic radiance(don't interrupt!), mortals rub their skeptical eyes that hell is a beach-fire at night where embers dance, with temporal fireflies like thoughts of Paradise;but there are inexplicable instincts that keep recurring not from hope or fear only, that are real as stones,the faces of the dead we wait for as ants are transferringtheir cities, though we no longer believe in the shining ones. I half-expect to see you no longer, then more than half, almost never, or never then—there I have said it—but felt something less than final at the edge of your grave, some other something somewhere, equally dreaded, since the fear of the infinite is the same as death,unendurable brightness, the substantial dreading its own substance, dissolving to gases and vapours, like our dread of distance; we need a horizon,a dividing line that turns the stars into neighboursthough infinity separates them, we can think of only one sun: all I am saying is that the dread of death is in the faceswe love, the dread of our dying, or theirs;therefore we see in the glint of immeasurable spaces not stars or falling embers, not meteors, but tears. viThe mango trees serenely rust when they are in flower, nobody knows the name for that voluble cedarwhose bell-flowers fall, the pomme-arac purples its floor.The blue hills in late afternoon always look sadder. The country night waiting to come in outside the door; the firefly keeps striking matches, and the hillside fumeswith a bluish signal of charcoal, then the smoke burns into a larger question, one that forms and unforms, then loses itself in a cloud, till the question returns.Buckets clatter under pipes, villages begin at corners.A man and his trotting dog come back from their garden.The sea blazes beyond the rust roofs, dark is on usbefore we know it. The earth smells of what's done, small yards brighten, day dies and its mournersbegin, the first wreath of gnats; this was when we sat downon bright verandahs watching the hills die. Nothing is trite once the beloved have vanished; empty clothes in a row, but perhaps our sadness tires them who cherished delight;not only are they relieved of our customary sorrow, they are without hunger, without any appetite,but are part of earth's vegetal fury; their veins growwith the wild mammy-apple, the open-handed breadfruit, their heart in the open pomegranate, in the sliced avocado; ground-doves pick from their palms; ants carry the freightof their sweetness, their absence in all that we eat, their savour that sweetens all of our multiple juices,their faith that we break and chew in a wedge of cassava,and here at first is the astonishment: that earth rejoices in the middle of our agony, earth that will have herfor good: wind shines white stones and the shallows' voices. viiIn spring, after the bear's self-burial, the stuttering crocuses open and choir, glaciers shelve and thaw, frozen ponds crack into maps, green lances springfrom the melting fields, flags of rooks rise and tatter the pierced light, the crumbling quiet avalanches of an unsteady sky; the vole uncoils and the otterworries his sleek head through the verge's branches; crannies, culverts, and creeks roar with wrist-numbing water. Deer vault invisible hurdles and sniff the sharp air,squirrels spring up like questions, berries easily redden, edges delight in their own shapes (whoever their shaper). But here there is one season, our viridian Edenis that of the primal garden that engendered decay, from the seed of a beetle's shard or a dead hare white and forgotten as winter with spring on its way.There is no change now, no cycles of spring, autumn, winter, nor an island's perpetual summer; she took time with her; no climate, no calendar except for this bountiful day.As poor Tom fed his last crust to trembling birds,as by reeds and cold pools John Clare blest these thin musicians, let the ants teach me again with the long lines of words,my business and duty, the lesson you taught your sons, to write of the light's bounty on familiar thingsthat stand on the verge of translating themselves into news:the crab, the frigate that floats on cruciform wings,and that nailed and thorn riddled tree that opens its pews to the blackbird that hasn't forgotten her because it sings."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3447"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3447,
        ""poem.id"": 3447,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:17:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From 'Omeros'"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/9/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""BOOK SIXChapter XLIVIIn hill-towns, from San Fernando to Mayagüez, the same sunrise stirred the feathered lances of cane down the archipelago's highways. The first breezerattled the spears and their noise was like distant rain marching down from the hills, like a shell at your ears. In the cool asphalt Sundays of the Antillesthe light brought the bitter history of sugaracross the squared fields, heightening towards harvest, to the bleached flags of the Indian diaspora.The drizzling light blew across the savannah darkening the racehorses' hides; mist slowly erased the royal palms on the crests of the hills and thehills themselves. The brown patches the horses had grazed shone as wet as their hides. A skittish stallion jerked at his bridle, marble-eyed at the thundermuffling the hills, but the groom was drawing him in like a fisherman, wrapping the slack line under one fist, then with the other tightening the reinand narrowing the circle. The sky cracked asunder and a forked tree flashed, and suddenly that black rain which can lose an entire archipelagoin broad daylight was pouring tin nails on the roof, hammering the balcony. I closed the French window, and thought of the horses in their stalls with one hooftilted, watching the ropes of rain. I lay in bedwith current gone from the bed-lamp and heard the roar of wind shaking the windows, and I rememberedAchille on his own mattress and desperate Hector trying to save his canoe, I thought of Helen as my island lost in the haze, and I was sureI'd never see her again. All of a suddenthe rain stopped and I heard the sluicing of water down the guttering. I opened the window whenthe sun came out. It replaced the tiny brooms of palms on the ridges. On the red galvanizedroof of the paddock, the wet sparkled, then the groomsled the horses over the new grass and exercised them again, and there was a different brightness in everything, in the leaves, in the horses' eyes.III smelt the leaves threshing at the top of the year in green January over the orange villas and military barracks where the Plunketts were,the harbour flecked by the wind that comes with Christmas, edged with the Arctic, that was christened Vent Noël; it stayed until March and, with luck, until Easter.It freshened the cedars, waxed the laurier-cannelle, and hid the African swift. I smelt the drizzleon the asphalt leaving the Morne, it was the smellof an iron on damp cloth; I heard the sizzle of fried jackfish in oil with their coppery skin;I smelt ham studded with cloves, the crusted accra,the wax in the varnished parlour: Come in. Come in, the arm of the Morris chair sticky with lacquer; I saw a sail going out and a sail coming in,and a breeze so fresh it lifted the lace curtains like a petticoat, like a sail towards Ithaca; I smelt a dead rivulet in the clogged drains.IIIAh, twin-headed January, seeing either tense: a past, they assured us, born in degradation, and a present that lifted us up with the wind'snoise in the breadfruit leaves with such an elation that it contradicts what is past! The cannonballs of rotting breadfruit from the Battle of the Saints,the asterisks of bulletholes in the brick walls of the redoubt. I lived there with every sense.I smelt with my eyes, I could see with my nostrils.Chapter XLVIOne side of the coast plunges its precipices into the Atlantic. Turns require wide locks,since the shoulder is sharp and the curve just missesa long drop over the wind-bent trees and the rocks between the trees. There is a wide view of Dennery, with its stone church and raw ochre cliffs at whose basethe African breakers end. Across the flecked seawhose combers veil and unveil the rocks with their lace the next port is Dakar. The uninterrupted windthuds under the wings of frigates, you see them bent from a force that has crossed the world, tilting to find purchase in the sudden downdrafts of its current.The breeze threshed the palms on the cool December road where the Comet hurtled with empty leopard seats, so fast a man on a donkey trying to readits oncoming fiery sign heard only two thudding beats from the up-tempo zouk that its stereo playedwhen it screeched round a bridge and began to ascendaway from the palm-fronds and their wickerwork shade that left the windscreen clear as it locked round the bend, where Hector suddenly saw the trotting pigletand thought of Plunkett's warning as he heard it screel with the same sound that the tires of the Cometmade rounding the curve from the sweat-greased steering wheel.The rear wheels spin to a dead stop, like a helm. The piglet trots down the safer side of the road.Lodged in their broken branches the curled letters flame.Hector had both hands on the wheel. His head was bowed under the swaying statue of the Madonna of the Rocks, her smile swayed under the blue hood,and when her fluted robe stilled, the smile stayed on her dimpled porcelain. She saw, in the bowed man, the calm common oval of prayer, the head's usual angleover the pew of the dashboard. Her lifted palm, small as a doll's from its cerulean mantle, indicated that he had prayed enough to the laceof foam round the cliff's altar, that now, if he wished, he could lift his head, but he stayed in the same place, the way a man will remain when Mass is finished,not unclenching his hands or freeing one to cross forehead, heart, and shoulders swiftly and then kneel facing the altar. He bowed in endless remorse,for her mercy at what he had done to Achille, his brother. But his arc was over, for the course of every comet is such. The fated crescentwas printed on the road by the scorching tires.A salt tear ran down the porcelain cheek and it wentin one slow drop to the clenched knuckle that still grippedthe wheel. On the flecked sea, the uninterrupted wind herded the long African combers, and whipped the small flag of the island on its silver spearhead.IIDrivers leant over the rail. One seized my luggage off the porter's cart. The rest burst into patois, with gestures of despair at the lost privilegeof driving me, then turned to other customers.In the evening pastures horses grazed, their hides wet with light that shot its lances over the combers.I had the transport all to myself. \"You all set?Good. A good pal of mine died in that chariot of his called the Comet.\" He turned in the front seat,spinning the air with his free hand. I sat, sprawled out in the back, discouraging talk, with my crossed feet. \"You never know when, eh? I was at the airportthat day. I see him take off like a rocket.I always said that thing have too much horsepower. And so said, so done. The same hotel, chief, correct?\"I saw the coastal villages receding asthe highway's tongue translated bush into forest, the wild savannah into moderate pastures,that other life going in its \"change for the best,\" its peace paralyzed in a postcard, a concrete future ahead of it all, in the cinder-blocksof hotel development with the obsoletecraft of the carpenter, as I sensed, in the neat marinas, the fisherman's phantom. Old oarlocksand rusting fretsaw. My craft required the same crouching care, the same crabbed, natural devotion of the hand that stencilled a flowered window-frameor planed an elegant canoe; its time was gone with the spirit in the wood, as wood grew obsoleteand plasterers smoothed the blank page of white concrete.I watched the afternoon sea. Didn't I want the poor to stay in the same light so that I could transfix them in amber, the afterglow of an empire,preferring a shed of palm-thatch with tilted sticks to that blue bus-stop? Didn't I prefer a roadfrom which tracks climbed into the thickening syntaxof colonial travellers, the measured prose I readas a schoolboy? That cove, with its brown shallows there, Praslin? That heron? Had they waited for meto develop my craft? Why hallow that pretence of preserving what they left, the hypocrisy of loving them from hotels, a biscuit-tin fencesmothered in love-vines, scenes to which I was attached as blindly as Plunkett with his remorseful research? Art is History's nostalgia, it prefers a thatchedroof to a concrete factory, and the huge churchabove a bleached village. The gap between the driver and me increased when he said: \"The place changing, eh?\"where an old rumshop had gone, but not that riverwith its clogged shadows. That would make me a stranger. \"All to the good,\" he said. I said, \"All to the good,\"then, \"whoever they are,\" to myself. I caught his eyes in the mirror. We were climbing out of Micoud. Hadn't I made their poverty my paradise?His back could have been Hector's, ferrying tourists in the other direction home, the leopard seatscratching their damp backs like the fur-covered armrests.He had driven his burnt-out cargo, tired of sweat,who longed for snow on the moon and didn't have to face the heat of that sinking sun, who knew a climateas monotonous as this one could only produce from its unvarying vegetation flashes of a primal insight like those red-pronged liliesthat shot from the verge, that their dried calabashes of fake African masks for a fake Achillesrattled with the seeds that came from other men's minds.So let them think that. Who needed art in this place where even the old women strode with stiff-backed spines, and the fishermen had such adept thumbs, such gracethese people had, but what they envied most in them was the calypso part, the Caribbean lilt still in the shells of their ears, like the surf's rhythm,until too much happiness was shadowed with guilt like any Eden, and they sighed at the sign: HEWANNORRA (Iounalao), the gold seaflat as a credit-card, extending its lineto a beach that now looked just like everywhere else, Greece or Hawaii. Now the goddamn souvenirfelt absurd, excessive. The painted gourds, the shells. Their own faces as brown as gourds. Mine felt as strange as those at the counter feeling their bodies change.IIIChange lay in our silence. We had come to that bend where the trees are warped by wind, and the cliffs, raw, shelve surely to foam. \"Is right here everything end,\"the driver said, and rammed open the transport door on his side, then mine. \"Anyway, chief, the view nice.\" I joined him at the gusting edge. \"His name was Hector.\"The name was bent like the trees on the precipice to point inland. In its echo a man-o'-warscreamed on the wind. The driver moved off for a piss,then shouted over his shoulder: \"A road-warrior.He would drive like a madman when the power took. He had a nice woman. Maybe he died for her.\"For her and tourism, I thought. The driver shook himself, zipping then hoisting his crotch. \"Crazy, but a gentle fellow anyway, with a very good brain.\"Cut to a leopard galloping on a dry plain across Serengeti. Cut to the spraying fans drummed by a riderless stallion, its wild manescaring the Scamander. Cut to a woman's handsclenched towards her mouth with no sound. Cut to the wheel of a chariot's spiked hubcap. Cut to the faceof his muscling jaw, then flashback to Achille hurling a red tin and a cutlass. Next, a vase with a girl's hoarse whisper echoing \"Omeros,\"as in a conch-shell. Cut to a shield of silver rolling like a hubcap. Rewind, in slow motion, myrmidons gathering by a village riverwith lances for oars. Cut to the surpliced ocean droning its missal. Cut. A crane hoisting a wreck. A horse nosing the surf, then shuddering its neck.He'd paid the penalty of giving up the seaas graceless and as treacherous as it had seemed, for the taxi-business; he was making money,but all of that money was making him ashamed of the long afternoons of shouting by the wharf hustling passengers. He missed the uncertain sandunder his feet, he sighed for the trough of a wave, and the jerk of the oar when it turned in his hand, and the rose conch sunset with its low pelicans.Castries was corrupting him with its roaring life, its littered market, with too many transport vans competing. Castries had been his common-law wifewho, like Helen, he had longed for from a distance, and now he had both, but a frightening discontent hollowed his face; to find that the sea was a lovehe could never lose made every gesture violent: ramming the side-door shut, raking the clutch. He drove as if driven by furies, but furies paid the rent.A man who cursed the sea had cursed his own mother. Mer was both mother and sea. In his lost canoe he had said his prayers. But now he was in anotherkind of life that was changing him with his brand-new stereo, its endless garages, where he could notwhip off his shirt, hearing the conch's summoning note.Chapter XLVIIHector was buried near the sea he had loved once. Not too far from the shallows where he fought Achille for a tin and Helen. He did not hear the sea-almond'smoan over the bay when Philoctete blew the shell, nor the one drumbeat of a wave-thud, nor a sail rattling to rest as its day's work was over,and its mate, gauging depth, bent over the gunwale, then wearily sounding the fathoms with an oar,the same rite his shipmates would repeat soon enoughwhen it was their turn to lie quiet as Hector, lowering a pitch-pine canoe in the earth's trough,to sleep under the piled conchs, through every weatheron the violet-wreathed mound. Crouching for his friend to hear, Achille whispered about their ancestral river, and those things he would recognize when he got there,his true home, forever and ever and ever, forever, compère. Then Philoctete limped over and rested his hand firmly on a shaking shoulderto anchor his sorrow. Seven Seas and Helen did not come nearer. Achille had carried an oarto the church and propped it outside with the red tin.Now his voice strengthened. He said: \"Mate, this is your spear,\"and laid the oar slowly, the same way he had placed the parallel oars in the hull of the gommierthe day the African swift and its shadow raced.And this was the prayer that Achille could not utter: \"The spear that I give you, my friend, is only wood.Vexation is past. I know how well you treat her. You never know my admiration, when you stood crossing the sun at the bow of the long canoewith the plates of your chest like a shield; I would say any enemy so was a compliment. 'Cause no African ever hurled his wide seine at the bayby which he was born with such beauty. You hear me? Men did not know you like me. All right. Sleep good. Good night.\" Achille moved Philoctete's hand, then he saw Helenstanding alone and veiled in the widowing light. Then he reached down to the grave and lifted the tin to her. Helen nodded. A wind blew out the sun.IIPride set in Helen's face after this, like a stone bracketed with Hector's name; her lips were incised by its dates in parenthesis. She seemed more stern,more ennobled by distance as she slowly crossed the hot street of the village like a distant sailon the horizon. Grief heightened her. When she smiledit was with such distance that it was hard to tellif she had heard your condolence. It was the child, Ma Kilman told them, that made her more beautiful.IIIThe rites of the island were simplified by its elements,which changed places. The grooved sea was Achille's garden, the ridged plot of rattling plantains carried their senseof the sea, and Philoctete, on his height, often heard, in a wind that suddenly churned the rage of deep gorges, the leafy sound of far breakers plunging with smoke,and for smoke there were the bonfires which the sun catches on the blue heights at sunrise, doing the same work as Philoctete clearing his plot, just as, at sunset,smoke came from the glowing rim of the horizon as if from his enamel pot. The woodsmoke smelt of a regret that men cannot name. On the charred field, the massivesawn trunks burnt slowly like towers, and the greatindigo dusk slowly plumed down, devouring the still leaves, igniting the firefly huts, lifting the panicky egretto beat its lagoon and shelve in the cage of the mangroves, take in the spars of its sails, then with quick-pricking head anchor itself shiftingly, and lift its question again.At night, the island reversed its elements, the heron of a quarter-moon floated from Hector's grave, rain rose upwards from the sea, and the corrugated ironof the sea glittered with nailheads. Raggedplantains bent and stepped with their rustling powers over the furrows of Philoctete's garden, a chorus of agedancestors and straw, and, rustling, surrounded every house in the village with its back garden, with its rank middenof rusted chamber pots, rotting nets, and the moon's cold basin.They sounded, when they shook, after the moonlit meridian of their crossing, like the night-surf; they gazed in silence at the shadows of their lamplit children.At Philoctete, groaning and soaking the flower on his shin with hot sulphur, cleaning its edges with yellow Vaseline, and, gripping his knee, squeezing rags from the basin.At night, when yards are asleep, and the broken lineof the surf hisses like Philo, \"Bon Dieu, aie, waie, my sin is this sore?\" the old plantains suffer and shine.Chapter XLVIIIIslands of bay leaves in the medicinal bath of a cauldron, a sibylline cure. The citron sprig of a lime-tree dividing the sky in halfdipped its divining rod. The white spray of the thorn, which the swift bends lightly, waited for a black hand to break it in bits and boil its leaves for the woundfrom the pronged anchor rusting in clean bottom-sand. Ma Kilman, in a black hat with its berried fringe, eased herself sideways down the broken concrete stepof the rumshop's back door, closed it, and rammed the hinge tight. The bolt caught a finger and with that her instep arch twisted and she let out a soft Catholiccurse, then crossed herself. She closed the gate. The asphalt sweated with the heat, the limp breadfruit leaves were thick over the fence. Her spectacles swam in their sweat.She plucked an armpit. The damn wig was badly made. She was going to five o'clock Mass, to la Messe, and sometimes she had to straighten it as she prayeduntil the wafer dissolved her with tenderness,the way a raindrop melts on the tongue of a breeze.In the church's cool cave the sweat dried from her eyes.She rolled down the elastic bands below the knees of her swollen stockings. It was then that their vise round her calves reminded her of Philoctete. Then,numbering her beads, she began her own litany of berries, Hail Mary marigolds that stiffen their aureoles in the heights, mild anemoneand clear watercress, the sacred heart of Jesus pierced like the anthurium, the thorns of logwood, called the tree of life, the aloe good for seizures,the hole in the daisy's palm, with its drying blood that was the hole in the fisherman's shin since he was pierced by a hook; there was the pale, roadside tisaneof her malarial childhood. There was this onefor easing a birth-breach, that one for a love-bath, before the buds of green sugar-apples in the sunripened like her nipples in girlhood. But what path led through nettles to the cure, the furious sibyl couldn't remember. Mimosa winced from her fingers,shutting like jalousies at some passing evilwhen she reached for them. The smell of incense lingers in her clothes. Inside, the candle-flames are erectround the bier of the altar while she and her friends old-talk on the steps, but the plant keeps its secret when her memory reaches, shuttering in its fronds.IIThe dew had not yet dried on the white-ribbed awnings and the nodding palanquins of umbrella yams where the dark grove had not heat but early morningsof perpetual freshness, in which the bearded arms of a cedar held council. Between its gnarled toesgrew the reek of an unknown weed; its pronged flowersprang like a buried anchor; its windborne odours diverted the bee from its pollen, but its power,rooted in bitterness, drew her bowed head by the noseas a spike does a circling bull. To approach itMa Kilman lowered her head to one side and screened the stench with a cologned handkerchief. The mulch itwas rooted in carried the smell, when it gangrened, of Philoctete's cut. In her black dress, her berried black hat, she climbed a goat-path up from the village,past the stones with dried palms and conchs, where the buried suffer the sun all day Sunday, while goats forage the new wreaths. Once more she pulled at the itch in herarmpits, nearly dropping her purse. Then she climbed hard up the rain-cracked path, the bay closing behind her like a wound, and rested. Everything that echoedrepeated its outline: a goat's doddering bleat,a hammer multiplying a roof, and, through the back yards, a mother cursing a boy too nimble to beat.Ma Kilman picked up her purse and sighed on upwards to the thread of the smell, one arm behind her back, passing the cactus, the thorn trees, and then the woodappeared over her, thick green, the green almost black as her dress in its shade, its border of flowersflecking the pasture with spray. Then she staggered backfrom the line of ants at her feet. She saw the course they had kept behind her, following her from church, signalling a language she could not recognize.IIIA swift had carried the strong seed in its stomach centuries ago from its antipodal shore,skimming the sea-troughs, outdarting ospreys, her luckheld to its shadow. She aimed to carry the cure that precedes every wound; the reversible Bight of Benin was her bow, her target the ringed hazeof a circling horizon. The star-grains at night made her hungrier; the leafless sea with no house for her weariness. Sometimes she dozed in her flightfor a swift's second, closing the seeds of her stare,then ruddering straight. The dry sea-flakes whitened her breast, her feathers thinned. Then, one dawn the day-starrose slowly from the wrong place and it frightened her because all the breakers were blowing from the wrong east. She saw the horned island and uncurled her clawswith one frail cry, since swifts are not given to song, and fluttered down to a beach, ejecting the seed in grass near the sand. She nestled in dry seaweed.In a year she was bleached bone. All of that motion a pile of fragile ash from the fire of her will, but the vine grew its own wings, out of the oceanit climbed like the ants, the ancestors of Achille, the women carrying coals after the dark door slid over the hold. As the weed grew in odourso did its strength at the damp root of the cedar, where the flower was anchored at the mottled root as a lizard crawled upwards, foot by sallow foot."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3448"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3448,
        ""poem.id"": 3448,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:17:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Lesson for This Sunday"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/15/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""The growing idleness of summer grassWith its frail kites of furious butterfliesRequests the lemonade of simple praiseIn scansion gentler than my hammock swingsAnd rituals no more upsetting than aBlack maid shaking linen as she singsThe plain notes of some Protestant hosanna—Since I lie idling from the thought in things—Or so they should, until I hear the criesOf two small children hunting yellow wings,Who break my Sabbath with the thought of sin.Brother and sister, with a common pin,Frowning like serious lepidopterists.The little surgeon pierces the thin eyes.Crouched on plump haunches, as a mantis praysShe shrieks to eviscerate its abdomen.The lesson is the same. The maid removesBoth prodigies from their interest in science.The girl, in lemon frock, begins to screamAs the maimed, teetering thing attempts its flight.She is herself a thing of summery light,Frail as a flower in this blue August air,Not marked for some late grief that cannot speak.The mind swings inward on itself in fearSwayed towards nausea from each normal sign.Heredity of cruelty everywhere,And everywhere the frocks of summer torn,The long look back to see where choice is born,As summer grass sways to the scythe's design."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3449"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3449,
        ""poem.id"": 3449,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:17:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Star-Apple Kingdom"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/12/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3450"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3450,
        ""poem.id"": 3450,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:17:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Pentecost"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/12/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3451"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3451,
        ""poem.id"": 3451,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:17:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Coral"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/12/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3452"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3452,
        ""poem.id"": 3452,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:18:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""R.T.S.L. (1917-1977)"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3453"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3453,
        ""poem.id"": 3453,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:18:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Parang"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3454"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3454,
        ""poem.id"": 3454,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:18:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sabbaths, W.I."",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3455"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3455,
        ""poem.id"": 3455,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:18:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""In The Virgins"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3456"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3456,
        ""poem.id"": 3456,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:18:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Koening Of The River"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3457"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3457,
        ""poem.id"": 3457,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:18:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Codicil"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3458"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3458,
        ""poem.id"": 3458,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:18:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Saddhu Of Couva"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3459"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3459,
        ""poem.id"": 3459,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:18:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Glory Trumpeter"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/7/2005"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3460"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3460,
        ""poem.id"": 3460,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:18:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Night In The Gardens Of Port Of Spain"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/7/2005"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3461"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3461,
        ""poem.id"": 3461,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:18:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Dark August"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/12/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3462"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3462,
        ""poem.id"": 3462,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:18:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Egypt, Tobago"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3463"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3463,
        ""poem.id"": 3463,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:19:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Blues"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3464"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3464,
        ""poem.id"": 3464,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:19:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Forest Of Europe"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3465"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3465,
        ""poem.id"": 3465,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:19:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Far Cry From Africa"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3466"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3466,
        ""poem.id"": 3466,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:19:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Sea Is History"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3467"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3467,
        ""poem.id"": 3467,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:19:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""After The Storm"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3468"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3468,
        ""poem.id"": 3468,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:19:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A City's Death By Fire"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3469"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3469,
        ""poem.id"": 3469,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:19:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Midsummer, Tobago"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    },
    ""3470"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3470,
        ""poem.id"": 3470,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:19:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Love After Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Derek Walcott""
    }
}"
143,"2018-02-28 21:10:36","Charles Dickens","{
    ""3471"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3471,
        ""poem.id"": 3471,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:19:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Hymn Of The Wiltshire Laborers"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/4/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Charles Dickens""
    },
    ""3472"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3472,
        ""poem.id"": 3472,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:19:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Gabriel's Grub Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/4/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Charles Dickens""
    },
    ""3473"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3473,
        ""poem.id"": 3473,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:19:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""George Edmunds' Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/4/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Charles Dickens""
    },
    ""3474"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3474,
        ""poem.id"": 3474,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:19:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Little Nell's Funeral"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/4/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Charles Dickens""
    },
    ""3475"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3475,
        ""poem.id"": 3475,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:19:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Fine Old English Gentleman"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/4/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Charles Dickens""
    },
    ""3476"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3476,
        ""poem.id"": 3476,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:20:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Song Of The Wreck"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/4/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Charles Dickens""
    },
    ""3477"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3477,
        ""poem.id"": 3477,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:20:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Squire Norton's Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/4/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Charles Dickens""
    },
    ""3478"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3478,
        ""poem.id"": 3478,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:20:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Ivy Green"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/4/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Charles Dickens""
    },
    ""3479"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3479,
        ""poem.id"": 3479,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:20:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Child's Hymn"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/4/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Charles Dickens""
    },
    ""3480"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3480,
        ""poem.id"": 3480,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:20:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Lucy's Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/4/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Charles Dickens""
    }
}"
144,"2018-02-28 21:10:51","Mahmoud Darwish","{
    ""3481"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3481,
        ""poem.id"": 3481,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:20:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Other Berbers Will Come"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/16/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""3482"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3482,
        ""poem.id"": 3482,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:20:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Neighing At The Slope"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""3483"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3483,
        ""poem.id"": 3483,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:20:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Remember Elsayyab…"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""3484"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3484,
        ""poem.id"": 3484,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:20:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Cadence Chooses Me"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""3485"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3485,
        ""poem.id"": 3485,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:20:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Psalm Four"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""3486"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3486,
        ""poem.id"": 3486,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:20:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Song And The Sultan"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""3487"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3487,
        ""poem.id"": 3487,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:20:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Pride And Fury"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/16/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""3488"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3488,
        ""poem.id"": 3488,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:20:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Intensive Care Unit"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/16/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""3489"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3489,
        ""poem.id"": 3489,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:21:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mohammed Al Durra"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""3490"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3490,
        ""poem.id"": 3490,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:21:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Will Slog Over This Road"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""3491"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3491,
        ""poem.id"": 3491,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:21:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""In Egypt, One Hour Isn'T Like Any Other"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""3492"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3492,
        ""poem.id"": 3492,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:21:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Brand Of Slaves"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/7/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""3493"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3493,
        ""poem.id"": 3493,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:21:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Horse Fell Off The Poem"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""3494"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3494,
        ""poem.id"": 3494,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:21:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Have A Seat In The Abandoned Theater"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""3495"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3495,
        ""poem.id"": 3495,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:21:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""On A Day Like This"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""3496"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3496,
        ""poem.id"": 3496,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:21:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""And They Don'T Ask…"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""3497"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3497,
        ""poem.id"": 3497,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:21:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""If I Were Someone Else On The Road..."",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""3498"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3498,
        ""poem.id"": 3498,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:21:47"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Now, As You Awaken…"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3499,
        ""poem.id"": 3499,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:21:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Slain And Unknown…"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3500,
        ""poem.id"": 3500,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:21:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""No Flag Flutters In The Wind"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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    ""3501"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3501,
        ""poem.id"": 3501,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:22:01"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Noun Sentence"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3502,
        ""poem.id"": 3502,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:22:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Have The Wisdom Of One Condemned…"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/4/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3503,
        ""poem.id"": 3503,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:22:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""If I Were Another"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3504,
        ""poem.id"": 3504,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:22:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""They Would Love To See Me Dead"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/16/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3505,
        ""poem.id"": 3505,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:22:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Psalm Two"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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    ""3506"": {
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        ""poem.id"": 3506,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:22:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Promise Of Liberty"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/16/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3507,
        ""poem.id"": 3507,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:22:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Cypress Broke"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poem.id"": 3508,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:22:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Your Night Is Of Lilac"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3509,
        ""poem.id"": 3509,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:22:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Psalm One"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3510,
        ""poem.id"": 3510,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:22:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To My End And To Its End..."",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3511,
        ""poem.id"": 3511,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:22:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Nostalgia To The Light"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/28/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3512,
        ""poem.id"": 3512,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:22:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Didn'T Apologize To The Well…"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3513,
        ""poem.id"": 3513,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:23:01"",
        ""poem.title"": ""On A Canaaite Rock At The Dead Sea"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/16/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3514,
        ""poem.id"": 3514,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:23:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Another Day Will Come"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3515,
        ""poem.id"": 3515,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:23:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Who Am I, Without Exile?"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3516,
        ""poem.id"": 3516,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:23:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Earth Presses Against Us"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3517,
        ""poem.id"": 3517,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:23:21"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Remainder Of A Life"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/16/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3518,
        ""poem.id"": 3518,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:23:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Promises Of The Storm"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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    ""3519"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3519,
        ""poem.id"": 3519,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:23:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I See What I Want"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/16/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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    ""3520"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3520,
        ""poem.id"": 3520,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:23:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Owl's Night"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32331,
        ""poem.id"": 32331,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:56:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sonnet V"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32332,
        ""poem.id"": 32332,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:56:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Defiance"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32333,
        ""poem.id"": 32333,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:57:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Ahmad Al-Za'Tar"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/5/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32334,
        ""poem.id"": 32334,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:57:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Pigeons Fly"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32335,
        ""poem.id"": 32335,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:57:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""We Have The Right To Love Autumn"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/16/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32336,
        ""poem.id"": 32336,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:57:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Exiles Don'T Look Back…"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32337,
        ""poem.id"": 32337,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:57:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""It Is Night And She Is Lonely…"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32338,
        ""poem.id"": 32338,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:57:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""On Man"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/5/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32339,
        ""poem.id"": 32339,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:57:21"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Violins"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/5/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32340,
        ""poem.id"": 32340,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:57:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""If You Find Yourself Alone"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32341,
        ""poem.id"": 32341,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:57:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To A Young Poet"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32342,
        ""poem.id"": 32342,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:57:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""As He Walks Away"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/16/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32343,
        ""poem.id"": 32343,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:57:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Strangers' Walk"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32344,
        ""poem.id"": 32344,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:57:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Think Of Others"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32345,
        ""poem.id"": 32345,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:57:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Rhyme For The Odes (Mu'Allaqat)"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32346,
        ""poem.id"": 32346,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:57:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""On Wishes"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/5/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32347,
        ""poem.id"": 32347,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:57:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hope"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/7/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32348,
        ""poem.id"": 32348,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:57:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Those Who Pass Between Fleeting Words"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32349,
        ""poem.id"": 32349,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:58:01"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Diary Of A Palestinian Wound"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/5/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32350,
        ""poem.id"": 32350,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:58:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Earth Poem"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/16/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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    ""32351"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32351,
        ""poem.id"": 32351,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:58:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mural"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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    ""32352"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32352,
        ""poem.id"": 32352,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:58:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Belong There"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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    ""32353"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32353,
        ""poem.id"": 32353,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:58:17"",
        ""poem.title"": ""We Journey Towards A Home"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/16/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32354,
        ""poem.id"": 32354,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:58:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Here The Birds' Journey Ends"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/16/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32355,
        ""poem.id"": 32355,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:58:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Soldier Dreams Of White Lilies"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/5/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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    ""32356"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32356,
        ""poem.id"": 32356,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:58:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Poem Of The Land"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32357,
        ""poem.id"": 32357,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:58:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Don'T Apologize For What You'Ve Done"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/4/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32358,
        ""poem.id"": 32358,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:58:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Traveller"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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    ""32359"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32359,
        ""poem.id"": 32359,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:58:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""In Her Absence I Created Her Image"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32360,
        ""poem.id"": 32360,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:58:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Our Land"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32361,
        ""poem.id"": 32361,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:58:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To My Mother"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32362,
        ""poem.id"": 32362,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:58:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Am Yusuf Oh Father"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32363,
        ""poem.id"": 32363,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:59:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Earth Is Closing On Us"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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    ""32364"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32364,
        ""poem.id"": 32364,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:59:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Speech Of The Red Indian"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/5/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32365,
        ""poem.id"": 32365,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:59:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Palestine"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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    ""32366"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32366,
        ""poem.id"": 32366,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:59:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Lesson From The Kama-Sutra (Wait For Her)"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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    ""32367"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32367,
        ""poem.id"": 32367,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:59:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""In Jerusalem"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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    ""32368"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32368,
        ""poem.id"": 32368,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:59:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Rita And The Rifle"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
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    ""32369"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32369,
        ""poem.id"": 32369,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:59:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Nothing Impresses Me"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/16/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""32370"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32370,
        ""poem.id"": 32370,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:59:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Silence For Gaza"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""32371"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32371,
        ""poem.id"": 32371,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:59:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""And We Have Countries …"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""32372"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32372,
        ""poem.id"": 32372,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:59:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Prison Cell"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""32373"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32373,
        ""poem.id"": 32373,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:59:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""He Embraces His Murderer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/16/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""32374"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32374,
        ""poem.id"": 32374,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:59:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Dice Player"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""32375"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32375,
        ""poem.id"": 32375,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:59:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Bread"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/16/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""32376"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32376,
        ""poem.id"": 32376,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:59:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""No More And No Less"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""32377"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32377,
        ""poem.id"": 32377,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 19:59:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Lover From Palestine"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/5/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""32378"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32378,
        ""poem.id"": 32378,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:00:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Identity Card"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/3/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""32379"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32379,
        ""poem.id"": 32379,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:00:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""He Is Quiet And So Am I"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""32380"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32380,
        ""poem.id"": 32380,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:00:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Man And A Fawn Play Together In A Garden…"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""32381"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32381,
        ""poem.id"": 32381,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:00:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Psalm Three"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""32382"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32382,
        ""poem.id"": 32382,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:00:21"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Under Siege"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""32383"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32383,
        ""poem.id"": 32383,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:00:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Psalm 9"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": ""O rose beyond the reach of time and of the sensesO kiss enveloped in the scarves of all the windssurprise me with one dream that my madness will recoil from you Recoiling from youIn order to approach you I discovered timeApproaching youin order to recoil form youI discovered my sensesBetween approach and recoilthere is a stone the size of a dreamIt does not approachIt does not recoilYou are my countryA stone is not what I am therefore I do not like to face the sky not do I die level with the groundbut I am a stranger, always a strangerSubmitted by C.K."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""32384"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32384,
        ""poem.id"": 32384,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:00:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Passport"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    },
    ""32385"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32385,
        ""poem.id"": 32385,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:00:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Come From There"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Mahmoud Darwish""
    }
}"
145,"2018-02-28 21:11:09","John Clare","{
    ""3521"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3521,
        ""poem.id"": 3521,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:23:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""In Summer Showers A Skreeking Noise Is Heard"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/21/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""In summer showers a skreeking noise is heardDeep in the woods of some uncommon birdIt makes a loud and long and loud continued noiseAnd often stops the speed of men and boysThey think somebody mocks and goes alongAnd never thinks the nuthatch makes the songWho always comes along the summer guestThe birdnest hunters never found the nestThe schoolboy hears the noise from day to dayAnd stoops among the thorns to find a wayAnd starts the jay bird from the bushes greenHe looks and sees a nest he's never seenAnd takes the spotted eggs with many joysAnd thinks he found the bird that made the noise"",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3522"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3522,
        ""poem.id"": 3522,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:23:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Universal Epitaph"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/20/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""No flattering praises daub my stone,My frailties and my faults to hide;My faults and failings all are known—I liv'd in sin—in sin I died.And oh! condemn me not, I pray,You who my sad confession view;But ask your soul, if it can say,That I'm a viler man than you."",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3523"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3523,
        ""poem.id"": 3523,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:23:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""June"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/26/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""'Now summer is in flower and natures hum Is never silent round her sultry bloom Insects as small as dust are never done Wi' glittering dance and reeling in the sun And green wood fly and blossom haunting bee Are never weary of their melody Round field hedge now flowers in full glory twine Large bindweed bells wild hop and streakd woodbine That lift athirst their slender throated flowers Agape for dew falls and for honey showers These round each bush in sweet disorder run And spread their wild hues to the sultry sun.'"",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3524"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3524,
        ""poem.id"": 3524,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:23:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Badger"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/17/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""WHEN midnight comes a host of dogs and men Go out and track the badger to his den, And put a sack within the hole and lie Till the old grunting badger passes by. He comes and hears - they let the strongest loose. The old fox hears the noise and drops the goose. The poacher shoots and hurries from the cry, And the old hare half wounded buzzes by. They get a forkéd stick to bear him down And clap the dogs and take him to the town, And bait him all the day with many dogs, And laugh and shout and fright the scampering hogs. He runs along and bites at all he meets: They shout and hollo down the noisy streets. He turns about to face the loud uproar And drives the rebels to their very door. The frequent stone is hurled wher'er they go; When badgers fight, then everyone's a foe. The dogs are clapped and urged to join the fray; The badger turns and drives them all away. Though scarcely half as big, demure and small, He fights with dogs for hours and beats them all. The heavy mastiff, savage in the fray, Lies down and licks his feet and turns away. The bulldog knows his match and waxes cold The badger grins and never leaves his hold. He drives the crowd and follows at their heels And bites them through - the drunkard swears and reels. The frighted women take the boys away, The blackguard laughs and hurries on the fray. He tries to reach the woods, an awkward race, But sticks and cudgels quickly stop the chase. He turns again and drives the noisy crowd And beats the many dogs in noises loud. He drives away and beats them every one, And then they loose them all and set them on. He falls as dead and kicked by boys and men, Then starts and grins and drives the crowd again; Till kicked and torn and beaten out he lies And leaves his hold and cackles, groans and dies."",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3525"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3525,
        ""poem.id"": 3525,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:23:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mouse's Nest"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/17/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": ""I found a ball of grass among the hayAnd progged it as I passed and went away;And when I looked I fancied something stirred,And turned again and hoped to catch the bird —When out an old mouse bolted in the wheatsWith all her young ones hanging at her teats;She looked so odd and so grotesque to me,I ran and wondered what the thing could be,And pushed the knapweed bunches where I stood;Then the mouse hurried from the craking brood.The young ones squeaked, and as I went awayShe found her nest again among the hay.The water o'er the pebbles scarce could runAnd broad old cesspools glittered in the sun."",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3526"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3526,
        ""poem.id"": 3526,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:23:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sunday Dip"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3527"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3527,
        ""poem.id"": 3527,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:24:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Maid Of Jerusalem"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3528"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3528,
        ""poem.id"": 3528,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:24:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Spear Thistle"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3529"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3529,
        ""poem.id"": 3529,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:24:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Merry Maid"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3530"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3530,
        ""poem.id"": 3530,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:24:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Lout"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3531"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3531,
        ""poem.id"": 3531,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:24:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Peggy's The Lady Of The Hall"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3532"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3532,
        ""poem.id"": 3532,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:24:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""House Or Window Flies"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3533"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3533,
        ""poem.id"": 3533,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:24:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Ploughman Singing"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3534"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3534,
        ""poem.id"": 3534,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:24:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Maid Of Ocram, Or, Lord Gregory"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3535"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3535,
        ""poem.id"": 3535,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:24:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Nobody Cometh To Woo"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3536"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3536,
        ""poem.id"": 3536,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:24:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Beautiful Stranger"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3537"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3537,
        ""poem.id"": 3537,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:24:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Nature's Hymn To The Deity"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3538"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3538,
        ""poem.id"": 3538,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:24:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Sailor-Boy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3539"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3539,
        ""poem.id"": 3539,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:24:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Lass With The Delicate Air"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3540"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3540,
        ""poem.id"": 3540,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:25:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Scandal"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3541"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3541,
        ""poem.id"": 3541,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:25:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Market Day"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3542"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3542,
        ""poem.id"": 3542,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:25:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Cottager"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3543"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3543,
        ""poem.id"": 3543,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:25:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Patty Of The Vale"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3544"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3544,
        ""poem.id"": 3544,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:25:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Shepherd's Calendar - October"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3545"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3545,
        ""poem.id"": 3545,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:25:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mary Bateman"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3546"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3546,
        ""poem.id"": 3546,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:25:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Song #3"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3547"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3547,
        ""poem.id"": 3547,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:25:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Shepherd's Calendar - August"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3548"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3548,
        ""poem.id"": 3548,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:25:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Shepherds Calendar - July (2nd Version)"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3549"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3549,
        ""poem.id"": 3549,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:25:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Graves Of Infants"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3550"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3550,
        ""poem.id"": 3550,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:25:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Pleasures Of Fancy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3551"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3551,
        ""poem.id"": 3551,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:26:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Stonepit"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3552"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3552,
        ""poem.id"": 3552,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:26:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Idle Fame"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3553"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3553,
        ""poem.id"": 3553,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:26:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Song #2"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3554"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3554,
        ""poem.id"": 3554,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:26:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Field Path"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3555"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3555,
        ""poem.id"": 3555,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:26:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Peggy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3556"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3556,
        ""poem.id"": 3556,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:26:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Invitation To Eternity"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3557"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3557,
        ""poem.id"": 3557,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:26:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Impromptu"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3558"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3558,
        ""poem.id"": 3558,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:26:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Quail's Nest"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3559"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3559,
        ""poem.id"": 3559,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:26:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Signs Of Winter"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""3560"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3560,
        ""poem.id"": 3560,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:26:47"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Napoleon"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""32426"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32426,
        ""poem.id"": 32426,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:00:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sudden Shower"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32427"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32427,
        ""poem.id"": 32427,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:00:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Gipsy's Camp"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""32428"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32428,
        ""poem.id"": 32428,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:00:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Farm Breakfast"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32429"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32429,
        ""poem.id"": 32429,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:01:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To John Milton"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""32430"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32430,
        ""poem.id"": 32430,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:01:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Cellar Door"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32431"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32431,
        ""poem.id"": 32431,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:01:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Frightened Ploughman"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32432"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32432,
        ""poem.id"": 32432,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:01:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Crow Sat On The Willow"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32433"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32433,
        ""poem.id"": 32433,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:01:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Anna Three Years Old"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32434"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32434,
        ""poem.id"": 32434,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:01:21"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Shepherds Calendar - July"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32435"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32435,
        ""poem.id"": 32435,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:01:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Song #4"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32436"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32436,
        ""poem.id"": 32436,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:01:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Dyke Side"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32437"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32437,
        ""poem.id"": 32437,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:01:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Farewell And Defiance To Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32438"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32438,
        ""poem.id"": 32438,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:01:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sport In The Meadows"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32439"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32439,
        ""poem.id"": 32439,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:01:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Cross Roads; Or, The Haymaker's Story"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32440"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32440,
        ""poem.id"": 32440,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:01:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Song #5"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32441"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32441,
        ""poem.id"": 32441,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:01:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Shepherds Calendar - November"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32442"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32442,
        ""poem.id"": 32442,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:02:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Turkeys"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32443,
        ""poem.id"": 32443,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:02:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Farmer's Boy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32444,
        ""poem.id"": 32444,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:02:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Song #1"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32445,
        ""poem.id"": 32445,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:02:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Grasshoppers"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32446,
        ""poem.id"": 32446,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:02:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Now Is Past"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32447,
        ""poem.id"": 32447,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:02:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Shepherds Calendar - April"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32448,
        ""poem.id"": 32448,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:02:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Secret Love"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32449,
        ""poem.id"": 32449,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:02:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Vanities Of Life"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32450,
        ""poem.id"": 32450,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:02:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Stranger"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32451,
        ""poem.id"": 32451,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:02:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Shepherds Calendar - May"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32452"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32452,
        ""poem.id"": 32452,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:02:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Old Cottagers"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32453,
        ""poem.id"": 32453,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:02:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Fragment"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32454,
        ""poem.id"": 32454,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:02:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hodge"",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32455,
        ""poem.id"": 32455,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:03:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Winter Walk"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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    ""32456"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32456,
        ""poem.id"": 32456,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:03:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Firetail's Nest"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32457,
        ""poem.id"": 32457,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:03:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Shepherds Calendar - January- Winters Day"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32458"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32458,
        ""poem.id"": 32458,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:03:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Soldier"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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    ""32459"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32459,
        ""poem.id"": 32459,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:03:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Fox"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32460,
        ""poem.id"": 32460,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:03:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Fear Of Flowers"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32461,
        ""poem.id"": 32461,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:03:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Letter In Verse"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32462,
        ""poem.id"": 32462,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:03:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Swallow"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32463,
        ""poem.id"": 32463,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:03:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""In Hilly-Wood"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32464"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32464,
        ""poem.id"": 32464,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:03:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32465,
        ""poem.id"": 32465,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:03:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Shepherd's Calendar - September"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32466,
        ""poem.id"": 32466,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:03:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Thou Flower Of Summer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32467,
        ""poem.id"": 32467,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:03:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32468,
        ""poem.id"": 32468,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:04:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Winter's Come"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32469,
        ""poem.id"": 32469,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:04:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Rural Morning"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32470,
        ""poem.id"": 32470,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:04:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Birds In Alarm"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32471,
        ""poem.id"": 32471,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:04:17"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Little Trotty Wagtail"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32472,
        ""poem.id"": 32472,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:04:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Earth's Eternity"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32473,
        ""poem.id"": 32473,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:04:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Shepherds Calendar - March"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32474"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32474,
        ""poem.id"": 32474,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:04:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Bonny Mary O!"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32475,
        ""poem.id"": 32475,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:04:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Spring's Messengers"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32476,
        ""poem.id"": 32476,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:04:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Wood-Cutter's Night Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32477,
        ""poem.id"": 32477,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:04:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Love Cannot Die"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32478,
        ""poem.id"": 32478,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:04:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Dreamt Of Robin"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32479,
        ""poem.id"": 32479,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:04:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Sleep Of Spring"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32480,
        ""poem.id"": 32480,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:04:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Fens"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32481,
        ""poem.id"": 32481,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:05:01"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Wild Bees"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32482,
        ""poem.id"": 32482,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:05:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Distant Hills"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32483,
        ""poem.id"": 32483,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:05:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Firwood"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32484,
        ""poem.id"": 32484,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:05:17"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Early Spring"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32485,
        ""poem.id"": 32485,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:05:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Tramp"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32486"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32486,
        ""poem.id"": 32486,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:05:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Shepherds Calendar - February - A Thaw"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32487"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32487,
        ""poem.id"": 32487,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:05:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Shepherd's Calendar - June"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32488"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32488,
        ""poem.id"": 32488,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:05:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Snow Storm"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32489"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32489,
        ""poem.id"": 32489,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:05:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From The Parish: A Satire"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32490"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32490,
        ""poem.id"": 32490,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:05:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Ants"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32491"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32491,
        ""poem.id"": 32491,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:05:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Yellowhammer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32492"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32492,
        ""poem.id"": 32492,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:05:47"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Poet's Death"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32493"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32493,
        ""poem.id"": 32493,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:05:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Braggart"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32494"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32494,
        ""poem.id"": 32494,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:05:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Country Letter"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32495"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32495,
        ""poem.id"": 32495,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:06:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Bonny Lassie O!"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32496"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32496,
        ""poem.id"": 32496,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:06:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Peasant Poet"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32497"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32497,
        ""poem.id"": 32497,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:06:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Flitting"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32498"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32498,
        ""poem.id"": 32498,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:06:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Cuckoo"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32499"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32499,
        ""poem.id"": 32499,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:06:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Bantry Bay"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32500"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32500,
        ""poem.id"": 32500,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:06:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""November"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32501"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32501,
        ""poem.id"": 32501,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:06:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Gipsies"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32502"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32502,
        ""poem.id"": 32502,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:06:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""May"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32503"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32503,
        ""poem.id"": 32503,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:06:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Young Lambs"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32504"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32504,
        ""poem.id"": 32504,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:06:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Landrail"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32505"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32505,
        ""poem.id"": 32505,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:06:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Approaching Night"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32506"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32506,
        ""poem.id"": 32506,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:06:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Schoolboys In Winter"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32507"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32507,
        ""poem.id"": 32507,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:06:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Summer Images"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32508"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32508,
        ""poem.id"": 32508,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:06:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Wood Rides"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32509"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32509,
        ""poem.id"": 32509,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:06:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Dewdrops"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32510"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32510,
        ""poem.id"": 32510,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:06:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Maple Tree"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32511"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32511,
        ""poem.id"": 32511,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:07:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Shepherd's Tree"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32512"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32512,
        ""poem.id"": 32512,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:07:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Song's Eternity"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32513"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32513,
        ""poem.id"": 32513,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:07:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Night Wind"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32514"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32514,
        ""poem.id"": 32514,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:07:17"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Meet Me In The Green Glen"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32515"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32515,
        ""poem.id"": 32515,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:07:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Summer Evening"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32516"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32516,
        ""poem.id"": 32516,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:07:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A World For Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32517"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32517,
        ""poem.id"": 32517,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:07:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To A Fallen Elm"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32518"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32518,
        ""poem.id"": 32518,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:07:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Dying Child"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32519"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32519,
        ""poem.id"": 32519,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:07:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Insects"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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    ""32520"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32520,
        ""poem.id"": 32520,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:07:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Shepherds Calendar - December"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32521"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32521,
        ""poem.id"": 32521,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:07:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Fallen Elm"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32522"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32522,
        ""poem.id"": 32522,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:07:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Flood"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32523"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32523,
        ""poem.id"": 32523,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:07:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hen's Nest"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32524"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32524,
        ""poem.id"": 32524,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:08:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Christmass"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/13/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32525"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32525,
        ""poem.id"": 32525,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:08:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Decay"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32526"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32526,
        ""poem.id"": 32526,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:08:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Skylark"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32527"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32527,
        ""poem.id"": 32527,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:08:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Death"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32528"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32528,
        ""poem.id"": 32528,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:08:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Remembrances"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32529"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32529,
        ""poem.id"": 32529,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:08:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To John Clare"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32530"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32530,
        ""poem.id"": 32530,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:08:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Love Lives Beyond The Tomb"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32531"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32531,
        ""poem.id"": 32531,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:08:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Early Nightingale"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32532,
        ""poem.id"": 32532,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:08:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Where She Told Her Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32533,
        ""poem.id"": 32533,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:08:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Vixen"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32534,
        ""poem.id"": 32534,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:08:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Evening"",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32535,
        ""poem.id"": 32535,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:08:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Old Year"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poem.id"": 32536,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:08:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Vision"",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32537,
        ""poem.id"": 32537,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:09:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Instinct Of Hope"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32538,
        ""poem.id"": 32538,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:09:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Written In Northampton County Asylum"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32539,
        ""poem.id"": 32539,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:09:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Evening Primrose"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32540,
        ""poem.id"": 32540,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:09:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Mores"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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    ""32541"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32541,
        ""poem.id"": 32541,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:09:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Thrush's Nest"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32542"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32542,
        ""poem.id"": 32542,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:09:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Autumn Birds"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32543"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32543,
        ""poem.id"": 32543,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:09:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Winter's Spring"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32544,
        ""poem.id"": 32544,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:09:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Clock-O'-Clay"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32545"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32545,
        ""poem.id"": 32545,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:09:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Secret"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
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    ""32546"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32546,
        ""poem.id"": 32546,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:09:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Ballad"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
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    ""32547"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32547,
        ""poem.id"": 32547,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:09:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Christmas"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32548"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32548,
        ""poem.id"": 32548,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:09:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Mary"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32549"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32549,
        ""poem.id"": 32549,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:09:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Farewell"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32550"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32550,
        ""poem.id"": 32550,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:10:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Hid My Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
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    ""32551"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32551,
        ""poem.id"": 32551,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:10:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Nightingale's Nest"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""32552"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32552,
        ""poem.id"": 32552,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:10:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""What Is Life?"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""32553"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32553,
        ""poem.id"": 32553,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:10:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Badger"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": ""The badger grunting on his woodland trackWith shaggy hide and sharp nose scrowed with blackRoots in the bushes and the woods, and makesA great high burrow in the ferns and brakes.With nose on ground he runs an awkward pace,And anything will beat him in the race.The shepherd's dog will run him to his denFollowed and hooted by the dogs and men.The woodman when the hunting comes aboutGoes round at night to stop the foxes outAnd hurrying through the bushes to the chinBreaks the old holes, and tumbles headlong in.When midnight comes a host of dogs and menGo out and track the badger to his den,And put a sack within the hole, and lieTill the old grunting badger passes bye.He comes and hears—they let the strongest loose.The old fox hears the noise and drops the goose.The poacher shoots and hurries from the cry,And the old hare half wounded buzzes bye.They get a forked stick to bear him downAnd clap the dogs and take him to the town,And bait him all the day with many dogs,And laugh and shout and fright the scampering hogs.He runs along and bites at all he meets:They shout and hollo down the noisy streets.He turns about to face the loud uproarAnd drives the rebels to their very door.The frequent stone is hurled where e'er they go; When badgers fight, then every one's a foe.The dogs are clapt and urged to join the fray; The badger turns and drives them all away.Though scarcely half as big, demure and small,He fights with dogs for bones and beats them all.The heavy mastiff, savage in the fray,Lies down and licks his feet and turns away.The bulldog knows his match and waxes cold,The badger grins and never leaves his hold.He drives the crowd and follows at their heelsAnd bites them through—the drunkard swears and reels.The frighted women take the boys away,The blackguard laughs and hurries on the fray.He tries to reach the woods, an awkward race,But sticks and cudgels quickly stop the chase.He turns again and drives the noisy crowdAnd beats the many dogs in noises loud.He drives away and beats them every one,And then they loose them all and set them on.He falls as dead and kicked by boys and men,Then starts and grins and drives the crowd again; Till kicked and torn and beaten out he liesAnd leaves his hold and cackles, groans, and dies.Some keep a baited badger tame as hogAnd tame him till he follows like the dog.They urge him on like dogs and show fair play.He beats and scarcely wounded goes away.Lapt up as if asleep, he scorns to flyAnd seizes any dog that ventures nigh.Clapt like a dog, he never bites the menBut worries dogs and hurries to his den.They let him out and turn a harrow downAnd there he fights the host of all the town.He licks the patting hand, and tries to playAnd never tries to bite or run away,And runs away from the noise in hollow treesBurnt by the boys to get a swarm of bees."",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""32554"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32554,
        ""poem.id"": 32554,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:10:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Autumn"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""32555"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32555,
        ""poem.id"": 32555,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:10:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Emmonsail's Heath In Winter"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""32556"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32556,
        ""poem.id"": 32556,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:10:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""An Invite, To Eternity"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""32557"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32557,
        ""poem.id"": 32557,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:10:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Summer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""32558"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32558,
        ""poem.id"": 32558,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:10:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""All Nature Has A Feeling"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""32559"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32559,
        ""poem.id"": 32559,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:10:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""First Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    },
    ""32560"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32560,
        ""poem.id"": 32560,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:10:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Am"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""John Clare""
    }
}"
146,"2018-02-28 21:11:14","Brian Patten","{
    ""3561"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3561,
        ""poem.id"": 3561,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:26:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""First Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""7/10/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Falling in love was like falling down the stairsEach stair had her name on itAnd he went bouncing down each one like a tongue-tiedlunaticOne day of loving her was an ordinary yearHe transformed her into what he wantedAnd the scent from herWas the best scent in the worldFifteen he was fifteenEach night he dreamed of herEach day he telephoned herEach day was unfamiliarScary evenAnd the fear of her going weighed on him like a stoneAnd when he could not see her for two nights runningIt seemed a century had passedAnd meeting her and staring at her faceHe knew he would feel as he did foreverHopelessly in loveSick with itAnd not even knowing her second name yetIt was the first timeThe best timeA time that would last foreverBecause it was newBecause he was ignorant it could ever endIt was endless"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3562"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3562,
        ""poem.id"": 3562,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:26:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""There Is A Boat Down On The Quay"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/17/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3563"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3563,
        ""poem.id"": 3563,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:27:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""So Many Different Lengths Of Time"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/9/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""How long does a man live after all?A thousand days or only one?One week or a few centuries?How long does a man spend living or dyingand what do we mean when we say gone forever?Adrift in such preoccupations, we seek clarification.We can go to the philosophersbut they will weary of our questions.We can go to the priests and rabbisbut they might be busy with administrations.So, how long does a man live after all?And how much does he live while he lives?We fret and ask so many questions -then when it comes to usthe answer is so simple after all.A man lives for as long as we carry him inside us,for as long as we carry the harvest of his dreams,for as long as we ourselves live,holding memories in common, a man lives.His lover will carry his man's scent, his touch:his children will carry the weight of his love.One friend will carry his arguments,another will hum his favourite tunes,another will still share his terrors.And the days will pass with baffled faces,then the weeks, then the months,then there will be a day when no question is asked,and the knots of grief will loosen in the stomachand the puffed faces will calm.And on that day he will not have ceasedbut will have ceased to be separated by death.How long does a man live after all?A man lives so many different lengths of time."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3564"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3564,
        ""poem.id"": 3564,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:27:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mr Ifonly"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/17/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3565"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3565,
        ""poem.id"": 3565,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:27:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Remembering Snow"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/17/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3566"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3566,
        ""poem.id"": 3566,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:27:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Geography Lesson"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/17/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3567"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3567,
        ""poem.id"": 3567,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:27:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""One Another’s Light"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/8/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3568"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3568,
        ""poem.id"": 3568,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:27:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Newcomer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3569"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3569,
        ""poem.id"": 3569,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:27:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Nor The Sun Its Selling Power"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3570"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3570,
        ""poem.id"": 3570,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:27:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Doubt Shall Not Make An End Of You"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3571"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3571,
        ""poem.id"": 3571,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:27:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Innocence Of Any Flesh Sleeping"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3572"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3572,
        ""poem.id"": 3572,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:27:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Right Mask"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3573"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3573,
        ""poem.id"": 3573,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:27:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Party Piece"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3574"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3574,
        ""poem.id"": 3574,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:27:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""You Come To Me Quiet As Rain Not Yet Fallen"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3575"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3575,
        ""poem.id"": 3575,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:27:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""In Tintagel Graveyard"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3576"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3576,
        ""poem.id"": 3576,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:28:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sometimes It Happens"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3577"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3577,
        ""poem.id"": 3577,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:28:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Have Changed The Numbers On My Watch"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3578"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3578,
        ""poem.id"": 3578,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:28:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Minister For Exams"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3579"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3579,
        ""poem.id"": 3579,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:28:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Day I Got My Finger Stuck Up My Nose"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3580"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3580,
        ""poem.id"": 3580,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:28:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""When You Wake Tomorrow"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3581"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3581,
        ""poem.id"": 3581,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:28:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Gust Becos I Cud Not Spel"",
        ""poem.date"": ""8/16/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3582"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3582,
        ""poem.id"": 3582,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:28:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Simple Lyric"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    },
    ""3583"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3583,
        ""poem.id"": 3583,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:28:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""And Nothing Is Ever As You Want It To Be"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Brian Patten""
    }
}"
147,"2018-02-28 21:11:19","James Weldon Johnson","{
    ""3584"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3584,
        ""poem.id"": 3584,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:28:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Horace Bumstead"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3585"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3585,
        ""poem.id"": 3585,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:28:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Voluptas"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3586"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3586,
        ""poem.id"": 3586,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:28:47"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Possum Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3587"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3587,
        ""poem.id"": 3587,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:28:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Venus In The Garden"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3588"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3588,
        ""poem.id"": 3588,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:28:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Vashti"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3589"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3589,
        ""poem.id"": 3589,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:29:01"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Nobody's Lookin' But De Owl An' De Moon"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3590"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3590,
        ""poem.id"": 3590,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:29:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Omar"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3591"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3591,
        ""poem.id"": 3591,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:29:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Ghost Of Deacon Brown"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3592"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3592,
        ""poem.id"": 3592,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:29:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sonnet"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3593"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3593,
        ""poem.id"": 3593,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:29:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Seasons"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3594"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3594,
        ""poem.id"": 3594,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:29:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Gift To Sing"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3595"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3595,
        ""poem.id"": 3595,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:29:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Temptress"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3596"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3596,
        ""poem.id"": 3596,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:29:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Glory Of The Day Was In Her Face"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": ""The glory of the day was in her face,The beauty of the night was in her eyes.And over all her loveliness, the graceOf Morning blushing in the early skies.And in her voice, the calling of the dove; Like music of a sweet, melodious part.And in her smile, the breaking light of love; And all the gentle virtues in her heart.And now the glorious day, the beauteous night,The birds that signal to their mates at dawn,To my dull ears, to my tear-blinded sightAre one with all the dead, since she is gone."",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3597"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3597,
        ""poem.id"": 3597,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:29:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Color Sergeant"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3598"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3598,
        ""poem.id"": 3598,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:29:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""O Southland!"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3599"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3599,
        ""poem.id"": 3599,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:29:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Ma Lady's Lips Am Like De Honey"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3600"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3600,
        ""poem.id"": 3600,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:29:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""You's Sweet To Yo' Mammy De Same"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3601"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3601,
        ""poem.id"": 3601,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:30:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Rivals"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3602"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3602,
        ""poem.id"": 3602,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:30:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Young Warrior"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3603"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3603,
        ""poem.id"": 3603,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:30:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Suicide"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3604"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3604,
        ""poem.id"": 3604,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:30:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Life"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3605"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3605,
        ""poem.id"": 3605,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:30:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sence You Went Away"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3606"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3606,
        ""poem.id"": 3606,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:30:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sleep"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3607"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3607,
        ""poem.id"": 3607,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:30:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Word Of An Engineer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3608"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3608,
        ""poem.id"": 3608,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:30:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""O Black And Unknown Bards"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3609"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3609,
        ""poem.id"": 3609,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:30:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Reward"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3610"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3610,
        ""poem.id"": 3610,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:30:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The White Witch"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3611"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3611,
        ""poem.id"": 3611,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:30:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mother Night"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3612"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3612,
        ""poem.id"": 3612,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:31:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To America"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3613"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3613,
        ""poem.id"": 3613,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:31:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Lazy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3614"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3614,
        ""poem.id"": 3614,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:31:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Ghosts Of The Old Year"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3615"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3615,
        ""poem.id"": 3615,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:31:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Prayer At Sunrise"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3616"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3616,
        ""poem.id"": 3616,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:31:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Morning, Noon And Night"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3617"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3617,
        ""poem.id"": 3617,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:31:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Black Mammy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3618"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3618,
        ""poem.id"": 3618,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:31:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Awakening"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3619"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3619,
        ""poem.id"": 3619,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:31:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Prodigal Son"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3620"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3620,
        ""poem.id"": 3620,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:31:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Her Eyes Twin Pools"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3621"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3621,
        ""poem.id"": 3621,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:31:47"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Banjo Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3622"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3622,
        ""poem.id"": 3622,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:31:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""July In Georgy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""3623"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3623,
        ""poem.id"": 3623,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:31:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""De Little Pickaninny's Gone To Sleep"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32647"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32647,
        ""poem.id"": 32647,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:10:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Girl Of Fifteen"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32648"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32648,
        ""poem.id"": 32648,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:10:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Down By The Carib Sea"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32649"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32649,
        ""poem.id"": 32649,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:11:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Brer Rabbit You's De Cutes' Of 'Em All"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32650"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32650,
        ""poem.id"": 32650,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:11:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From The German Of Uhland"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32651"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32651,
        ""poem.id"": 32651,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:11:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Dat Gal O' Mine"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32652"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32652,
        ""poem.id"": 32652,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:11:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From The Spanish Of Placido"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32653"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32653,
        ""poem.id"": 32653,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:11:17"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Before A Painting"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32654"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32654,
        ""poem.id"": 32654,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:11:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Deep In The Quiet Wood"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32655"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32655,
        ""poem.id"": 32655,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:11:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From The Spanish"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32656"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32656,
        ""poem.id"": 32656,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:11:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""And The Greatest Of These Is War"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32657"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32657,
        ""poem.id"": 32657,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:11:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Brothers"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32658"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32658,
        ""poem.id"": 32658,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:11:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Fifty Years (1863-1913)"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32659"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32659,
        ""poem.id"": 32659,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:11:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Hear The Stars Still Singing"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32660"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32660,
        ""poem.id"": 32660,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:11:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Father, Father Abraham"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32661"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32661,
        ""poem.id"": 32661,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:11:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Beauty That Is Never Old"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32662"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32662,
        ""poem.id"": 32662,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:12:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""An Explanation"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32663"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32663,
        ""poem.id"": 32663,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:12:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Poet To His Baby Son"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32664"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32664,
        ""poem.id"": 32664,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:12:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Fragment"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32665"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32665,
        ""poem.id"": 32665,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:12:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Mid-Day Dreamer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32666"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32666,
        ""poem.id"": 32666,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:12:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Listen, Lord: A Prayer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/20/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32667"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32667,
        ""poem.id"": 32667,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:12:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Lift Every Voice And Sing"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/20/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32668"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32668,
        ""poem.id"": 32668,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:12:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Go Down, Death"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/20/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    },
    ""32669"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32669,
        ""poem.id"": 32669,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:12:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Creation"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/20/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": ""And God stepped out on space,And he looked around and said:I'm lonely--I'll make me a world.And far as the eye of God could seeDarkness covered everything,Blacker than a hundred midnightsDown in a cypress swamp.Then God smiled,And the light broke,And the darkness rolled up on one side,And the light stood shining on the other,And God said: That's good!Then God reached out and took the light in his hands,And God rolled the light around in his handsUntil he made the sun;And he set that sun a-blazing in the heavens.And the light that was left from making the sunGod gathered it up in a shining ballAnd flung it against the darkness,Spangling the night with the moon and stars.Then down betweenThe darkness and the lightHe hurled the world;And God said: That's good!Then God himself stepped down--And the sun was on his right hand,And the moon was on his left;The stars were clustered about his head,And the earth was under his feet.And God walked, and where he trodHis footsteps hollowed the valleys outAnd bulged the mountains up.Then he stopped and looked and sawThat the earth was hot and barren.So God stepped over to the edge of the worldAnd he spat out the seven seas--He batted his eyes, and the lightnings flashed--He clapped his hands, and the thunders rolled--And the waters above the earth came down,The cooling waters came down.Then the green grass sprouted,And the little red flowers blossomed,The pine tree pointed his finger to the sky,And the oak spread out his arms,The lakes cuddled down in the hollows of the ground,And the rivers ran down to the sea;And God smiled again, And the rainbow appeared,And curled itself around his shoulder.Then God raised his arm and he waved his handOver the sea and over the land,And he said: Bring forth! Bring forth!And quicker than God could drop his hand,Fishes and fowlsAnd beasts and birdsSwam the rivers and the seas,Roamed the forests and the woods,And split the air with their wings.And God said: That's good!Then God walked around,And God looked aroundOn all that he had made.He looked at his sun, And he looked at his moon,And he looked at his little stars;He looked on his worldWith all its living things,And God said: I'm lonely still.Then God sat down--On the side of a hill where he could think;By a deep, wide river he sat down;With his head in his hands,God thought and thought,Till he thought: I'll make me a man!Up from the bed of the riverGod scooped the clay;And by the bank of the riverHe kneeled him down;And there the great God AlmightyWho lit the sun and fixed it in the sky, Who flung the stars to the most far corner of the night,Who rounded the earth in the middle of his hand;This great God,Like a mammy bending over her baby,Kneeled down in the dustToiling over a lump of clayTill he shaped it in is his own image;Then into it he blew the breath of life,And man became a living soul.Amen.Amen."",
        ""poem.author"": ""James Weldon Johnson""
    }
}"
148,"2018-02-28 00:56:42","Countee Cullen","{
    ""3624"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3624,
        ""poem.id"": 3624,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:32:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Youth Sings A Song Of Rosebuds"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3625"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3625,
        ""poem.id"": 3625,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:32:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""In Memory Of Col. Charles Young"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3626"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3626,
        ""poem.id"": 3626,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:32:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Uncle Jim"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3627"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3627,
        ""poem.id"": 3627,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:32:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To John Keats, Poet, At Spring Time"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3628"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3628,
        ""poem.id"": 3628,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:32:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Lines To My Father"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3629"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3629,
        ""poem.id"": 3629,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:32:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""She Of The Dancing Feet Sings"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3630"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3630,
        ""poem.id"": 3630,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:32:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Karenge Ya Marenge"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3631"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3631,
        ""poem.id"": 3631,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:32:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Have A Rendezvous With Life"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3632"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3632,
        ""poem.id"": 3632,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:32:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Song In Spite Of Myself"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3633"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3633,
        ""poem.id"": 3633,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:32:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To A Brown Boy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3634"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3634,
        ""poem.id"": 3634,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:32:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Thoughts In A Zoo"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3635"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3635,
        ""poem.id"": 3635,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:32:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Tableau"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3636"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3636,
        ""poem.id"": 3636,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:32:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Harlem Wine"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3637"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3637,
        ""poem.id"": 3637,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:33:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""That Bright Chimeric Beast"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3638"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3638,
        ""poem.id"": 3638,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:33:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Certain Critics"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3639"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3639,
        ""poem.id"": 3639,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:33:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Shroud Of Color"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/20/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3640"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3640,
        ""poem.id"": 3640,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:33:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""For A Lady I Know"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3641"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3641,
        ""poem.id"": 3641,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:33:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Simon The Cyrenian Speaks"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3642"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3642,
        ""poem.id"": 3642,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:33:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Saturday's Child"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3643"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3643,
        ""poem.id"": 3643,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:33:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Yet Do I Marvel"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3644"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3644,
        ""poem.id"": 3644,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:33:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""For A Poet"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3645"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3645,
        ""poem.id"": 3645,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:33:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Heritage"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/20/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": ""What is Africa to me:Copper sun or scarlet sea,Jungle star or jungle track,Strong bronzed men, or regal blackWomen from whose loins I sprangWhen the birds of Eden sang?One three centuries removedFrom the scenes his fathers loved,Spicy grove, cinnamon tree,What is Africa to me?So I lie, who all day longWant no sound except the songSung by wild barbaric birdsGoading massive jungle herds,Juggernauts of flesh that passTrampling tall defiant grassWhere young forest lovers lie,Plighting troth beneath the sky.So I lie, who always hear,Though I cram against my earBoth my thumbs, and keep them there,Great drums throbbing through the air.So I lie, whose fount of pride,Dear distress, and joy allied,Is my somber flesh and skin,With the dark blood dammed withinLike great pulsing tides of wineThat, I fear, must burst the fineChannels of the chafing netWhere they surge and foam and fret.Africa?A book one thumbsListlessly, till slumber comes.Unremembered are her batsCircling through the night, her catsCrouching in the river reeds,Stalking gentle flesh that feedsBy the river brink; no moreDoes the bugle-throated roarCry that monarch claws have leaptFrom the scabbards where they slept.Silver snakes that once a yearDoff the lovely coats you wear,Seek no covert in your fearLest a mortal eye should see;What's your nakedness to me?Here no leprous flowers rearFierce corollas in the air;Here no bodies sleek and wet,Dripping mingled rain and sweat,Tread the savage measures of Jungle boys and girls in love.What is last year's snow to me,Last year's anything?The treeBudding yearly must forgetHow its past arose or set­­Bough and blossom, flower, fruit,Even what shy bird with muteWonder at her travail there,Meekly labored in its hair.One three centuries removedFrom the scenes his fathers loved,Spicy grove, cinnamon tree,What is Africa to me?So I lie, who find no peaceNight or day, no slight releaseFrom the unremittent beatMade by cruel padded feetWalking through my body's street.Up and down they go, and back,Treading out a jungle track.So I lie, who never quiteSafely sleep from rain at night--I can never rest at allWhen the rain begins to fall;Like a soul gone mad with painI must match its weird refrain;Ever must I twist and squirm,Writhing like a baited worm,While its primal measures dripThrough my body, crying, \"Strip!Doff this new exuberance.Come and dance the Lover's Dance!\"In an old remembered wayRain works on me night and day.Quaint, outlandish heathen godsBlack men fashion out of rods,Clay, and brittle bits of stone,In a likeness like their own,My conversion came high-priced;I belong to Jesus Christ,Preacher of humility;Heathen gods are naught to me.Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,So I make an idle boast;Jesus of the twice-turned cheek,Lamb of God, although I speakWith my mouth thus, in my heartDo I play a double part.Ever at Thy glowing altarMust my heart grow sick and falter,Wishing He I served were black,Thinking then it would not lackPrecedent of pain to guide it,Let who would or might deride it;Surely then this flesh would knowYours had borne a kindred woe.Lord, I fashion dark gods, too,Daring even to give YouDark despairing features where,Crowned with dark rebellious hair,Patience wavers just so much asMortal grief compels, while touchesQuick and hot, of anger, riseTo smitten cheek and weary eyes.Lord, forgive me if my needSometimes shapes a human creed.All day long and all night through,One thing only must I do:Quench my pride and cool my blood,Lest I perish in the flood.Lest a hidden ember setTimber that I thought was wetBurning like the dryest flax,Melting like the merest wax,Lest the grave restore its dead.Not yet has my heart or headIn the least way realizedThey and I are civilized."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3646"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3646,
        ""poem.id"": 3646,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:33:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""From The Dark Tower"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3647"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3647,
        ""poem.id"": 3647,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:33:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Wise"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3648"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3648,
        ""poem.id"": 3648,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:33:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Loss Of Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3649"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3649,
        ""poem.id"": 3649,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:33:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Fruit Of The Flower"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3650"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3650,
        ""poem.id"": 3650,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:33:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Brown Girl Dead"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/6/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    },
    ""3651"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3651,
        ""poem.id"": 3651,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:33:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Incident"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Countee Cullen""
    }
}"
149,"2018-02-28 21:11:34","Edward Lear","{
    ""3652"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3652,
        ""poem.id"": 3652,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:34:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Person Of Tring"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3653"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3653,
        ""poem.id"": 3653,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:34:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Person Of Rheims"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3654"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3654,
        ""poem.id"": 3654,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:34:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Person Of Basing"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3655"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3655,
        ""poem.id"": 3655,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:34:21"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of The Wrekin"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3656"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3656,
        ""poem.id"": 3656,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:34:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of Tobago"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3657"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3657,
        ""poem.id"": 3657,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:34:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of Vesuvius,"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3658"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3658,
        ""poem.id"": 3658,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:34:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of Vienna"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3659"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3659,
        ""poem.id"": 3659,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:34:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Person Of Paxo"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3660"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3660,
        ""poem.id"": 3660,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:34:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Person Of Bangor"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3661"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3661,
        ""poem.id"": 3661,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:34:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was A Young Lady Of Parma"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3662"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3662,
        ""poem.id"": 3662,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:34:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Person Of Wick"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3663"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3663,
        ""poem.id"": 3663,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:34:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Person Of Mold"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3664"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3664,
        ""poem.id"": 3664,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:34:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Person Of Chili"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3665"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3665,
        ""poem.id"": 3665,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:35:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man On Some Rocks,"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3666"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3666,
        ""poem.id"": 3666,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:35:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Person Of Dover"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3667"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3667,
        ""poem.id"": 3667,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:35:17"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Person Of Troy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3668"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3668,
        ""poem.id"": 3668,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:35:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Who Felt Pert"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3669"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3669,
        ""poem.id"": 3669,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:35:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Person In Black"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3670"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3670,
        ""poem.id"": 3670,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:35:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Person Of Leeds"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3671"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3671,
        ""poem.id"": 3671,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:35:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of The Nile,"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3672"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3672,
        ""poem.id"": 3672,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:35:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man With A Gong"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3673"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3673,
        ""poem.id"": 3673,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:35:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Person Of Dutton"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3674"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3674,
        ""poem.id"": 3674,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:35:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was An Old Man At A Casement"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3675"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3675,
        ""poem.id"": 3675,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:35:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Sailor Of Compton"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3676"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3676,
        ""poem.id"": 3676,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:35:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Person Of Cadiz"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3677"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3677,
        ""poem.id"": 3677,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:36:01"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man With A Nose"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3678"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3678,
        ""poem.id"": 3678,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:36:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Person Of Buda"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3679"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3679,
        ""poem.id"": 3679,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:36:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of The Isles"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3680"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3680,
        ""poem.id"": 3680,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:36:17"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of The West"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3681"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3681,
        ""poem.id"": 3681,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:36:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of The North"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3682"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3682,
        ""poem.id"": 3682,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-02-28 05:38:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Who, When Little"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": """"
    },
    ""3683"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3683,
        ""poem.id"": 3683,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:37:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was An Old Person Of Berlin"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3684"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3684,
        ""poem.id"": 3684,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:37:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was An Old Person Of Burton"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3685"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3685,
        ""poem.id"": 3685,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:37:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Person Whose Habits,"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3686"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3686,
        ""poem.id"": 3686,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:37:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man On A Hill"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3687"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3687,
        ""poem.id"": 3687,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:38:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was A Young Lady Of Troy,"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3688"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3688,
        ""poem.id"": 3688,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:38:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Whose Despair"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3689"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3689,
        ""poem.id"": 3689,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:38:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Who Said, 'Hush!"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""3690"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3690,
        ""poem.id"": 3690,
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        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Who Said, 'How"",
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 3691,
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        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32710,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:12:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was A Young Girl Of Majorca"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32712,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:12:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was A Young Lady Of Lucca"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32713,
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32714,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:12:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was An Old Man Of The Cape"",
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32715,
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32716,
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32717,
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32718,
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        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man With A Flute"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32719,
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32720,
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        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was An Old Man Of Marseilles"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32721,
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32722,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:13:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was A Young Lady Of Russia"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32723,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:13:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was A Young Lady Of Welling"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32724,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:13:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was A Young Lady Of Wales"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32725,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:13:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was An Old Person Of Spain"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32726,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:13:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was An Old Person From Gretna"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32727,
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32728,
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32729,
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32730,
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32731,
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32733,
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        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of Kildare"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32734,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:14:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was A Young Lady Of Sweden"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was An Old Lady Of Prague"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was Old Man In A Pew"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32737,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:14:43"",
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of Kamschatka"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32739,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:14:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Lady Of Winchelsea"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32742,
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32743,
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        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of Corfu"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32744,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:15:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of Coblenz"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32745,
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32746,
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was An Old Man Of Calcutta"",
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of Th' Abruzzi"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.title"": ""Mr. And Mrs.Spikky Sparrow"",
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32751,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:15:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mr And Mrs Discobbolos"",
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32752,
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        ""poem.id"": 32753,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:15:53"",
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32754,
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        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of Jamaica"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32755,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:16:00"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32756,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:16:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of Columbia"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32757,
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        ""poem.id"": 32758,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:16:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was A Young Lady Of Clare"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:16:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Broom, The Shovel, The Poker And The Tongs"",
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        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32760,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:16:14"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32761,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:16:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was An Old Person Of Chester"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32762,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:16:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of Bohemia"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32763,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:16:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was An Old Man With A Owl"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32764,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:16:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of Dundee"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32765,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:16:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick:There Was An Old Man With A Beard"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32766,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:16:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of The East"",
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        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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        ""poem.id"": 32767,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:16:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of Hong Kong"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
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    ""32768"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32768,
        ""poem.id"": 32768,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:16:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of Madras"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32769"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32769,
        ""poem.id"": 32769,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:16:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Lady Of Chertsey"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32770"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32770,
        ""poem.id"": 32770,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:16:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Ol Man Of Quebec"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32771"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32771,
        ""poem.id"": 32771,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:16:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Cummerbund: An Indian Poem"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32772"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32772,
        ""poem.id"": 32772,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:17:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of Kilkenny"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32773"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32773,
        ""poem.id"": 32773,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:17:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was A Young Person Of Smyrna,"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32774"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32774,
        ""poem.id"": 32774,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:17:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Two Old Bachelors"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32775"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32775,
        ""poem.id"": 32775,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:17:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man In A Boat"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32776"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32776,
        ""poem.id"": 32776,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:17:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The New Vestments"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32777"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32777,
        ""poem.id"": 32777,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:17:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Nutcrackers And The Sugar-Tongs"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32778"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32778,
        ""poem.id"": 32778,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:17:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mrs Jaypher"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32779"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32779,
        ""poem.id"": 32779,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:17:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was A Young Lady Of Turkey"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32780"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32780,
        ""poem.id"": 32780,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:17:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Derry Down Derry,"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32781"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32781,
        ""poem.id"": 32781,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:17:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was A Young Lady Of Ryde"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32782"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32782,
        ""poem.id"": 32782,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:17:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was A Young Lady Of Tyre"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32783"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32783,
        ""poem.id"": 32783,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:17:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was A Young Lady Of Poole"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32784"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32784,
        ""poem.id"": 32784,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:18:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was A Young Person Of Crete"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32785"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32785,
        ""poem.id"": 32785,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:18:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was A Young Person Whose History"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32786"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32786,
        ""poem.id"": 32786,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:18:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was A Young Lady Whose Bonnet"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32787"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32787,
        ""poem.id"": 32787,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:18:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was An Old Man Of Peru"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32788"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32788,
        ""poem.id"": 32788,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:18:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was A Young Lady Of Portugal"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32789"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32789,
        ""poem.id"": 32789,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:18:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Parody Of Tennyson'sto Edward Lear On His Travels In Greece"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32790"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32790,
        ""poem.id"": 32790,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:18:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Daddy Long-Legs And The Fly"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32791"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32791,
        ""poem.id"": 32791,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:18:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Teapots And Quails"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32792"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32792,
        ""poem.id"": 32792,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:18:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Pelican Chorus"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32793"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32793,
        ""poem.id"": 32793,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:18:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was A Young Lady Whose Nose"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32794"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32794,
        ""poem.id"": 32794,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:18:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Table And The Chair"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32795"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32795,
        ""poem.id"": 32795,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:18:47"",
        ""poem.title"": ""He Lived At Dingle Bank"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32796"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32796,
        ""poem.id"": 32796,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:18:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: The Was A Young Lady Of Bute"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32797"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32797,
        ""poem.id"": 32797,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:18:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Incidents In The Life Of My Uncle Arly"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32798"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32798,
        ""poem.id"": 32798,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:18:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was A Young Lady Of Hull"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32799"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32799,
        ""poem.id"": 32799,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:19:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was A Young Lady In White"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32800"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32800,
        ""poem.id"": 32800,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:19:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was A Young Lady Of Norway,"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32801"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32801,
        ""poem.id"": 32801,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:19:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Duck And The Kangaroo"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32802"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32802,
        ""poem.id"": 32802,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:19:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was A Young Lady Whose Chin"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32803"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32803,
        ""poem.id"": 32803,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:19:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Limerick: There Was A Young Lady Of Dorking,"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32804"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32804,
        ""poem.id"": 32804,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:19:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Imitation Of The Olden Poets"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32805"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32805,
        ""poem.id"": 32805,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:19:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Nonsense Alphabet"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32806"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32806,
        ""poem.id"": 32806,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:19:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Calicoe Pie"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32807"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32807,
        ""poem.id"": 32807,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:19:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""There Was An Old Man Of Thermopylae"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32808"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32808,
        ""poem.id"": 32808,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:19:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Courtship Of The Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32809"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32809,
        ""poem.id"": 32809,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:19:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Akond Of Swat"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32810"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32810,
        ""poem.id"": 32810,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:19:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""There Was An Old Man On The Border"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32811"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32811,
        ""poem.id"": 32811,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:19:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""There Was An Old Lady Whose Folly"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32812"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32812,
        ""poem.id"": 32812,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:19:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Cold Are The Crabs"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32813"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32813,
        ""poem.id"": 32813,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:20:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Dong With A Luminous Nose"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32814"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32814,
        ""poem.id"": 32814,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:20:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""There Was A Young Lady Whose Eyes"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32815"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32815,
        ""poem.id"": 32815,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:20:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Quangle Wangle's Hat"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32816"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32816,
        ""poem.id"": 32816,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:20:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""There Was An Old Man Of New York"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32817"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32817,
        ""poem.id"": 32817,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:20:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""There Was An Old Man Of Calcutta"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32818"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32818,
        ""poem.id"": 32818,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:20:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""There Was An Old Person Of Nice"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2004"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32819"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32819,
        ""poem.id"": 32819,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:20:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Alphabet Poem"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2010"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32820"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32820,
        ""poem.id"": 32820,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:20:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""There Was An Old Man With A Beard"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Your browser does not support the audio element."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32821"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32821,
        ""poem.id"": 32821,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:20:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Jumblies"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": ""They went to sea in a Sieve, they did, In a Sieve they went to sea: In spite of all their friends could say, On a winter's morn, on a stormy day, In a Sieve they went to sea! And when the Sieve turned round and round, And every one cried, `You'll all be drowned!' They called aloud, `Our Sieve ain't big, But we don't care a button! we don't care a fig! In a Sieve we'll go to sea!' Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve.They sailed away in a Sieve, they did, In a Sieve they sailed so fast, With only a beautiful pea-green veil Tied with a riband by way of a sail, To a small tobacco-pipe mast; And every one said, who saw them go, `O won't they be soon upset, you know! For the sky is dark, and the voyage is long, And happen what may, it's extremely wrong In a Sieve to sail so fast!' Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve.The water it soon came in, it did, The water it soon came in; So to keep them dry, they wrapped their feet In a pinky paper all folded neat, And they fastened it down with a pin. And they passed the night in a crockery-jar, And each of them said, `How wise we are! Though the sky be dark, and the voyage be long, Yet we never can think we were rash or wrong, While round in our Sieve we spin!' Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve.And all night long they sailed away; And when the sun went down, They whistled and warbled a moony song To the echoing sound of a coppery gong, In the shade of the mountains brown. `O Timballo! How happy we are, When we live in a Sieve and a crockery-jar, And all night long in the moonlight pale, We sail away with a pea-green sail, In the shade of the mountains brown!' Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve. They sailed to the Western Sea, they did, To a land all covered with trees, And they bought an Owl, and a useful Cart, And a pound of Rice, and a Cranberry Tart, And a hive of silvery Bees. And they bought a Pig, and some green Jack-daws, And a lovely Monkey with lollipop paws, And forty bottles of Ring-Bo-Ree, And no end of Stilton Cheese. Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve. And in twenty years they all came back, In twenty years or more, And every one said, `How tall they've grown! For they've been to the Lakes, and the Torrible Zone, And the hills of the Chankly Bore!' And they drank their health, and gave them a feast Of dumplings made of beautiful yeast; And every one said, `If we only live, We too will go to sea in a Sieve,--- To the hills of the Chankly Bore!' Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32822"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32822,
        ""poem.id"": 32822,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:20:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Pobble Who Has No Toes"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": ""The Pobble who has no toesHad once as many as we;When they said \"Some day you may lose them all;\"He replied \"Fish, fiddle-de-dee!\"And his Aunt Jobiska made him drinkLavender water tinged with pink,For she said \"The World in general knowsThere's nothing so good for a Pobble's toes!\"The Pobble who has no toesSwam across the Bristol Channel;But before he set out he wrapped his noseIn a piece of scarlet flannel.For his Aunt Jobiska said \"No harmCan come to his toes if his nose is warm;And it's perfectly known that a Pobble's toesAre safe, -- provided he minds his nose!\"The Pobble swam fast and well,And when boats or ships came near him,He tinkledy-blinkledy-winkled a bell,So that all the world could hear him.And all the Sailors and Admirals cried,When they saw him nearing the further side -\"He has gone to fish for his Aunt Jobiska'sRuncible Cat with crimson whiskers!\"But before he touched the shore,The shore of the Bristol Channel,A sea-green porpoise carried awayHis wrapper of scarlet flannel.And when he came to observe his feet,Formerly garnished with toes so neat,His face at once became forlorn,On perceiving that all his toes were gone!And nobody ever knew,From that dark day to the present,Whoso had taken the Pobble's toes,In a manner so far from pleasant.Whether the shrimps, or crawfish grey,Or crafty Mermaids stole them away -Nobody knew: and nobody knowsHow the Pobble was robbed of his twice five toes!The Pobble who has no toesWas placed in a friendly Bark,And they rowed him back, and carried him upTo his Aunt Jobiska's Park.And she made him a feast at his earnest wishOf eggs and buttercups fried with fish, -And she said \"It's a fact the whole world knows,That Pobbles are happier without their toes!\""",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32823"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32823,
        ""poem.id"": 32823,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:20:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""There Was An Old Man In A Tree"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32824"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32824,
        ""poem.id"": 32824,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:20:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Owl And The Pussy-Cat"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Your browser does not support the audio element."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    },
    ""32825"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32825,
        ""poem.id"": 32825,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:20:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""How Pleasant To Know Mr. Lear"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/3/2003"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Your browser does not support the audio element."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Edward Lear""
    }
}"
150,"2018-02-28 21:11:54","Sayeed Abubakar","{
    ""3692"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3692,
        ""poem.id"": 3692,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:38:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My Poetry"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/9/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3693"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3693,
        ""poem.id"": 3693,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:38:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Hero's Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/12/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3694"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3694,
        ""poem.id"": 3694,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:38:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""O My Love Red Red Rose"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/30/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3695"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3695,
        ""poem.id"": 3695,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:38:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My Daughter"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/18/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3696"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3696,
        ""poem.id"": 3696,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:38:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Wish Nothing But Your Company"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/27/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": ""It's a small hut among the innumerable stars of the skyhaving windows between each one hand gap; through those windows, the light of stars enters in; eyes get stuck to half light and half darkness; it is neither a day nor a night- what a sight it is! lying on the bed, watching the sky is the only task that has no end; fascination remains in two eyes, joy within heart; in that desolation, O my Love, I wish nothing but your company."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3697"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3697,
        ""poem.id"": 3697,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:38:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My Heart Aches"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/7/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3698"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3698,
        ""poem.id"": 3698,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:38:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""There Is None"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/13/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3699"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3699,
        ""poem.id"": 3699,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:38:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Valuable And More Valuable"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/20/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3700"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3700,
        ""poem.id"": 3700,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:38:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mad: 4"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/14/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3701"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3701,
        ""poem.id"": 3701,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:39:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Songs"",
        ""poem.date"": ""7/10/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": ""1.Day comes and dark night goes; It is high time you rose.Don't sleep more, o brothers.If you rise, Darkness dies, Sun will peek in the sky happily with others.How do you sleepclosing your door? When everywhereCry all the poor? Crying women; Dying children; Listen, crying mankind, old fathers and mothers.2.Recite La Ilaha Illalla.Fight for La Ilaha Illalla.None is God but Allah.Who blows the wind? Allah.Who is so kind? Allah.He keeps us fine.For our guidelinehe has sent the Quran and Mohammad Rasulullah.Allah is our creator, Mohammad our Prophet.We do worship Allahand the Satan we hate.Who gives water? Allah.Son and daughter? Allah.He gives us allboth big and small, best gift is the Quran and Mohammad Rasulullah.3.Jews are dancing in Gaza; Europe is laughing.Muslims are dying in Gaza; America is laughing.Where are you, O Humanity, What's happening on earth, come here and see.How many death is called massacre? How many death is called genocide? The Jew-beasts are blindly hunting lives; Thousands of children-women have died.Here is flowing the red blood-sea.Where are you, O Humanity, What's happening on earth, come here and see.Rise, all the youths of the Muslim world.How long this way will you stay asleep? It is time to uproot Israel; It is time for you to howl and leap.Tear up Jew-beasts' brutality. Where are you, O Humanity, What's happening on earth, come here and see.4.Come to salat, O man, To fulfil your Iman.Salat is the door to ZannahWhich is full of hoor and manna.Our Present, Past and TomorrowWill be full of sigh and sorrowIf we forget to pray, If we forget to say, 'We only love and worship you, O Lord Rahman.'Salat is the Miraj of thoseWho love Allah purely as Rose.Salat five times a dayCures those men's souls who say, 'There's no god but Allah; only He is Rahman.'5.People on earth are crying; Women-children are dying; We need here you, ya rasulullahYa nabi, ya habibullah.People on earth want peace, want mercy and justice; Who can give it but you, ya rasulullah? Ya nabi, ya habibullah.You knew how to love man, and knew how to forgive; When all were in darkness, you gave new life to live.Darkness is now on earth; Babies are crying from birth; Who can save them but you, ya rasulullah? Ya nabi, ya habibullah.23 Ramadan 143611/07/2015"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3702"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3702,
        ""poem.id"": 3702,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:39:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sorrow Of Bud"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""'Why does there lie sorrow and gloomon thy face? ''Because I have to bloom'the bud says.Yet the bud blooms, then begins to die, like dewdrops falling down on tombssays, 'Goodbye.'"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3703"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3703,
        ""poem.id"": 3703,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:39:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""'The Egalitarian' By Kazi Nazrul Islam"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/26/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""I sing the song of equality, in which all obstacles and distance are dissolved, in which the Hindus, the Buddhists, the Muslims and the Christians have got united.I sing the song of equality! Who are you? A Persian? A Jain? A Jew? A Santhal, a Bhil, a Garo? A Confucian? A follower of Charbak? Continue. Tell more.O friend, whoever you are, whatever books and scriptures you carry into stomach, on back, on shoulder and into brain, the Quran, the Puranas, the Vedas, the Bible, the Tripitaka—the Zend-Avestha, the Granth Sahib—read as much as you desire.But why do you waste your labour? Why are you throwing spears into your brain? Why do you haggle in a shop when fresh flowers bloom at your roadside? The wisdom of all scriptures and ages lie within you.O friend, open your heart, you will find all scriptures there.Within you lie all religions, all the prophets of all agesand your heart is the world-temple of everyone's gods.Why do you look for God in the skeletons of dead books? He smiles into the secret concealment of your immortal heart! O friend, I have not told a lie—It is the place where all crowns tumble and toss.This very heart is the Nilachal, Kashi, Mathura, Brindaban; It is Bodh-Gaya, Jerusalem, Medina and Kaaba.It is the mosque, it is the temple, it is the church; Sitting here, Jesus and Moses found the identity of truth.In this battlefield, the young flute player sang the Bhagavad Gita; In this pasture, the sheep-grazing prophets became friends to God.Sitting in the meditation-cave of this heart, Shakyamuni abandoned his kingdom hearing the call of men's great sufferings.In this cave, the Prince of Arabia used to hear the divine call; sitting here, he sang the Quran's equality-song.O brother, what I have heard is not a lie—there is no temple, no Kaaba greater than this heart.Translation: 1/3/2016 Sirajganj"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3704"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3704,
        ""poem.id"": 3704,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:39:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""'God' By Kazi Nazrul Islam"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/26/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""O brother, who are you scouring the sky and the earth for the Lord of the world? Who are you wandering through the wilderness and ascending the mountain-peaks? It's a pity, O hermit, O dervish, you are looking for the jewel of heart from country to countryholding it into your bosom! The whole creation stares at you while you are keeping your eyes shut; You look for God— actually you are looking for your ownself.O will-blind man! Open your eyes, look at your image in the mirror, you will see His shadow has fallen on your entire body.Don't shudder, don't get frightened of the scholars of scriptures, o hero—they are not surely God's private secretaries! He is revealed among all, He is in all.Seeing myself, I can recognize my unseen creator! The merchants deal in jewels on the sea-shore—Never ask them about the jewel-mine.They are merely the traders of jewelsbut they pretend they know the jewel-mine! They have not dived into the unfathomable depthof the jewel-bearing sea.O friend, instead of delving into scriptures, dive into the water of Truth-sea.Translation: 1/3/2016 Sirajganj"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3705"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3705,
        ""poem.id"": 3705,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:39:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""'Man' By Kazi Nazrul Islam"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/26/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""I sing the song of equality—There's nothing greater than man, nothing more majestic than man.There's no difference of country, age and person; There's no partition in religion and caste; Man is man's kinsman throughout all ages in all countries, in every house.‘O worshipper, open the door! The god of hunger is at your doorstepand it's the time to worship! 'Awakened by such a dream, the agitated priest opened the door of temple.Surely he might be a king today with the boon of god, he thought.A wayfarer with shabby dress whose body is thinand hungry voice is feeble, said, ‘Open the door, o Father; I have been hungry for seven days.'Suddenly the temple got closed; the hungry man went back.It was dark night; the gem of his hunger burnt on his way.The hungry man said loudly, ‘O god! That temple belongs to the priest, not to you.'Yesterday there was sweetmeet at mosque; immense meat and bread remained uneaten; That's why, the mollah is overjoyed.At that moment, a traveller came wearing shabby dressand said, ‘O Father, I have been unfed for seven days.'Getting annoyed, the mollah said, ‘What a botheration! You are hungry—then die going to the ground for dumping dead cows! O chap, do you say your prayers? 'The hungry traveller said, `No, Father! 'The mollah shouted, ‘Then o rascal, get out! 'Carrying meat and bread, he locked the door of mosque.The hungry traveller went backand said walking, ‘O God! I have lived for eighty yearsand never called upon you. Yet you have neverdeprived me of my food. Now in your mosque and templethere's no right of man. Mollah and priest have locked all their doors.'Where are you, O Genghis, Mahmud of Ghazni and Kala Pahar? Break down all the locked doors of the house of worship! Who shuts the doors of the house of God? Who puts locks on them? All its doors will remain unlocked—strike themwith hammers and crowbars.O the House of God, the hypocrites sing of the victory of their self-interestclimbing over your minaret! Having hated human beings, who are they kissing the Quran, the Vedas, the Bible? Fie! What a shame! Snatch away those scriptures by force from their mouths.The hypocrites are worshipping books by killing thosewho have, in fact, brought these books on earth! O the ignorant, listen: it is man who has brought the books; books have not brought any man.Adam, David, Jesus, Moses, Abraham, Mohammad, Krishna, Buddha, Nanak, Kabir—all are the treasures of the world; they are ours forefathers; their blood, more or less, runs through our veins.We're their children, kinsmen—we're of the same body; who knows when some of us may become like them! Don't laugh, my friend! the self within me is fathomless and infinite; Do I know or does any body know who the great exists in me? Perhaps Kakli is emerging in me, Mahdi and Jesus in you; Who knows what is one's limit or origin? Who can find one's trace? Whom do you hate, O brother, whom do you kick? Perhaps God resides day and nightwithin his heart! Or prhaps he is nothing—not great, not of high esteem; He is just covered with filth, badly woundedand burning in the flame of sorrow; Yet all the holy books and houses of worship of the worldare not as holly as that tiny body of him! Perhaps in his semen, in his cottagesomeone will be born unmatched in the history of the world.Perhaps he who will deliver such a speech the world has not yet heard and whose great power the world has not yet witnessed is coming in his house! Who is he? A Chandal? Why do you startle? He is no despicable being.He may be Harishchandra or Shiva of crematorium.Today Chandal but tomorrow he may be a great yogi-emperor; Tomorrow you will come to him with offerings and sing of his eulogy.Whom do you neglect as a shepherd? That negligenceplays on someone's flute.Perhaps Gopal of Brojo has come in a shepherd's disguise.You hate a man for being a peasant! Observe whether father Balarama has come in a peasant's disguise.All the prophets were the shepherds of lambs; they ploughed too, and those very men carried the eternal messages which exist till now and will exist for ever.Every day begging men and women turn away from each door; Perhaps Bholanath and Girijaya came among them—we could not recognize.You were in fear you would lose your wealth if you gave alms; That's why, you made your doorman beat the beggar and thus you chased away a god.That beating are recorded and who knows whether you are forgiven by the humiliated goddess! O friend, your bosom is full of greed, your two eyes are full of self-interest; otherwise you would see the god has become a coolie to serve you.O beast, will you plunder the god within a man's heartand the nectar churned out of his pain to appease your hunger? Your Mandodari the food of your hunger knows wellin which location of your palace lies your death-arrow.O beast, through the ages, your desire-queenhas dragged you into your death-holes.Translation: 3/3/2016 Sirajganj"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3706"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3706,
        ""poem.id"": 3706,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:39:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""'The Golden Kabin' (Sonnets) By Al Mahmud"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/27/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""The Golden Kabin No gold coin I have; Don't demand any dower, O my Doe; If you take, I can give my dowerless two hands.I haven't stored any self-selling gold, for the cunning frown wounds and hurts me all around everywhere.If you love me, in return I'll give my kissIt's my only business, for I haven't learnt how to deceive a lady.If you give your body, you'll get mine, too. O my Love, no capital but body I have, by which I can purchase ornaments for you.If you get nude, you'll find me simple; Even no olive-leaves will remain there, which may envelop my virility; If you start tasting, please give me a share of those fruits, too; In consciousness and unconsciousness we'll remain ever-known to each other.Although all my distressed veins and arteries wounded severely, I ain't defeated, O Love, poets don't know how to give in.2.Supporting my hands, O my venomous snake, ascend on my Pati1; Fold up your hood now, don't compose any black verse within my heart.Whatever darkness you can pour out by each of your snaps, every moment I become bluer than that darkness in fear of your bite.In which tricks and artifices have you worn the Nilambor2 sari? Flowing in drops, the color of night becomes more black.I think I can jump into that deep darknessif you pick up my death spreading out the edge of your sari.Would you permit me to write down my name without any title and shine, with the scratch of slow trembling nails on your chest? If you get shy, I'll wipe off the first letter, the blood-alphabet, not Aryan and ancient, with my untiring wet kisses.O Kalabati3 mine, make the sport of Bangali race wavy, the sport which Batsayan did not know and knew no girls of the Aryan.3.Turning round the curve of your neck, come near, O my wild duck; Uncovering your feathers, give me the ease of your warm body.I pass my days bowing down to Nature. Today the name of this man, skillful in words, will open the door of ecstasy.The arrow of Kakka's4 words, the command of sylvan soul, summons you eighteen times, hear attentively, O my eighteenth.Untie your closed serpent-like plait with your own fingers then ascend on dark-blue bed-sheet and get seated nude with me to quench our two thirsts.Let's go to an uncultivated valley having the sound of two violent waters with us, like that of a hungry river.Untie all the folds of your body like the soil of a bar; May the flesh of Ugol5 fish be happy in your mud; Moistening all the artistry of pleasure with the lake dye of lips, let us sink fast, O Love, into the revolving riddle of blood.4.If you want to visit my shrine, walk slowly, O my sweet Love.The blood of Mukundaram6 is mixed with this soil. Catching the torn palm-leaves, let us recite his verse.We don't know how many drops of tear there are on this torn palm-leaves.Would you come, O wild lass, being the desire of a poet? Then be aware that python is my totem in poverty.Like a fresh murder, I'll draw the vaccine of cinnabarand the love of a poor man on your red forehead.How can I win you, my Love, by which Mantra of what clan, can I take you at my home? I've my belief in Kapila7 only. Has Love ever taken refuge in religion orin any Sanghha8? Remember, only the grass of grave remains after all deaths.As long as you've the form of copper-colored body, you've value; If you lose it ever, nothing exists more; then it is history which bursts alone into laughter5.Have the fruits of cotton-plant exploded beside my home? Wear the garland of Gunja9, O girl, the fowler of my heart; Where have you kept the earthen bottle of Mahua10? Please carry it here in this moonbeam and let us rinse it down together with pleasure.Who says that I won't recognize you in the aboriginal dress of a fowler? Does a hunter ever mistake to recognize the clan of birds? In whatever Mantras Khona11is opened to unravel the mystery of Nature, remember, that same magic lies within the souls of poets.I've learnt from the book of Nature from my childhood thatall-piercing root of Green pierces even love; No everlastingsociety has ever been built anywhere; The fingers of all artistsof Egypt, Greece and Serasine have failed to do that.By the strike of Age's plane, all the arts tremble in fear; O Girl, the lips of a poet are not more painful than that.6.I've no faith in Pisces, Girl; I'm a man of Kauma societywho only create the sound of simple equality in your town.I've never composed a single verse after the name of any chieftain; I'm the poet on whose baldhead always hangs the law of oppressor.Long long ago my ancestors were slaves of some emperor; They used to compose the pound of sentences selling their conscience; That scandal, yet now, hisses in the wind of Bengal; Alaul12, the rider of the horse of Rosang, hides his face in shame. Isn't it better to be a poor minstrel, who is looking for the neighbour living in Arshi nagar13? Braid my hair today making diadem over my head; Become my Aktara14, O Love, I would be your young Lalon15.All the mistakes I've made due to the undesired sentiment of devotion, Today I'll rectify them all and create the warbling of new words.7.Having lost your gold ear-ring are you crying, my Love? The boughs of Anaj16 bend down outside in terrible storm; Is it possible to get back the Jeor17 from the hands of a thief? Perhaps the coquette of the thief has worn that ring now.All the elegant conscience of this country has been eaten into by worms; Selling the brain, the learned society is happy very much; How long can the truth be concealed under the lid of civilitywhen the art of a rebellious poem cries loudly within the soul? Don't break your bracelet; yet there are some lath of sandalwoodat my home, by which I'll fill up the holes of your ears.In the discourse of Dhrupada18, suddenly I have sung the Kheur19; Pardon me, O virgin, forgive the songs of this upset cuckoo.The gold cat will drink all the milk of your bowlhow long would youtolerate, O unsteady girl, pretending that you've noticed nothing at all? 8The age of Monosa20 has touched me in my profound sleep.A serpent has entered, O Chaste, into the bridal chamber of iron; Will we notice ever a new morning after this very nightand the sun, the emperor of warmth, which rises everyday? My whole body, getting blue by the rage of venom, trembles in fear; O my Behula21, lift me up now over your body; Embrace me, O my chaste Love, binding me by your two hands; Today the son of Ebb, who always blasphemesgods and goddesses, will lie down on your immersion.If my life comes to an end for the fraud venom of age, start bewailing with your disheveled hair.Hearing your cry, the life-bird will return breaking the cage of death.Viewing the audacity of life, may the life-eater Zam22 bow down its head.Rending your dress, start dancing, O Love, beside my death; May the chubby coin of you reverse the system of our living.9.Through the current of ancestry, O my proud Love, you've got this verdantsplendor in your body; Remember, those ancestors had once builtthe city of Pundra. They all have been the food of soil. But I didn't knowthe roots of Banyan trees always drink the blood of a black nation.My dwelling is also in the country of red-colored soil.My forefathers were pride of Pattikera23 city.The waves of monstrous bush have devoured all.The praise of Amitava Gautama collides now with the screech of crickets.In the Past, of whose fear, the Vedic fire of dividing men into classesdared not advance one inch crossing the Karatoa24; Have the foundations of their dwellings been eaten into by the worms of hypocrisy? The sound of elegant equality frequently goes futile.The Borgis25 are looting our paddy, the whole country is being filled with blood and death; O my dark-complexioned Love, the danger of crops is here more serious than your beauty.10. The savage have raised their hands by the Mantra of laborer-equality; Behold, O Love, peace has set in the country of Hiensung; Let us stick the badge of a hero on the dresses of them who carry the invitation of equality for the working class people in Asia.May the equal distribution of crops be our only religion; Start singing the song of extirpation of class, motivated by the Mantraof utmost relief. Pronounce such a speech of love with courageso that no class-distinction can ever enter into the folk-religion.Then if you want to refer to the context of lust, come behindthe concealment of corn-field and uncover the yellow of your youth; From the side of crops how much love I can give, I'll give you more than that, the cordial affection of coitus.I've caught your silk-sari with much bashful courage; O my sweet-voiced Love, don't delay, acknowledge me your hero.11.I've heard from my boyhood, O Girl, Bangladesh is the lying-in-room for wise men; All our past wisdom-trees were born here during the incessant rain; See now into that room of knowledge, there hang only some depressed bats.O my amiable Love, how difficult it has been today to have faith in the Past! How would I accept it's the birthplace of Srigyan26 and Shilbhadra27 had inhaled the first air from here? If we exclude its part, it loses its everything mentionable; only a few sinanthropous cough in our schools.Within the last exaltation of this stone-age, where would you flee, O Girl upset, in which bush would you hide yourself? In your body the color of an independent deer remains, too.When the blades of stones are thrown from behind the curtain, the existentialist-giraffes have lengthened their individual necks into our art-centre and all our workmanship.12.Suddenly hearing the sound of high tide at midnight from the village adjacent to the river, a farmer gropes for his beloved wife whether she is beside him or notwho opens the door of wealth and corn; Likewise, grasp my hand, O Love, at this blind night, full of fear.If the smell of crops remains in your body, the enemy of food may bring the ferocious attack of greed; we'll return that panic created by food-greedy Rahu28.As a peasant of upland, who eats his food standing in water, establishes his utmost right on the newly risen bar, that way I've hoisted the flag of justice over your head; The flag of mine, bright colored, is firm both in kindness and right.Behold, the northeast is trembling in fear by the ear-splitting thunder; Swearing by the name of storm, tell me, O Girl, whom are you of? 13.Open your two eyes, O my beautiful Love, reddened by the odor of Loban29, the two designed borders of your sari tremble by my breath; Had you been the sylvan pigeon bent down to shyness? You're trembling as if you were the root of a cane fallen in storm.Your chignon has been unloosed in wind, O my smiling girl; look at me, crossing your Tikli30, my heart palpitates in fear. All the villagers waitingfor you, having paddy in their auspicious winnowing platters; the Khai31 of Binni32are spread on the yard; 33 Attar and Aguru34 on your bed.Having accepted this lucky Dhan-durba35 with reverence, loosening your Purdah36, O my noble Love, put up again your hair into a bun.Your sisters-in-law of the same age have caught the threshold, coming to you; Be simple like them and listen to the first Sabak37 of your family.All the women from my mother's side have gathered to welcome you as a bridegroom; O Girl, say spontaneously like the waves of a river'Kobul! Kobul! '14.For Rain's sake, O Bibi, for sesame-colored paddy's sake, For the sake of fish and meat and for the sacred milch animals'; For plough, yoke and scythe's sake, for the sake of windy sail, Believe, no poet neglects the religion of heart.If I ever profane my tongue breaking my promise, may you turn into the blade of lightning; and rending my heart, may your divorce fall down upon my head.Then, O my Love, give me no piece of fish for my health.Which way the innocent waves break downon the body of a water-bird floating in the night's river, likewise I'll incessantly pour out all my kisses on your body setting you free from the chain of shyness.If it happens otherwise, O Banu,38 for the mother tongue's and the love-poetry's sake, may your curse fall down upon my head like a thunderbolt. 1. A kind of Mat.2. Like the color of blue sky.3. Well-versed classical female musician.4. A small reptile. It is believed that it calls according to its age. That means, if it is eight years old, it will make eight sounds.5. A kind of fish.6. A medieval Bengali poet.7. Kamdhenu (the fabulous cow that grants all wishes) 8. A group or community.9. Bunch or cluster of flowers.10. A flower-tree.11. Astrological predictions.12. A great Bengali poet.13. A mystical city mentioned in the songs of Lalon Shah.14. A musical instrument used by Baul singers.15. A great Bengali composer, singer and spiritual leader. Rabindranath was influenced by his songs.16. A kind of vegetable.17. A kind of ornament.18. Classic.19. Scurrilous poem.20. The Goddess of snake.21. Beloved of Lakhinder whom the snake bit at the bridal chamber.22. Yama who is responsible for death.23. An ancient Bengali city.24. A river in Bangladesh.25. Robbers.26. Atish Dipanker, an Bengali Buddhist who visited Tibet getting an invitation from the king of Tibet.27. The Chancellor of Nalanda University in ancient India, a Buddhist scholar.28. A demon said to be the cause of eclipses.29. Benzene.30. One kind of ornament used on the forehead of a woman.31. Food made of rice frying on the oven.32. A kind of paddy.33. A kind of perfume.34. A kind of fragrant wood.35. A kind of grass.36. Borkha.37. Lesson.38. Virgin."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3707"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3707,
        ""poem.id"": 3707,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:39:34"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My Haiku: 2"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/17/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""1.it's the month of rain-eyes are wet like olive-leaves; heart is sunk in pain.2.sky is full of mirth; autumn has spread her rich cropson the lap of earth.3.morning smiles in trees-spring has stirred flowers and birds; sweet is southern breeze.4.snow with fog and cold-lambs are on the mountain-tops, trembling young and old.5.wind bites in thick fog; winter has spread her sharp wingseverywhere on earth."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3708"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3708,
        ""poem.id"": 3708,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:39:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""مجيبنما"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/12/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""مجيبنما ملحمة عن شيخ مجيباب الامة بقلم: سيد ابوبكر ترجمة: اسماء الزنجليالجزء الأول: كان بطلا قويا كالرعد ذو صوت كزئير الأسوديقف في أرض ساحة دكا في مارس،عام ألف و تسع مئة وواحد و سبعون مخاطبا شعبه البنغالي: ' إن شعب البنغال يريد أن يصبح حرا؛إن شعب البنغال يريد أن يعيش ؛إن شعب البنغال يريد حقوقههو، كالحكيم بروميثوس ، نما في عينيه حلم سرقة النار من النعيمليدفئ قلوب البنغاليين، حاملا في صدره ألما عميقا لشعبه المضطهد في وطنهألما اندفع هائجا كفيضانِ آلاف الأنهار.كان بطلا في عز الشباب قوي البنية ذو جسد توحي صلابته إلى الأشجارفي قامتها و أوراقها الخضراء اللامعة،يزأر كنمر ملكيّ بنغالي في ساحة دكا ، مستحما بشمسها الحارقة و ضوئها الفضيقائلا: ' إن نضالنا هو نضال للحرية، و كفاح من أجل الاستقلال 'في صوته المليء بالحماس و الشجاعة رأى البنغال جيلا يافعاأسدا من الأسود الأبطال كالإمام الحاجي شريعة الله، القائد المسلم عيسى خانمنصور الملك سراج الدولة،بل بطلا خارقا يحوّل الشمس الحارقة إلى ظلال، سخّرها لهم من أشجار الأثْأب الهندية؛و طائرا يحلق ملامسا السماء الزرقاء، كفارس من فرسان نازغول.كان بطلا كالأساطير ثابت كالجبل في حلبة دكا استحوذ بصراخه؛على هزيم الرعد النائم لينطق باسم الحريةأبصر الحشد في جبهته المنيرة كالنجوم انتماءً روحيا لسلالة أبو القاسم فضل الله؛عبد الحميد بهاشاني و حسين شهيد سهرودي ؛وناطقا باسم شهداء ألف وتسع مائة وواحد و خمسون.أنا واحد من أبناءه مغموم من الحزن آخر شعراء العصر ولدت برامفودرابورجهة كيشابور بمنطقة جيسورهنا أقف بقلب مكسور كانكسار مرآة حطمها الحزن لآلاف القطع؛أحمل رغبة في غناء هذه القصيدة. سأغنى لانتصاره ،لمن يستيقظ بلدي كل يوم على اسمه، لمن بندائه أيقظ بلاد البنغالفي يوم من الأيام من سباتها العميق.سأغنى أغنية الحرية التي ما فتئت شفتا طائر العقعق المكسور الجناحتردّّدهالتزهر على المدى الطويل وردة من سلالة العجائب، في حديقة الأرض؛اسمها بنغلادش، الوطن الأكثر جمالا.وطني الذي كُتبت أساطيره على صفحات التاريخ بحروف من ذهب.يا اللهأعلم أن أوراق الأشجار لا تهتز إلا بإذنك، و الشمس تلقي بضوئها في كل الزوايابأمر منكو الأزهار تنشر عبيرها ، و الطيور تغني في الغابات عطفا منك.القمر المضيء؛ و الأنهار الهائجة؛ جبال الهيمالايا الشامخة ؛المحيطات الغنية بالمياه؛ السماء الزرقاء الواسعة؛ الأشجار الخضراء؛و التربة الخصبة، كلها نعم من جودك ورحمتك. بقدرتك خلقت الورود جميلة ؛و الفواكه شهية، من يقدر الحركة خطوة في أرضك دون علمك؟إن شئت حميت عبدا من صفحات الدهر فجعلته خالدا؛ وإن شئت أمت عبادك أجمعينكأحرف رسمت على سطح البحرإن رضيت عن عبد فقير من عبادك جعلته برحمتك ملكا؛ و إن غضبت على عبد غنيجعلته مذلولا، متسولا يدق الأبوابلك تغرب الشمس خاضعة خوفا منك ، و يختبئ القمر برأس منحنٍ؛و عينان تدمع لجلالتك.يا الله ، لك سجدت خاشعا ، كشجرة تنبول كسرتها الرياحإذا أنرت الطريق استنرت بنورك، و بذاك النور ستبهر قصيدتي أعين العالمكضوء القمر في الخريفإذا رزقتني القدرة ، ستحذو قصيدتي الملحمية حذو ميلتون؛دانتي و هومر لتسير عبر أحضان الوجود.و إن رضيت عني، أنا أيضا معانقا يد أبي ، الشاعر الملحمي مدهوسودان،سأعبر محيط الملحمة الغير السالك.عزمت هذا الصباح ، و أنت يا مجيد أعلم بعزيمتي ،و بلا توفيق منكلا أمل لي في النجاحسأغنى قصيدته القصصية ، الابن الأعظم لأمة البنغال العظيمة لآلاف السنينسأغنى لمن بقوله الشهم أشرقت شمس الاستقلال خلسة، دون انتظارفي بلاسي عام ألف وتسع مائة وسبعة وخمسون.لمن بإشارة منه ، تحررت قيود آلاف السنين من العبوديةلترقص الأمة جمعاء على ألحان البهجة و الفرح.سأغنى قصيدته القصصية كما ملأ فالميكي هواء الأرض بأنغام راماسألحن صوتي، وأدفأ روحي بأشعة الشمس اللامعة، التي بها يشرق الصباحفي الكون مخترقةً ظلام الليللتتدفق بهيام الأشعار المجنونة بحب الوطن في عيناي.من في الكون له أم غير حنون، الأمهات مقدسات كالنعيم جميلات؛معزات لأطفالهن، كحب الوطن لأبنائهمن لا يحس بالراحة عند لمس تراب وطنه، من لا تدمع عيناهلبلده في وقت المحنكذلك الراعي النشيط يرعى الدواب في البر القاحل؛ مبتهجالجمال وطنهالفلاح الجائع بجسده النحيل ، يحرث أسفل التل الصلب حرث 'جهوم' ؛محتفيا بنصر مسقط رأسهويلاه! من قاس القلب الذي لا تدمع عيناه في الغربة شوقا لوطنه؛من البربري الذي يأثم رفقة فاجرة ، منتهكا عفة وطنه ؟من جهة ، كان آخرَ سطوع لشمس البنغال ؛بهار؛أوريسانواب سراج الدولةو من جهة ، فخ التآمر لغايستي بيغوم ، مير جعفر ، جڭات سيث ، والمحتال روبرت كليفغمام الخطر انتشر في المكان، الجنة الرطبة، المثمرة و الخصبة كأرضالبنغالالذرة الوافرة الخضراء، أُسقطت في الخطر تكرارا، لجمالها و ثروتها،كما يطارد الغزال للحمه ، و الفتاة لجمالهافي الماضي، جاء فرسان مهورتا سيئي السمعة لينهبوا الممتلكاتإمبراطورية المغول أتوا؛اعتدى مان سينغ و رجاله على حقول الأرز ، لكن مالكها عيسى خانقاتل بقوة محطّما سيف مان سينغآجلا، جاء أشرار شرسون ليفترسوا الشعب الراقد في سلام،و يمزقوا خريطة البنغال؛جيش مسلح اجتمع في بلاسي ، نُفخ صفير الحرب بقوة وسط الضجيجوقف الوطنيون المضحون في جانب، و الوحوش الطماعة؛ الأجانب الأنانيون في جانب،بينهما قلة من المحليين الجشعين القذرين.يا بنغال ، بلدي الحبيب ؛ وطني المقدس.يا للبؤس الذي أصاب أرضكمرارامتى كنت حرا بلا أعداء ؟ متى لم تلدغ الأفعى السامة بالشؤم ، ابنك لوخينضارقل لي بأي لعنة أصبحت لأحزان الأرض نجلا؟يا بنغلادش، أبناؤكِ الذين كانوا مباركين بالأرزّ والحليب، أصبحوا مجددا عبيداسخريةً من القدرشمس الاستقلال انغمست في بحر الزمن بعمق مئتي عام، سحاب البنغال الأبيضإسودّ خجلا من دماء سراج الحمراءامتدّت أشعة الشمس بزي الحداد إلى القبور، سرب من طيور البومقطط سوداء جلست في الظلام الحالك المكثف؛تنتحب مواءًأيها البنغال ،بلدي الحبيب ، ووطني المقدس. من يرضى العيش في قفص حديديمغلق ؟ من لا يرغب في حياة حرة؟طيور الغابة جميعها تنشر أنغام السلم، تخفي كنز الحرية في أرواحهاتتنقل الأسماك بحرية في الماء من موطن لآخرالنمل الصغير، أحقر الكائنات، يقود حياة حرة مبقيا قوامه مرفوعا،الغزال الهادئ أيضا، يسكن الغاب مع النمور، يجري فرحا طليقاكشعاع الشمسفقط شعب البنغال المسالم يجر عربة العبودية كالثور في حقل الحياة،سخرية من القدربالرغم ، تسلل لأعينه ضوء غروب الشمس الخفيف للاستقلال الضائع ،ليتراقص ألم فقدان الحرية في صدره ، كوجع فقدان أرفيوس لمحبوبتهأوريديسالألم العسير الذي تحول إلى ضباب يحيط البلد، انهار على الأرض بصوتيشبه نفخ بوق اسرافيلهناك انفجرت عاصفة عنيفة مدمرة ، ليتطاير عرش مملكة بريطانيا كأوراق الشجر اليابسمعلنا عن بنغال حرو تنطلق بانشراح أغصان حياة شعب البنغال بأوراقها اليافعة ، متقلبة في رياح الحرية.لكن،أسفاه! من كان يدري أن من حسبناهم إخوانا كانوا أعداءً و أشرارا قتلة، أثقلوا صدر البنغالبالموت و السرقة، القمع و العنفخرج الحشد غاضبا إلى الطرقات للاحتجاج، أي تنين هذا الذي جاء للبلاد! التهم بدايةً الاقتصاد ثم الثروة ،و ربما انقض على أرواح البنغاليين ، و شرف النساء ليرضي جوعهألا محدودأراد طعن قلوب الرجال ليغتال أحلامهم، طموحاتهم، آمالهم، عواطفهمو حتى أوهامهم،أن يفترس لغتهم ليدمر وطنه روحا و جسد، بأظافره السامة أصبحت طرقات دكاملوثة بدماء الشبان البنغاليين البريئين، المحبين لأمهاتهم، لغتهم و وطنهم الأم.في ذاك اليوم الغائم، انتظرت الأمة جمعاء بأعين متحمسة؛ كعابري محيط هائج يحدقونفي المركبي بعجز، يصرخون عاليا اسم اللهبل كقارب سقط في فخ النهر الثائر بأمواجه العاصفة، يهتز جيئة و ذهابا، و المسافرونيصيحون طالبين النجدة ، لأن مدير القارب عدوأخيرا ، جاء منقد الأمة التائهة ، يزأر كالأسد ليهتز البلد كالزلزال ، و ترتعشأرواح الأعداء الفاسدة خوفا ، كارتعاش أوراق شجرالأثأبجاء كما تحضر الشمس شرق السماء مخترقة الليل، و كما تعود الكهرباء المنيرةفي ليالي الصيف الحار بعد انتظار لا يطاقجاء كمطر خفيف، يهطل بردا و سلاما على القلب الممزق للأرض المحترقةفي شهر شويتراجميع البنغال من تكنوف إلى تيتوليا ، و من ساحل نهر كابوتاكخا لساحل سورما ؛بورنوڦا ؛ مغنا ؛ جيمونا جميعا رحبوا به في فرح عارمملئوا الهواء بالتهليل و الشعارات النارية المتناثرة ، حنوا رؤوسهم لهألبسوا عنقه إكليل ورد ، كتبوا على جبهته العريضة بحب كبير الإسم الذهبي' البانجو باندو' ، صديق البنغال.[تتويج الفصل: الجزء الأول]"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3709"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3709,
        ""poem.id"": 3709,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:39:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Mujibnama: Book 2"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/27/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""The MujibnamaAn Epic on Sheikh Mujib, the Father of Nationby Sayeed AbubakarTranslation in English: Sayeed AbubakarBook 2Having a bright smile on face, he returned With a heart swollen with self-confidenceTo his home named ‘Number Thirty Two'. His Daughter, as if a golden lotus ofHeaven bloomed just, found out her palace ofAffection on his broad bosom. Saying‘Hasu', he fondled her keeping his handWet with tenderness on her forehead. HeSighed and started speaking: \"O my daughter, I know your ever busy father roamsHere and there leaving you at home or hePasses his time into the darkest cell Of prison; you all look expectantlyFor his return which way the swallowsLook expectantly for rain-water. I Return to you just to flee away fromYou again. I remain indifferent toWhat you eat, what you wear and how you passYour days and nights. Really, to be aDaughter of a leader is a matterOf sorrow, o my babe, I know, I feel.\"His daughter replied in sweet voice: \"You are the friend to Bengal; the peopleOf Bengal love you more than their lives; ourHappiness lies in it. Don't get worriedThinking for us.\" Fazilatunnesa, The mother to Bengal, came with slow stepsTowards them. She entered into the talkBetween father and daughter: \"We have setYou free like a bird of forests. That's why, You have become Bangabandhu now inBengal. Do not forget it ever.\" InReply, said Bangabandhu: \"Yes, you haveSet me free; that's why, I wander on theStreets of Bengal to find out the lootedLiberty of the people of Bengal.\"\"Talk to mom, Dad. I will just go and comeBack with a glass of milk for you.\" SayingIt, his Sun like daughter ran away, asIf a storm. The leader of seven crore Bengalis stared at that storm with pleasantEyes for a moment and then turned his eyesTo his better half: \"Listen, O Hasu's Mother, they won't be able to subdueUs any more. The people of BengalHave risen up. All have realized inThe long run, they are not our brothers; theyAre our enemies, our killers. How longWe will tolerate their torture! BleedingSouls of the brilliant teacher martyr Shamsuzzoha and Sergeant JahurulHaq don't let me sleep; how compassionatelyThey stare at my face and calling me, say, ‘O Mujib, don't let this blood go in vain.\"I cannot let the blood of martyrs goIn vain at all in this Bengal. Listen, We will defeat them in the battle of Imminent election of East Pakistan.This time my Bengalis will not mistake.\"Mrs. Mujib, the Mother to Bengal, Sighed, saying, \"May God accept it. But thereIn a gathering of his supportersMaolana Bhashani declared that he Won't fight in the field of election; hisFirst demand is food, then election. ICan't realize politics any way. It's difficult to realize when who Throws stone at which beehive.\" \"Don't get worried, Renu. Time will say who is wrong and who Is right. They wanted to entrap me byFiling a false case named ‘Agartala Conspiracy' against me. Questions wereRaised against my ‘Six Points'. And I was calledTraitor. Tell me, Renu, who has ever loved this Bengal more than me, more thanSheikh Mujib? I recognize every inch Of Bengal; almost all the faces of Bengal's men and women are known to me; Mujib can't treason against his soil andPeople. If God smiles on us, I will makeThis country golden Bengal you will see.\"\"I have desired it throughout my whole life.Never I wished that your milk-white image Get stained with a little black spot. You areThe leader of seven crore Bengalis, So dear to them; this love can be purchasedOn earth by no money or wealth. I wish This identity of you lasted inBengal for ever. For Agartala Conspiracy Case, that time you were in Prison. Thirty five persons were accused. Trial was going on. Going to visit You at prison, I came to know that theGovernment of Pakistan wanted to Parole you in order to have you in An urgent conference. I realizedThat it was another conspiracy; They wanted to destroy perpetuallyYour strong personality and your brightPolitical existence. I got frightened; It seemed to me that you would slip this timeOn the mud of conspiracy. In a Frenzy of despair, I shouted, ‘Beware! Don't take parole. If they want to set you Free, unconditonally they have to Set you free then. Captive Mujib will goOn a conference- I won't tolerateIt. If something happens like that, then keepIn mind, while coming back home, you will find Your Renu no more.' Saying it, like a Lass I started crying aloud. You know, I have been your life-partner since my teen Age, never did I revolt against youThis way. Just after then, Sergeant JahurulHaq was murdered. The whole country roared in Anger. ‘Nineteen Sixty Nine Uprising' Took place. On twenty second FebruaryYou got released from prison. The BengalisGave you a warm reception on twentyThird February at Racecourse Ground andYou returned home like a hero having The title ‘Bangabandhu'.\" Saying it, She wiped her eyes, as if wet with dawn's dew.Bangabandhu, the leader of poverty-Stricken people, said in a choked voice: \"Truly, you saved me that day from a greatDanger awaiting me. If you did not Press me hard that way, something might happenTerrible. My friends often mock at my Madness for my wife. If they knew the cause! \" Having the glass of milk at her hand, hisDaughter, as dear as his eye-ball, cameWith a slow step. Mrs. Mujib, flooded With passion, somewhat embarrassed for the Sudden arrival of their daughter, said In a cramped voice: \"I have cooking. Let me Go. You talk father and daughter.\" When sheLeft the room hurriedly for the kitchen, They two saw a light of serenitySpread over her face. Both the father and The daughter stared with a steadfast look onHer going, as if they were watching a Spring-wind going back giving them a softTouch of peace providing a kindOf sweet coolness within their bodies and Souls. Absent-minded Mujib, who is theGreatest man of Bengal, got back his senseBy the call of his daughter, \"Milk, Dad.\" He sat down on the sofa. Then he took The glass of milk like a gentle boy from The hand of his motherly daughter and Started sipping, as if he were drinking The sweet water of heaven's brook. DrinkingThe milk to the lees, he stared with a smileAt his daughter; a brightened line of aGreen forest spread over his face: \"How isMy cow, Hasu? How selfishly I drinkHer milk! I don't get a chance to meet her.\"\"She is quite well, Dad. When we go to her, She stares at us like a dumb and look to And fro for someone. She has, perhaps, comeTo know by this time that you are veryBusy with country, party and politics. That's why, she keeps quiet every moment.\"The blue of the great leader's two eyes get Moist with tears. The thunder of Summer-stormIs in his voice but, what a billowyUnfathomable Bay of Bengal flowsWithin his heart! —\"O my God! I had justForgotten her. When I get ready forOutgoing in the morning, remind me, I will meet her first, then I will leave home.All the birds of this Bengal, all the trees, Animals, flowers, fruits, rivers, canals, Bogs, fields and the desolate extensivePlains—they all know me. Farmers, labourers, Coolies, fishermen, boatmen, barbers and All the veiled women of villages, allThe shopkeepers of village-markets, theTeachers of schools, students, youths, mobs—they allForget their sorrows seeing your father.Seeing your father for once, they all seeThe whole country in front of their eyes, the Country on whose chest has sat firmly the Autocratic martial beasts of Pakistan, Who sitting there are sucking like leechesThe life-blood of seven crore Bengalis.\"No sooner had he completed his speechThan his second daughter Sheikh RehanaAlong with Sheikh Russel, his youngest son, Came running with laughter and making fun.Instantly, a delight-fair was set upSurrounding their dear father. Leader wasHe of seven crore people, a strange fire-showering speaker, a magician of Musical words who robbed the hearts of menAnd women; the greatest Bengali was He in thousand years; but now he becameSuddenly a loving father among His dearest son and daughters. His eldestDaughter, as if she were his far-seeingMother Hasina, was watching that sceneWith the eyes of the goddess of earth. WithThe pea-cock eyes, she was watching the great Leader's sweet game with his daughter and sonAnd was saying in her own mind: ‘What aLoving world of illusion it is and How beautiful Number Thirty Two house is! '[House Number Thirty Two Episode: Book 2]"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3710"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3710,
        ""poem.id"": 3710,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:39:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Poem's Socrates"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/19/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""I have walked enough having been a city-baul.Enough I have wandered on the pied myna's footin the pompous sun of electricity to look for art's food.In anger, grievance and pain, I have spitted muchon the face of capitalism and imperialism.Uttering the name of humanity, I have passed many black days on the high way wet with blood. Singing of paper-flowers and stone-paradise, the cuckoo's throat in the long runhas got tired.Now soil calls me. The coolness of intense green and the silence of unbounded blue call me. Two banks of the Kapatakkha river and the fig-treesstanding on those banks call me for ever.I will go back to the soil where my fore-fathersare taking eternal rest.I will go backto the shade of trees, the fields of grassand the maddening perfume of Shefali flowers.A magpie whistles in the darkness-wrapped morning airsitting on the bough of horseradish tree. Drinking its whistle like hemlock, I, the Socrates of poetry, will lie for ever on the lap of eternity."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3711"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3711,
        ""poem.id"": 3711,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:39:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Last Words On Earth"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/25/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""If I leave earth, I wish to leave saying itto the whole world: ‘I have no sorrow in mind.'‘No sorrow I have'—writing these words and wreathing them in mind, I wish to leave silentlyfeeling the warmth of happiness on my body.I have seen Rose; its thorn has not got shelterinto my mind. Being a Chital fish, I have swum in the unfathomable youth; age and decay have never been able to touch my soul. Winter has retreated; cuckoos have started singing the song of flowers throughout my existence.If I go back, I wish to go saying it: ‘True and beautiful is the muddy hut made with affectionon the desert of life. True and beautiful are Night's moonlight, Day's civilization, mother'shoney-call, child's face and beloved's sweet words.'"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3712"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3712,
        ""poem.id"": 3712,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:39:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""'Coolies And Day-Labourers' By Kazi Nazrul Islam"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/17/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Once I saw on the rail-way, - a lord pushed down a man just for being a coolie.My eyes were burst with tears; will the weak be beaten this way, throughout the world? The steam-vehicle was made with Dadhichi's bones; the lord got on that, the coolies were fallen underneath. Do you say you have paid wages? Shut up, great liars! Tell, by paying how many pennies to the coolies, how many crore you have earned! Motor-cars ply through high-ways, ships cruise over seasand steam-vehicles run on rail-ways; the whole countryis filled with machines; tell, whose contributions are all these? With whose blood, are your buildings painted red? Remove the glass from your eyes and read what is written on each brick. You may not know but each and every grain of dust knows the meaning of those roads, vessels, vehicles and pallaces.The good days are coming; day by day, the debt has increased enough, it is high time to pay.Those who broke the hills with hammers, crowbars and pick-axes, their bones are strewn on either side of those hill-cut roads; those who, in order to render your service, became labourers, porters and coolies; those who, in order to carry you, smeared their holy bodies with dust; they are only men, only gods they are, I sing their song; new revolution comes setting her foot on their afflicted bosoms! You will recline at ease on the third floorand we will stay underneath; still, we will call you god, those days are gone by! The helm of the world's vessel will remain at the hands of those whose bodies and minds are soaked with the affection of soil! I will pick up the dust of his walking on my head as a sacred offering who journeyed with others through the tiresome roads.Smeared with the blood of the pain-striken suffering of the world, today the new sun of new dawn is rising reddened above the horizon, Smash today all the rusty shutters of narrow congested hearts and take off the artificial garments covering colored skins.Unlock all the bars and let all the winds of sky, which have become coagulated blue, enter this bosom besotted with joy.Let all the skies break down upon our cottages; let the Sun, the Moon and stars fall down upon our heads.Rush, all people of all countries and of all times, to this confluence, and standing here, listen to the flute of harmony.If one is tormented here, that torment plays equally into all people's bosoms.Here, one's dishonour is shame to the whole mankind, humiliation to all people.Today is the day of upheaval of great Human-beings and of great pain; God smiles in heaven, Satan trembles underneath.Translation: 17.6.2017 Sirajganj"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3713"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3713,
        ""poem.id"": 3713,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:40:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""'Equality' By Kazi Nazrul Islam"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/23/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""I sing the song of equality—Here, fresh happiness blossoms in all hearts of men, fresh life on all faces.Comrade, nobody is king here, nobody subject, nobody poor, nobody wealthy; nobody eats broken bits of rice here, nobody milk-film-cream.Here, nobody bows down before thosewho ride horses or get on motor-cars; Seeing here the black men, hatred does not spring up in the whit men's breasts..It is the place of equality—here, the black and the white have no separate graveyards nor any sperate churches.Here is no fear from sentries or police-men.It is the heaven where there is no division; here leaving all quarrels aside, man have clasped their hands as brothers.Here is no division between religions, no noise for scriptures; Christian clergyman, Hindu priest, Muslim juristand Buddhist monk drink water, here, from the same container.This body, this mind is God's prayer-house here; here His throne of sorrow is amidst the miseries of men.He responds to each call, by whatever namewhoever appeals to Him, which way a childgets response from its mother.Here, nobody quarrels on trouser, pants or dhuti; here clothed in dusty costumeseveryone is happy.23.6.2017 Sirajganj"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3714"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3714,
        ""poem.id"": 3714,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:40:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""'Thieves And Robbers' By Kazi Nazrul Islam"",
        ""poem.date"": ""7/1/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Who calls you a robber, o friend? Who calls you a thief? All around the robers beat their drums and the thieves reign.Who is the lord of justice judging thieves and robbers? Ask him, who is not a robber today throughout the world? O Supreme Judge, hold high your mace of justice; the great are great today stealing the wealth of the weak.The greater the robbery, theft, cheating and exploitation, the higher the status in the United Nations now! The palaces of kings rise built with the congealed blood-bricks of their subjects.The docoit-richmen run their factories by destroying a million dwelling houses.Fraud machinemen, you have set up your machines to grind men; the hungry people go in but come out like pressed sugar-cane.The machinemen, squeezing a million people's humanity, fill up their cups with wine and their earthen jars with gold.The usurers grow fat-bellied on the food the distressed need; Destroying the dwelling-houses of the hungrymen, the landlords go riding horses.Merchants have set up the brothels of economy in the world, Sin, Satan and Cup-bearers sing there the victory of Kuvera.Losing bread, health, life, hope, language and allbankrupt man is leading to a terrible fall.There is no way of escape—all around the economy-fiend has dug trenches.The whole world is a prison where robbers are the guards; all thieves and robbers are cousins, all imposters are friends.Who calls you a robber, o friend? Who says you steal? You may have stolen money or household utensils, But you have not dug a dagger in some one's tender-heart. You may be thieves, all right, but not inhuman like them.Like Ratnakar, still you can become Valmiki when you meet a real man. 30.6.2017 Sirajganj"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3715"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3715,
        ""poem.id"": 3715,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:40:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""'The Rebel' By Kazi Nazrul Islam"",
        ""poem.date"": ""7/1/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Say, o Hero—Say, high I hold my head! Looking at my head, the Himalayasbow their peaks.Say, o Hero—Say, piercing through the great sky of the universe, reaching above the Moon, the Sun, planets and stars, breaking through the limits of earth and heavens, pushing through the Arash, the throne of God, I have risen as an eternal surprise of the Goddess of earth! On my forehead shines Shiva, the Destroyer, as some royal victory's bright emblem.Say, o Hero—I hold my head high ever! I am ever irrepressible, arrogant and merciless: I am the dancing Shiva of the great cataclysm, I am cyclone, I am destruction, I am great terror, the curse of earth, I am irresistible, I grind all to pieces! I am lawless and reckless. I trample down all restraints, all rules and disiplines! I care no law, I sink vessels laden to the brim, I am torpedo, I am the terrible floating mine! I am Durjati, I am the tempest of sudden summer with dishevelled hair! I am the rebel, I am the mutinous child of the Goddess of earth! Say, o Hero—Say, high I hold my head! I am storm, I am cyclone, I go on destroying whatever comes on my path. I am the dance-intoxicated rhythm, I dance at my own pleasure, I am the unfettered joy of life! I am Hambir, I am Chhayanat, I am Hindol, I am ever reckless, Going my way with quick gestures, suddenly I leap with wonder, I am Hindol, the quick lightning in the sky! O brother, I do whatever my mind wants, I embrace my enemies and wrestle with death, I am mad, I am tornado! I am plague, I am great fear of this earth; I am terror of the ruler, I am destruction, I am full of a warm restlessness for ever! Say, o Hero—ever high stands my head! I am ever reckless, ever irresistible, I am irrepressible, the cup of my life is always, yes always, full to the brim. I am the sacrificial fire, I am Yamadagni keeping the sacred fire ever alive, I am devotion, I am priest, I am fire. I am creation, I am destruction, I am habitation, I am the cremation ground, I am the termination, the end of night! I am the son of Indrani with the moon in my hand and the sun on my forehead. My one hand holds the curved bamboo flute and the other the trumpet of war! My throat is black from drinking poison churned up from the ocean of pain! I am Shiva, I catch the waters of Gangotri free from bondage! Say, o Hero—ever high stands my head! I am monk, I am the song-soldier, I am crown-prince, my royal garment is fade brownish red.I am bedouin, I am Ghengis, I salute none but myself. I am thunder, I am the sound of Om on Shiva's horn, I am the mighty roar of Israfil's trumpet, I am the tabour and the trident of Pinakpani, I am the staff of justice of the Great Just.I am the wheel and the great conch of Vishnu, I am the fearsome din of the primeval Om! I am a disciple of the mad sages Durvasa and Viswamitra, I am the forest fire, I shall burn the universe to ashes! I am open-hearted laughter and exaltation, I am enemey to creation, the mighty terror, I am the eclipse of the twelve suns on the Doomsday! I am serene sometimes, sometimes restless, ruthlessly self-willed, I am the youth of dawn, I crush the vain glory of fate under my feet! I am the fury of storm, I am the tumultuous roar of the ocean, I am bright, shining ever bright, I am the rippling surge of water and the roll of moving waves! I am the plaited braid of a smart maiden's locks, the spark of fire in her blazing eyes.I am the wild love that blossoms like lotus in the sixteen years old's heart, I am fortunate! I am the absent mind of an indifferent girl, the tearful sigh in a widow's heart and the lament of a despairing yearner. I am the sorrow of deprivation in the heart of the homeless wanderer living on streets, I am the heart-pangs of the humiliated, venomous pain and regeneration in the heart of the offended! I am the plaintive cry of a sensitive aggrieved heart, its intense pain, I am the trembling first touch of a virgin and I am the throbbing tenderness of her first stolen kiss! I am the fleeting glance of the secret beloved and her repeated gaze on every pretence, I am the love of the restless girl and the jingle of her bracelets. I am the eternal child, the adolescent of all times, I am the hem of the garment, the breast-cloth and the scarf of the village maiden timorous of her youth! I am the north wind, the breezes of spring and the indifferent air of the east, I am the deep melody of a wayfaring bard and the music of a bamboo flute. I am the raging thirst of summer and the fierce blazing sun, I am the trilling spring in desert, I am the cool shadowy greenery! With an intense joy I rush onward, What a madness! I am insane! I have suddenly discovered myself and all my barriers have fallen off! I am the rising, I am the fall, I am the consciousness in the unconscious soul, I am the banner of victory over the gateway of the world, I am the flag of human triumph.I rush, fleet as storm, clapping my hands that hold heaven and earth, My carriers, the spirited Borrak and Uchchaisrava, sprint with challenging neighs! I am the burning volcano in the bosom of earth, the forest fire, the holocaust of doom, and the reverberations of the surging sea of fire in the bowels of earth! I climb the lightning and fly, leaping, snapping my fingers, I cause sudden earthquakes and terrify the world. I clasp the fangs of Vasuki the snake, I catch the flaming wings of Gabriel, I am a heavenly cherub, I am restless, I am impudent and tear with my teeth the garment of the mother-earth! I am Orpheus's flute, its music lulls the heaving ocean into drowsy forgetfulness, and in sleep it kisses the earth and soothes it to complete silence. I am the flute in the hands of Krishna. When I rage and rush enveloping the boundless heavens, the fires of seven hells and Habia flicker and die in panic! I am the messenger of revolt all over the earth and the sky! I am the deluge and floods of Sravan, Sometimes I make the earth beautiful, sometimes blessed in destruction— I shall snatch away the twin girls from Vishnu's bosom. I am injustice, I am meteor, I am Saturn, I am the comet's terrific heat, the venomous killer asp! I am Chandi the headless, I am ruinous Warlord, Sitting in the fires of hell, I smile like flowers! I am made of clay, I am formed of spirit, I am ageless, immortal, inexpendible, I am inexhaustible! I am the terror of men, demons and gods, I am ever unconquerable in the universe, I am the supreme God over all gods of earth, I am the superman, the truth, I dance my way madly over heaven, underworld and earth! I am insane, I am insane! I have suddenly discovered myselfand all my barriers have fallen off! ! I am Parsurama's cruel axe, I shall rid the world of its tribe of warriors and usher calm, generous peace! I am the plough on Balaram's shoulders, I shall uproot with effortless ease this world in chains, in the joy of creating it anew. Weary of struggles, I, the great rebel, shall rest in quiet only on the day when the wails of the oppressed will not rend the air and the sky, the scimitar and the sword of the oppressors will not clang in the fierce arena of battle— I, the rebel, weary of fighting, shall be calm that day. I am Bhrigu, the rebel, I stamp footprints on the bosom of God! I am the destruction of the creator, I shall cleave the heart of capricious Godwho smites with grief and anguish! I am Bhrigu, the rebel, I shall stamp footprints on the bosom of God! I shall cleave the bosom of that capricious destiny! I am the hero, rebel eternal— Alone, I tower over the universe with my head unbowed. 1-2.7.2017 Sirajganj"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3716"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3716,
        ""poem.id"": 3716,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:40:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""'Woman' By Kazi Nazrul Islam"",
        ""poem.date"": ""7/22/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""I sing the song of equality, —In my view, there is no desparity between man and woman.Everything that is a great creation and beneficial for ever, half of it is created by man and another half by woman.Sins, sufferings, pains and tears that have come on earth, men have borne half of them and women the rest.Who belittes you, o woman, calling you a pit in hell? Tell him, woman is not the original sinner, it is man-satan who is it.Or sin or satan is neither man nor woman, rather it is neuter that flows equally in man and woman.The flowers that have blossomed on earthand the fruits that have grown, it is woman who has added juice, beauty, nectar and fragrance to them.You have seen the marble of the Taj Mahal; have you seen its soul? Momtaj, the woman, stays at its heart, Shahjahan stays outside.It is woman who is the fortune of wisdom, the fortune of music and that of harvest; woman, the fortune of splendour, is roaming in all beauties.Man has brought the pain of day and its scorching heat; woman has brought the peace of night, breeze and rain.Woman has provided strength and courage during the dayand has become wife at night; Man has come with the thirst of desert, she has provided nectar.The crop-field has become fertile, man has ploughed it; sowing seeds in that field, woman has made it green.Man carries the plough, woman the water; from those soil and water mixed together, crops grew in abundancein the shape of golden spikes of paddy.Gold and silver have become jewelleryonly for having the touch of woman's organs.Man has become poet longing for womanand having union with her; all his words have become poems, all his sounds, songs.Man gives appetite, woman nectar; from those appetite and nectar mixed together, great child of great man is born gradually.All the great victories of the world and all grand voyagesgained grandeur for the sacrifice of mothers, sisters and wives.How much blood man has offered is recorded in history; how many women have become widow is not written there.Beside the memorials of heroes on their tombstones, who has written how many mothers uprooted their heartsand how many sisters served them? Man's sword has never got victorious alone; woman, the fortune of victory, has given himinspiration and strength. King rules the kingdom and queen rules the king; the sumpathey of queen has washed awayall the disgraces from the kingdom.Man was heartless; to make him human, woman borrowed him half of her heart. All the great celebrities, immortalwhose fame knows no boundand whom we remember every yearwere begotten by their fathers whimsically.Rama left Lob-Kush in the jungle, it is Sita who nurtured him! Woman taught the baby-boy affection, love, kindnessand compassion; she decorated his eyes with kohl as a dense shadow of pain.The harsh man paid that debt in a strange way; he confined her who had kissed him holding on her bosom.He was the man-incarnationwho, at the command of father, cut his mother with axe.Woman, half the Deity, has turned aside in the world's bed; so long woman was concealed, now concealed is man.Those days are gone by, when, not men, only women were confined.Now it is the age of empathy, of being human and of equality; that no one would be other's prisoner is being announced by drum-beat.If still man imprisons woman, the turn will comewhen man will rot and die in the same prison that he built.It is the justice of Age—if you torture, that torture will seize you one day.Listen, o the creatures of earth, the more you oppress others, the more you will be impotent.O woman, who confined you in the dungeon of treasurewith the jewellery of gold and silver? Tell, who is that oppressor? Now you have no agitation to express yourself; you, the timid, speak only from behind the curtain! You cannot stare eye to eye, still you wear bracelets and anklets; Tear off, o woman, the veil you wear on head, break down that chain! Fly off the veil that has made you timid! Throw away all ornaments, the symbols of servitude! Daughter of earth! Do not roam in the jungle more to sing to trees! Flying on the wings of night, Pluto, the King of Hades, came and snatched you to captivity in its dungeon.Since then, you are captive, you are living deadin the hell of death; it was the first time when night descends on earth! Breaking down the dungeon in Hades, emerge like the serpent-virgin piercing underworld! Broken bangles of yours will not show you path in darkness.The gray hound, that is man't hunger, at the fling of your legwill drop dead at your feet along with Yama smashed and destroyed.So long you have offered ambrosia, today different is the need; the hand that offered ambrosia must offer now hemlock.Not very far is that daywhen the world will sing the victory of woman along with man! 7.7.2017 Sirajganj"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3717"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3717,
        ""poem.id"": 3717,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:40:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""'Liar' By Kazi Nazrul Islam"",
        ""poem.date"": ""7/22/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Who torments your mind for your telling a lie? Sin does not touch him who tells a lie on behalf of truth.The whole truth does not consists in only speaking the truth; Even by telling lies, we can be truthful.Speaking the truth is not a great thing; how many people are veracious? How many truthful have sacrificed their lives for truth? Those who are more fearful and more infirm in mind are more priggish, the more they pretend to speak the truth.the heroes veracious, who are adorable for their truth-loving, got beheaded laughing for the sake of truth.Perhaps they uttered many lies throughout their lives; still they are heroes—they sacrificed their lives to protect the truth.Who is he, weighing truth like a grocer? He thinks, what a great work he has done, how prudent he is! I say, o the truth-trader, is truth rice or pulse? You will rebuke for decreasing the weight of truth.The information of a truth-trader is as follows: such a measure of truth has decreased in the life of that hero! OMG! Who come here? They all weigh truth and they count too.I burst out into laughter seeing that they have bound truth with ten words.All aunts of truth came carrying scales and ropes; Weighing, they filled sacks and counting, they bound goats.Comrade, don't listen to the debate on elephants and horses, if you bear truthfulness within you, tell lies carelessly.30.6.2017 Sirajganj"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3718"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3718,
        ""poem.id"": 3718,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:40:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Still Man Is True"",
        ""poem.date"": ""8/3/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Still Man is true; I come back to Managain and again. Leaving all the blue sinsand filthiness of civilization behind, I rush to join Man's procession.Neither forest nor loneliness, I adore only the maddened din and bustle of life; the soul that longs for the blind self-successis now detestable corpse, the food for a vulture.Those who will go to the Moon leaving men on earth; those who desire the blue-eyed nymphs of heaven; those who are always indifferent to men'sdefeat and bad news; I wish they succeedin building gold-house in heavenand I live and die here only with Man."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3719"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3719,
        ""poem.id"": 3719,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:40:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To The Beasts Of Myanmar"",
        ""poem.date"": ""8/28/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""If I declare war against you, don't blame me.If I take my sword at my handand slaughter you like a boar, don't blame me.You have been killing innocent people for years, destroying their houses, crops in the fields, all their hopes and dreamsand raping their mothers, sisters, wives and daughters; you are the beast filthiest and ugliest ever born on earth; Now the time has come to stop you, Now the time has come to cut you into piecesand distribute those pieces among our pet dogs.You thought there is none to stop you.You thought all the heroes of earth are no more; Achilles, Hector, Arjuna, Ali, Rustom, Khalid Saifullah and Isha Khan passed away long ago.You thought there is no king more on earth, you are the only ruler now to create panic among menand to fill the lap of earth with death, blood, rape and crying.You forgot the poet is the last ruler of this beautiful earth; When all the warriors flee away from the battle-field, only the poet remains standing there like a mountainto protect the mankind.Myanmar is not your land, o beast, it is a land of those who are dying and fleeing in terror; your abode is dark jungle or grave.All the lands of earth belong only to men, not to beasts.The time has come all the beasts are to be slaughtered.You have made me forget to sing the songs of love.My poem is my sword now.If you die by this sword, don't blame me."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3720"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3720,
        ""poem.id"": 3720,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:40:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""'At The Ancient Shrine' By Farrukh Ahmad"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/6/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Lying at the ancient shrine, a few bones of manListen to the sound of a night-bird. The hill of memoryDescends upon his solid night making it more condensed.All these nights are only to talk to ownselves.I know, the traveler, the guest of dust, dreamt onceWith pleasure in much illusion a beautiful world; All his crowded memories are now futile dirge of life, The sound of the night-bird. His grave, a collected heapOf darkness, as it were a shoal of sand; both sides of it, There flows a fierce stream of life, full of waves; On that lifeless white shoal of sand, beside the coffin, There plays the Tom-tom. Into the old bricks, who hear the innumerable mistakes falling down into death's caves? The sound of the night-bird makes the shrine ancient tremble.6.9.2017 Sirajganj"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3721"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3721,
        ""poem.id"": 3721,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:40:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Few Lines For The Rohingya"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/10/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Still men love menexcept few cowsand a handful dogs; the rest all join the peace-procession loving the fellow men.Look, men like the tide of rivers have come in each corner of the world; look at the intolerable pangs of the world's consciencein the pages of newspapers; look, hatred is bursting open like the toasted paddyon the screen of television.Those who thought they would wipe out the existence of the Rohingya, the world people have started roaring against them.Now the world has come to know that there is no man in Myanmar except the Rohingya; Myanmar is now the jungle of Suu Kyi and her pet man-eater wolves.How will men reside with the wolves? Standing on the corridor of the United Nations, I want to declare: without delay, by cleansing this jungleit must be made habitable for men. Otherwise, by throwing my poem more powerful than an atomic bomb, Myanmar must be vanished from the world map.Then her destiny will be like that of the Atlantis.She will be sunk eternally into the unfathomanle darkness of oblivion."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3722"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3722,
        ""poem.id"": 3722,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:40:47"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sudden Rain In Spring -new-"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/26/2018"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Rain came without giving any noticebeforehand.All the song-birds stopped singingand took shelter under big leaves.All became silent.Only the Rain started singing her song.No bird can sing so sweet a song; No flute can offer so sweet a tune; No brook can create so sweet a murmur.My two ears started dancing in joy.I can leave everything for a little touchof such a rain."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3723"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3723,
        ""poem.id"": 3723,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:40:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sakira Has Bought An Island"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/4/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3724"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3724,
        ""poem.id"": 3724,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:40:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Skeleton, Body And Soul"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/20/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3725"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3725,
        ""poem.id"": 3725,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:41:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Show"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/18/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3726"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3726,
        ""poem.id"": 3726,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:41:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""They Are Men Too"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/28/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""They are men, too, like us.They have the right to live.They need love very much; It's our duty to give."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3727"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3727,
        ""poem.id"": 3727,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:41:17"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sayeed Day: 2"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/14/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Sweet spring.Birds sing.Bees dance.Fragranceso dearin air.All say: 'Sayeed Day! '"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3728"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3728,
        ""poem.id"": 3728,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:41:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Poem Of New Year"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/31/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": ""A boy sitting beside the high way from dawn to duskeither in the sun or in the rain without umbrella breaks down bricks with hammer every day; the dream risen gray into his two eyes is to get only a plate of coarse rice, neither the pilao nor the korma kabab.Yet he starves and passes his poisonous days in the sun, in the rain - who tries to know that? New Year comes and spreads pleasures everywhere; you, the happy and the rich, fill up your two handswith those pleasures heavenly; you satisfy your hunger with what you desire; But, tell me, why doesn't that poor boy have a plate of rice on this very day?"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3729"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3729,
        ""poem.id"": 3729,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:41:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My Heart Is Cool"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/19/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""My heart is cool, for it is fullof your sweet memory.My eyes are calm, for they've becomeEden of your sweet love."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3730"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3730,
        ""poem.id"": 3730,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:41:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Ghost"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/26/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Body is walking, soul is gone.You can touch and kissBut surely something you will missBody is walking, soul is gone.Soul is gone, lips are talking.You can come and hearBut surely you will miss something nearSoul is gone, lips are talking.Like Jocasta and Oedipus RexYou may have wild love and sexBut surely you will miss something dear.Body is walking, soul is gone."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""3731"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 3731,
        ""poem.id"": 3731,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-01 10:41:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Rain And You"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/18/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32866"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32866,
        ""poem.id"": 32866,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:20:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Love And Hatred"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/27/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": ""It is love which can bindthe whole mankind.It is hatred that can divideand affect all, the poor, the rich, the big, the small.It's time to leada war against hatred; it's time to fightfor the love, beautiful and bright."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32867"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32867,
        ""poem.id"": 32867,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:21:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Senryu-1"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/23/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""white cow in the fieldafternoon sleeps on her back -I don't want to die."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32868"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32868,
        ""poem.id"": 32868,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:21:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To Obama"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/10/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Your rise to power is the victory of humanity; You, the real son of America, have saved your country from disgrace.Sometimes I ask to myself, 'Is he greater than Nelson Mandela? 'You may be greater than he or he than you-it's not the matter; the fact is: both of you have built the bridge of lovebetween the black and the white; and both of you have sung the song of equality.I see Abraham Lincoln in you; In you, I see Martin Luther King.Now the flag of America glitters like the Sunbecause it is at your hand.I neither wonder looking at the Pacific Ocean nor I wonder looking at the Himalayas; Only I wonder when I look at youbecause I see in you the infinite waves of beauty of a man; because I see in you the iron-like firmness of truth of a man.You knew well, it is truth which makes a man greatand it is truth which creates beauty in a man; All colors get defeated to such a beauty."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32869"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32869,
        ""poem.id"": 32869,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:21:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Language Does Not Work"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/22/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Language does not work when two hearts speak.When two souls talk, language becomes dumb.Language becomes thenstars of the sky, waves of the seaand leaves of trees.This night we need not talk, let us listen to the dumb wordsof our two united sad soulssighing, laughing and weeping in pleasure."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32870"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32870,
        ""poem.id"": 32870,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:21:21"",
        ""poem.title"": ""After Many Hundred Years -new-"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/24/2018"",
        ""poem.content"": ""After many hundred years when my fameWill reach the sky, when new poets readingMy poems will rejoice and when my nameWill be uttered in air, where will I singThen my new songs in which flower-garden? Will I sing at all? How can a bird liveWithout singing? Life will be a burdenIf I can't sing. Oceans are born to give, Not to take water; Birds are born to sing, Not to listen. After many hundredYears when on earth all will rejoice readingMy poems, where will I be? On which bedWill I lie? Lying, which song will I compose? Will I find there these men, this moon, this rose?"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32871"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32871,
        ""poem.id"": 32871,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:21:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Poet's Prayer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/7/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Immortal and undecaying these poems, I know, will die one day; one day all fame and immortality will fall flat among the debris. The Himalayas, the Twin Tower and the Great Wall of China will be flying in the air like the light dry skins of onions. The eyes of Newton and Einstein will be upturned; upon those eyes, the blue ashes of the utterly destroyed stars will be falling down ceaselessly. Alas! where will be lost for ever science, technology, art, literature, music and paintings earned through thousand years? When these poems will die one day; when all fame and immortality will fall flat one day among the debris; when the Himalayas, the Twin Tower and the Great Wall of China will be flying in the air like the light dry skins of onions; when the eyes of Newton and Einstein will be upturned; when upon those eyes, the blue ashes of the utterly destroyed stars will be falling down ceaselessly; alas, when where will be lost for ever science, technology, art, literature, music and paintings earned through thousand years; that day, o God, pour down those poems into my soul, listening to which, all the nymphs and inhabitants of Paradise will start dancing in joy.I walk bearing such a soul which plays like a flute, sings like a cuckoo, runs stirring murmuring sounds like a spring and dances unfolding its feathers like a pea-cock. If I were not submerged utterly into the darkness of the worldly life, my soul would play such a way, your sky would start trembling; it would sing such a way, the passers-by would remain standing by speechless; it would run stirring murmuring sound such a way, poems after poems would fall down into the souls of the poets; and it would dance unfolding its feathers such a way, the eyes of the beauty-lovers would be dazzled in wonder. My soul is, as it were, a cuckoo that has mistakenly entered a city; it sings songs but the outcry of the machine-monsters does not let them enter the ears of lords and ladies."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32872"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32872,
        ""poem.id"": 32872,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:21:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""'Rain' By Farrukh Ahmad"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/5/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Rain has come, long awaited rain, in the arable hamletsBeside the Padma and the Meghna. Rain has come by the east wind.The burnt sky and the fileds have been covered with dark shades.Lightning, the beautiful fairy, has boarded the clouds.Looking at her incomparable beauty in all directions, Keya, the shy flower on a rainy day, shudders in excitement, The paddy-fields burnt in the sun want to have her touch today, Flood in the crevices of rivers bring the tide replete with life.The harsh uneven field like the skinny hand of an ill old beggarListens to the melody of that rainfall; Along with the thirsty forest, the thirsty mind wakes upAnd wants to pass the long way and the uneven desolate fieldWhere the forgotten days are lying lonely, detached from all; There the clouds of rain remain vigilant gloomy and lovely.4.9.2017 Sirajganj"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32873"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32873,
        ""poem.id"": 32873,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:21:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""'Sin' By Kazi Nazrul Islam"",
        ""poem.date"": ""8/11/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""I sing the song of equality, —All the sinners and repentants are my brothers and sisters.Among men and women, who has not committed sin in this sinful world? We are the contemptible persons, even the helmsmen of sinners are sunk into sin! For the heavy sin of 33 crore gods, Heaven is in a tottering condition.Demons enter Heaventhrough the sinful path of gods.From Adam down to this Nazrul, all have, more or less, slaughtered virtuewith the knife of sin.The world is the abode of sin; half of it is God, half of it is Satan.Listen, o fanatics, count your own sin before counting other's.The lotus of virtue grows out of the quagmire of sin, here sin is in all flowers! This beautiful earth is replete with deception and curse.Unable to avoid these sins, all the ancient incarnations pledged their souls and lives to virtue and bodies to sin.Friend, I have not told any lie, leave aside men, from Brahma, Bishnu and Shiva, come down gradually to all the devotees, sages, saints and hermits—their souls are the sacrificing ascetics, their bodies the hedonists! This world is the store of sin; here the empty sack of virtue lies on the back of Religion's ass.Here all are equally sinful; we weigh other's sins in the scale with the weight of our own sins.If you are none but a god, why do you ask for an explanation of our conduct? Putting on a cap or keeping a tuft of hair on head, you always speak as though you were not a sinner! If not a sinner, why is there such an extravagant show of trademark? Wearing the costume of Policeyou have been the crimimal of sin concealing yourself.Friend, hear a funny story: once the innocent angels assembled at a meetingof Heaven were discussing the laws of Godcomplaining against Him—‘Day and night we worship so much and try to satisfy Him, yet He does not seem pleased with us—all His love and mercy fall only on the mankind who areaddicted to sin and made of clay! 'God the omniscient listened all and told them smiling, ‘They are the children of humble dust with very frail minds; in every flower there lies the pain of mistakes, in eyes and on lips there remains curse, there is the burning desire of lust in sandal woodand thirst for kisses in the Moon! There is collyrium in maiden's eyes, silver chain on her waist, lac-dye on the borders of her feetand on her lips, the hue of chewed betel-leaf; seeing that, Cupid himself falls dead.Beautiful Satan guards there with vigilant eyes.In every breast there is the crescent bow of flowersand the arrow of flowers in every eye.All the angels said, ‘Lord, let us see how the Earth isand how flowers blossom there, at whose headthere lie death and decrepitude! 'God said, ‘ Let the best two among you go to Earthand come to know how awful its temptation is! 'Haroot and Maroot, the glory as the Sun and the Moon of all angels, came down into human habitationand became partners of the Earth of dust.Here is illusion in every human shapeand trap in every shadow; in its lotus-lake, the Moon of the sky has becomeseven hundred Moons! Sound, smell and colour have set up herea magic noose; in every bank of rivers, laughter overflows the pitchersand flute moans in every meadow! Within two days, the heart of the Fire-AngelsWas soaked with the juice of Earth; the amorous look of carp-like eyes set deep marks on their bosoms.Waving garment, overflowing water in the pitcher set on her waist, goes the coquette Zohra— the ambassadors of Heaven got captivated by that beautyand surrendered themselves at her red feet! The fear for Hell was sunk in the juice of her pine-apple lips; and the earthen bowl was intoxicated with the blood-red juice of grapes! The barrage of self-restraint was washed away, the wall of prohibition was broken down, they drank the wine of Earth on her flowery lipsto their heart's content.God said smiling to all the angels in Heaven, 'See what the evil Earth has done to Haroot and Maroot! 'Damsel knows magic here; with one inkling of her eyes, the meditation of million ages disappears in the air! The beautiful Earth possesses an eternal youth; Not Shiva, her lord is Cupid! 11.8.2017 Sirajganj"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32874"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32874,
        ""poem.id"": 32874,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:21:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To A Delicious Roast"",
        ""poem.date"": ""8/23/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""O dear delicious roast, I can't forget thy taste; Of all foods served by hostand I swallowed as guest, you looked beautiful most, you seemed to me the best."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32875"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32875,
        ""poem.id"": 32875,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:21:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mary's Mother"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/27/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""When she was born, the moon of the sky smiledbut her mother's bright face turned pale.She remembered her pastand got frightenedbecause being a girl wasa matter of shame in her dark village; she had been neglected too inevery sphere of life.She looked at the beautiful faceof her daughterand tears flooded her two deep eyes. When her husband came to see them, she cried, 'Alas! I've given birthto a daughter. Let me flee taking her away.'He asked her smiling, 'Why? 'Her father-in-law came and asked her, 'Why? 'Her mother-in-law came and asked her, 'Why? 'She looked at their faces and said, 'Nobody loves a girl in this village.'Her father-in-law laughed and said, 'Time has changed. Now both a girl and a boyAre welcomed here equally.'She couldn't believe her ears.She again looked at their smiling faces.Her baby cried in hunger. Her mother-in-law said, 'Go you all.Let us care our baby.'The male left naming the daughter Mary."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32876"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32876,
        ""poem.id"": 32876,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:21:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Mujibnama: Book 1"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/12/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""The MujibnamaAn Epic on Sheikh Mujib, the Father of Nationby Sayeed AbubakarTranslation in English: Sayeed AbubakarBook 1It was a hero who roared like thunder With the voice of a lion on the seventh March of Nineteen Hundred Seventy One, At the Racecourse Ground of Dhaka, saying: 'The people of Bengal want to get free; The people of Bengal want to live; thePeople of Bengal want to have their rights'; He, like Prometheus, nourished into His two eyes the dream of stealing fire From Paradise and had a pain within His bosom for the disgraced and oppressed People of his motherland which surged up Like the flood-tide of its thousand rivers.It was a hero as green as trees whoRoared like Royal Bengal Tiger on the Seventh March of Nineteen Hundred Seventy One bathing in the silvery light of The blazing Sun at the Racecourse Ground ofDhaka, saying: 'The struggle for this time Is the struggle of liberation; the Struggle for this time is the struggle of Independence'; In his voice people heard The tiger-tone of Haji Shariatullah, Lion-man Isha Khan of Sonargaon and Mansur-ul-Mulk Siraj ud-Daulah, the Last independent Nawab of Bengal; Spreading the cool shade of Banyan tree All around, touching the blue sky with the Firm head of Nazrul, it was a hero Who at the Racecourse Ground of Dhaka, in The fire-shedding March of Nineteen Hundred Seventy One, having stolen the voice Of Thunder asleep, uttered the call to Get free; the crowd found in his large forehead Lighting like stars the blood-stained flower-like Souls of Sher-e-Bangla A K Fazlul Haque, Abdul Hamid Khan Bhashani, Huseyn Shaheed Suhrawardy andAll the language-martyrs of NineteenHundred Fifty Two; I am one of his sons Afflicted with grief, the last poet of thisCentury, born at Ramvodrapur inKeshabpur Upazilla of JessoreDistrict; I have stood here with a heart asBroken as an earthen jar having aDesire to sing his song. I will sing ofHis victory, by whose name my countryGets awake everyday and by whose callThe sleep of whole Bengal was suddenlyBroken one day, the song of liberty Started ringing even on the lips of The wing-broken magpies and in the longRun, a blood-wet wonder-flower got bloomedIn the garden of earth named Bangladesh; Bangladesh—the most beautiful homeland Of mine—whose legends have been written on The page of Age with the letters of gold. I know, O God, the leaves of trees do notShake without your order; by your command, The Sun provides its light tirelessly fromOne corner to another corner of Earth every day in the same way; by yourCommand, flowers spread fragrance in air andBirds sing in forests; for your kindness, soBright is the Moon, rivers are so wavy, Erect are the Himalayas, oceans Are so full of water, the pillarless Sky is so blue, green are the forests andThis soil is so productive—all are soBy your mercy; your benevolence hasMade the flowers beautiful and the fruitsTasty; who has such strength, can step a footOn earth without your warm kindness? He, onWhom you take pity, survives on the pageOf time getting immortal; all other Names get obliterated easily Like the letters written on the waterOf sea. If you smile on someone with your Pity, even though he is a slave, heBecomes the king; and if you get angryWith someone, even though he is a king, He, getting beggar, begs from door to door.Which way the Sun after day bows down inFear in front of you, and which way the full Moon at the end of night sinks with bowingHead and with eyes full of tears into your Eternity, the same way, o God, my Existence has stumbled upon your feetLike a betel-nut tree broken by storm; If you give light, I will be enlightened, By that light my poem will dazzle the Eyes of the whole world like the white moonlightOf Autumn; if you give me strength, my verseFollowing the path of Milton, Dante and Homer will walk on the bosom of Eternity; if you get pleased with me, I, too, clasping the hand of my father epic-poet Madhusudan, will cross The impassable ocean of epic.The resolve I have made in this morning, O the most glorious, is known to you; And I know, without your mercy, no hopeIs possible to be fulfilled and no Expedition gets successful; I will Sing of his ballad who is the greatestSon of the great Bengali nation in Thousand years, by whose bright declarationThe Sun of independence which had setSuddenly at Plassey in Seventeen Hundred Fifty Seven peeped again inThe sky of Bengal, by whose beckoningOf finger the shackles of hundred year Slavery were broken miraculously And the whole nation started dancing inPleasure. I will sing of his ballad which Way Valmiki filled the air of earth withThe hymn of Rama. Give melody inMy voice; and let my soul bask in the fierceSunshine which fetches bright morning on earthPiercing the darkness of night; and pour downGreat infatuation of poesy Maddened with patriotism into my eyes.Whose mother is ugly on earth? Mothers Are as holy as Paradise, dear and Beautiful to their children. In the sameWay, motherlands are dear to all men.Whose heart does not get cool looking at theFace of motherland? Whose eyes do not getWet in the hard times of own country? TheGreen shepherd too, who grazes cattle onThe withered desert sings of the beautyOf his homeland. The starving peasant too, Doing Jhum cultivation with skinnyBody at the bottom of the rough hill, Sings of the glory of his birthplace withJoy. Alas! Who is the stone-hearted oneWhose two eyes do not get filled with tears onThe foreign land remembering own land? Who is the barbarian that makes anIllicit affair with wanton womanViolating the chastity of his Motherland? On one side, there wasThe last brightest Sun of Bengal, Bihar And Orissa, Nawab Siraj ud-Daulah; On the other side, there was the trap of Conspiracy made by Ghaseti Begum, Mir Jafar, Jagat Seth and the foreign Pirate Robert Clive; the cumulus ofDanger were spread everywhere.The well-watered, well-fruitful, well-fertileEden-like Bengal, green with abundant corn Fell in danger again and again forHer beauty and riches, which way a deer'sFoe is its flesh and a beautiful girl'sDanger is her own beauty. In the past, The notorious Maratha cavalryCame here to loot Bengal's all property.The Mughals came here; Man Singh, the robber, Invaded the paddy-fields of Isha Khan with his men. But Isha Khan the greatResponded courageously by breaking Down the sword of Man Singh. Later came theWhite bears in Bengal to devour the peopleSleeping in peace. To devour tearing its Whole map, they gathered well-armed at Plassey.The trumpet of war started blowing withA great noise. On one side, there stood the self-Sacrificing patriots; on the other Side, there stood the selfish hungry foreignBeasts white in color; between them, there wereA few indigenous ugly vultures.O Bengal, the beautiful native land Of mine, holy motherland! Again andAgain, what a distress descends on yourLot! When were you free of foes? Tell me whenThe venomous cobra of misfortuneDid not bite your son Lakhindar! By whichCurse, tell, you are the daughter of sorrow Of earth, O beautiful Banga! Your sonsWho were blessed with milk and rice becameAgain slaves by the irony of fate. The Sun of Independence set in theOcean of Time, depth of which was aboutTwo hundred years. All the clouds of the skyOf Bengal turned black in shame for the redBlood of Siraj; the sun-rays wearing the Burial cloth entered into graves; andA few black cats and all the owls of nightSitting into the dense compact darknessStarted mewing with cry. O Bengal, myPretty land, holy mother, my birth-place! Who loves to live in the blind iron-cage? Who does not want a free life? All the birdsLiving in the forests spread sweet notes of Peace in the air hiding the treasure of Freedom within souls. How freely all the Fishes of seas move from one water-home To another water-home! The little Ants, very insignificant on earth, Lead what a free life keeping their Backbones erect! Living with the tigersIn forests, the calm deer, too, run with aGreat joy as free as sun-rays. Only thePeaceful people of Bengal draw the yoke Of slavery like bulls in the fields ofLife for the irony of fate. Within Their eyes, nevertheless, there played the dimRed light of the setting sun of the lost Independence and within their bosom There played the pain of losing libertyLike the pain of Orpheus after losing His beloved Eurydice. That pain of Love became solid, took the shape of cloudsAnd surrounded the whole country. When thoseClouds collapsed down upon earth with the sound Of Israfil's trumpet, there roared a stormTerrible and destructive. In that fierceStorm, the throne of British empire was flownLike the dry leaves of trees. It seemed BengalBecame free; the branches and green leaves ofThe lives of people with delight started Oscillating in the wind of freedom.But, alas! Who knew, those who were besideUs as brothers were sore enemies, ourKillers! They filled the bosom of BengalWith murder, death, plundering, oppressionAnd brutality. The irritated Mob came out on the high ways to protest.What a dragon came on this land— First, hedevoured her economy, wealth and might; Then he devoured the blood of Bengalisand the dignity of women; still hisHunger remained unsatisfied! At last, He desired to pierce the heart of men and Then to eat up their dreams, ambition, hope, Emotion and fancy. Eating up theirMother tongue, he planned to kill this nationPhysically and spiritually.With the poisonous nails of that dragon, The language-eater, the high ways of Dhaka became besmeared with the blood of Innocent young men of Bengal who lovedTheir mothers, mother-tongue and motherland.In such a cloudy day, the whole nationWaited with eager eyes, which way in anAgitated ocean the passengersStared helplessly towards the face of theirBoatman and screamed aloud uttering theName of God; as if it were a roaringRiver, on whose growling waves stumbled downA tempest, falling into its trap a Helpless boat is swinging to and fro and Its passengers are crying loudly saying: `Help! Help! ' because the helmsman of their boatIs an enemy. At last, he who was The savior of the perplexed nationCame in front and roared like a lion; by thatRoar, the whole country trembled, as if in aEarthquake; hearing it, the corrupted Souls of the enemies trembled in fearWhich way the leaves of a banyan tree Tremble. He came which way the Sun piercingThe night comes in the east sky; he came whichWay after an intolerable longLoad-shedding, electricity comes backIn the hot nights of Summer; he came whichWay a brief shower comes like cool peace onThe torn heart of burnt soil in the month of Choitra. All the Bengalis, from TeknafTo Tetulia, from the shore of theKapatakkha river to that of theSurma, the Punarbhaba, the MeghnaAnd the Jamuna, welcomed him with aGreat joy filling the air with applause andFire-shedding slogans, bowing down their headsBefore him. Then they dressed his neck with a Garland and wrote `Bangabandhu', the gold-Name, on his broad forehead with immense love.[Corronation Episode: Book 1]"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32877"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32877,
        ""poem.id"": 32877,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:21:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My Paradise"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/12/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32878"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32878,
        ""poem.id"": 32878,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:21:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Blue-Eyed Dove"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/13/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32879"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32879,
        ""poem.id"": 32879,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:21:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mind Burnt In Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/18/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32880"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32880,
        ""poem.id"": 32880,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:22:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mind Has Gone Insane"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/30/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32881"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32881,
        ""poem.id"": 32881,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:22:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Ode To Flower"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/22/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32882"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32882,
        ""poem.id"": 32882,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:22:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""O Soil"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/26/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32883"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32883,
        ""poem.id"": 32883,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:22:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""No Love, No Enemy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/27/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32884"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32884,
        ""poem.id"": 32884,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:22:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My Mother"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/27/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32885"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32885,
        ""poem.id"": 32885,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:22:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""O The Cowboy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32886"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32886,
        ""poem.id"": 32886,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:22:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Song Of New Year"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/17/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32887"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32887,
        ""poem.id"": 32887,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:22:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Because I Have Conquered You"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/26/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32888"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32888,
        ""poem.id"": 32888,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:22:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mad: 3"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/14/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32889"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32889,
        ""poem.id"": 32889,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:22:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Supreme Slave"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/3/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32890"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32890,
        ""poem.id"": 32890,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:22:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""O Yusuf"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/12/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32891"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32891,
        ""poem.id"": 32891,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:23:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Shadow Of A Black Dog"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/1/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32892"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32892,
        ""poem.id"": 32892,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:23:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Life"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/10/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32893"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32893,
        ""poem.id"": 32893,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:23:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mad: 2"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/21/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32894"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32894,
        ""poem.id"": 32894,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:23:11"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Aung San Suu Kyi"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/8/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""I cultivated roses in my garden; I thought I would offer you a garland.But when the flowers heard your name, they all fell off in shame like dead leaves.Now there are only thorns for you.I cultivated birds in my forest; I thought I would make you hear their songs.But when they heard your name, they all fell down dead in sorrow.Now there is only hatred for you."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32895"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32895,
        ""poem.id"": 32895,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:23:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Earth"",
        ""poem.date"": ""7/24/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Darkness devours here catching lights, the way a lizard devours mosquitoes catching one after one with its tongue.Here terrorism swallows captured lives, the way demons in folk-talescrunch a man's bones.Here distrust eats up catching hearts, like a jackal eats up every bit of an ill-burnt corpse on a pyre.By tearing all the graves of Mohenjo-daroand Mesopotamia, by kindling lamps of atomic bombs, here, the herds of wolves start dancingat the pompous Festival of Feast; they belch with satisfaction, begin to brush their teeth, absorbed in fun.Here, the dead men, injured from bombs, cry out, 'Help! Help! 'Here, the living men, eyes smeared with deathand nightmare, enter like Pharaoh's mummy.Here, the fine arts, binding talismans on their necks, recite again and again the name of Satan.Here, poems, like slaughtered wild pigeons, flutter their wings on blood.Yet, the Sun, as usual, illuminates all regions, every day; yet, the Moon, as usual, deludes all directions with her beauty. Translation: 15 June,2017"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32896"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32896,
        ""poem.id"": 32896,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:23:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Don't Understand And Understand"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/20/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""I don't understand beautiful and ugly; I only understand woman, woman's lotus like mindand her two hands wet with peace.I don't understand forbidden; I only understand rice, one plate steamy riceas bright as pearls.I don't understand socialism, democracy or capitalism; I only understand my motherland, her holy flag, her independence as red as blood and her increasing peace and enrichment gradually.Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Buddhist- I understand none; I only understand man, man's happiness, sorrow, love, smile, song, austere endeavor and perfection."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32897"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32897,
        ""poem.id"": 32897,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:23:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Love Is A Thing"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/14/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""You love the Roseand want to get; But it has thorns, Do not forget.You love the Sea, blue, deep and dark-What a beauty! But it has sharks.You love forests, abode of birds; It has deer andalso leopards.Love is a thing-divine we say; without hindrance, it cannot stay."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32898"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32898,
        ""poem.id"": 32898,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:23:29"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Once And Now"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/26/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32899"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32899,
        ""poem.id"": 32899,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:23:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Each Day Comes"",
        ""poem.date"": ""8/8/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Each day comes to push usto the door of the Past; After the day, nothingremains but the darkness.Like Homer or John Keatswe will be mere the Past; Men may remember us or utterly forget.What lasts on earth for good? Here immortality, like our life, is also mortal and perishable."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32900"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32900,
        ""poem.id"": 32900,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:23:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My Kids Ask Me"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/17/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""My kids ask me, 'O dad, why don't we have home? Why do we, like gypsies, from place to place roam? See, birds fly; before night they come back in nest; Only we have no home on earth to take rest.'How do I tell my kids: one day I too had a country; when I remember it, I feel so sad! How do I tell them: the rich robbers of earth, like dragons, have swallowed the place of my birth? They come in the name of democracy; so we salute them, because to democracy, who can say ‘No'?"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32901"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32901,
        ""poem.id"": 32901,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:23:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Give Me Pain"",
        ""poem.date"": ""8/25/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Give me pain; I will give you poem in return.Give me storm; I will raise beautiful buildings for youon its devastation.Give me desert; I will make an eye-cooled oasis for you within it. Only do not give me any flower-offerings; I will be lost then like Eurydice into bottomless darkness."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32902"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32902,
        ""poem.id"": 32902,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:23:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Apu's Letter To Durga Didi"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/13/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""At last, you too, O my sister, have eatenthe fruit of the forbidden tree*! Those who eat its fruit are thrown away by God from the garden of Eden into the dustbin of Earth.Those who eat its fruit discover youth within their bodies; that youth sets fireto all the organs of body; then men, like drunkards, go to live in a forest leaving their homes behind, and build there with a great devotiontheir Spring-dwellings.Now I play on my old bamboo-flute sitting aloneinto Kashful garden as white as a dhuti.Crossing the border, its tone cannot reach youat your father-in-law's house in Odisha.It is many years you went to your husband's house.After your departure, barbed wires came in the border. How will I go to you, O Didi*, when the border-guards, like hunters, raise their hungry guns towards us as if we were the tasty Horial doves* sitting on the boughs of a peepul tree? Now when the fields of Autumn get full of mustard-flowers, your memory gets alive; you wearing the yellow sari used to run like a fairyon the dew-wet boundaries of mustard-fieldscatching my one hand tightly- I started panting-I only recollect those sweet scenes now.When the mango trees get surged now with small green mangoes, I rush to our kitchen to steal away some salt and then I start sharpening oysteron the cemented ghat of our pond-it seems to me you are coming within a momentfilling the loose end of your sari with mangoesand addressing me, you say, 'Look at, Apu, how big the mangoes are! Surely seeds have grownwithin them.'O my sister, leaving those wild pleasures behind, which pleasures do you run after now? Which peace does one get by getting married, Which peace does one get by going to a father-in-law's house, Which peace does one get by getting mad with bodywhen the salty tears of separation raise waves into her Apu's two eyes? Was Adam happy for a moment leaving the garden of Eden? O Durgadi, are you happy too, leaving your Apu behind? YoursApu - - - - - - *Tree of the Knowledge*'Didi' means 'elder sister'*A kind of dove in Bengal"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32903"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32903,
        ""poem.id"": 32903,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:23:49"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Why My Mind Cries -new-"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/15/2018"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Why my mind cries, mind does not know; This way many had cried before; I hear how fast waves of time goLeaving alone me on the shore.After many years when no more I'll be on earth, rivers will flow, Cuckoos will sing, tigers will roar, And storm of my sorrow will blow.Poets are born not to rejoice, They come like flute only to cry; When all others make fun and noise, They burn in pain, burning they die.Pains of life and people raise voice, My mind trembles, my eyes burn dry."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32904"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32904,
        ""poem.id"": 32904,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:23:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""How Fast"",
        ""poem.date"": ""8/28/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""How fast our hair grows gray! Before we prayOur evening prayer, the night falls.Death callsOur nameBefore coming success and fame."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32905"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32905,
        ""poem.id"": 32905,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:23:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Cry Of Eternity"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/4/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Whose cry, do I hear, mingling with the waves of eternity-ocean? Scream of which ethnic group do I hear in the endangered air? From the debris of Incas, Aztecs, Mesopotamian and Mayan civilizations, the defeat of humanity comes back again and again.Still the people flee like the deer chased by the wolves; The detestable dumping grounds everyday get filled with the dead bodies of babies and women; Is there anyone who will be able to wipe the wounds of revenge from the bosom of civilization? Is it all for us only to watch in this waythe dissected bones of the mankind? I become speechless when men, like beasts, launch an attack upon men, sometimes in the name of religion, sometimes in the name of the state; Many a doctrine has emerged just to dig the dumb graves of cryon our earth to satisfy the evil.How many times will the killers get victoriousand men defeated? Nevertheless, they must come to know: men are still alive and the killers dead."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32906"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32906,
        ""poem.id"": 32906,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:24:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My Heart"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/4/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32907"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32907,
        ""poem.id"": 32907,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:24:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My Two Eyes"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/22/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32908"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32908,
        ""poem.id"": 32908,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:24:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Still Some People"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/8/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32909"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32909,
        ""poem.id"": 32909,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:24:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Once Into A Rose Garden"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/20/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32910"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32910,
        ""poem.id"": 32910,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:24:21"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Seller"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32911"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32911,
        ""poem.id"": 32911,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:24:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sayeed Day"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/14/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32912"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32912,
        ""poem.id"": 32912,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:24:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mother"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/10/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Like medicine in pain, like cool water in thirstand like pleasure in gain, mother, you were to me, though I could not at firstrealize it. Now I seemy earth without you hell; sorrow rings here like bell."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32913"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32913,
        ""poem.id"": 32913,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:24:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Am Into Your Heart"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/19/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32914"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32914,
        ""poem.id"": 32914,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:24:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""She: 2"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/7/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32915"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32915,
        ""poem.id"": 32915,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:24:46"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mad: 1"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/22/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32916"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32916,
        ""poem.id"": 32916,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:24:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Our Knowledge"",
        ""poem.date"": ""8/27/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32917"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32917,
        ""poem.id"": 32917,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:24:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Game Of Pleasure"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""In the forests where there areonly cuckoos and flowers; In the fields where there areonly the fairs of crops; In the sky where there areonly the full grown moonand the luster of its silent beauty; In the water where there swimonly the chital fishes- My heart plays there the game of Spring festival.My heart, like moonlight, plays the game of pleasuremoving around all the beauties of the universe."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32918"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32918,
        ""poem.id"": 32918,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:25:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Feel Sad"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/13/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""I feel sad when I seeWe, men, are not still free; Religion still runs ruleOver all human fools; Still earth is not ours, Many blind wild powersIts green map occupy; They all dance, people die.I feel sad when I findStill cry the whole mankind, Only a handful TrumpsPlay here their pleasure-drums.Are we only Christian, Jew, Muslim, Jain and Hindu? Have we yet not been Man? If we can't be, who can?"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32919"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32919,
        ""poem.id"": 32919,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:25:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Darkness"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/25/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""[Dedicated to Aung San Suu Kyi, the greatest Fraud of all times] Darkness like Halagu Khan is running taking sword in hand; Light is fleeing raising its tail.The decorated dream-city will lose itselectricity for ever; in all directions, the slogan of hyenas will be heard only.Going to the shade of Bodhi Tree, I asked Gautama Buddha, 'By tasting which poisonous fruit, your disciples have become insaneand have been involved in massacrein Myanmar? 'Hanging his head, said Gautama, 'Darkness.'Going to Bethlehem, I asked Jesus Christ, 'By drinking which grape-juice, your disciples have become insaneand have been involved in massacre in Mosul, Baghdad and Syria singing of democracy? 'Hanging his head, said Jesus, 'Darkness.'Going to the holy home of Moses, I bowed down my head and said, 'Would you tell me, by eating which Manna and Salwayour disciples have become insaneand have been involved in killing children and women in holy Palestine? 'Hanging his head, said Moses, 'Darkness.'Going to Mathura city, I said to Lord Krishna, 'Please tell me, by eating which food offering to deity, your disciples have become insane and have been involved in massacre in Kashmir, Delhi and Gujarat? 'Hanging his head, said Krishna, 'Darkness.'Darkness like Halagu Khan is running taking sword in hand; Light is fleeing raising its tail.Again the days of darkness have descended on earth.I have been searching Abdul-Muttalib's son Abdullah's house in Pharaoh's city—in such a thick darkness, no doubt, the Sun of the desert had risen in the lap of Amina! [Translated by the poet from Bengali]"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32920"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32920,
        ""poem.id"": 32920,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:25:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Where We Will Go"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/17/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""So many deaths, so many corpses, so much havoc and so much ruins everywhere-perhaps walking upon them, we may reach the gate of our dream, after which remains the green room of success-and what after that? Tell, after that, where will we go? Only the hawks, the vultures and the kitesfly in the vast blue sky.The hungry foxes cry on the life's high way.That cry fetches the white wild ugly crowsin flocks.Men's ears cannot hear any morethe songs of cuckoos.Men's eyes cannot see any morethe green forests; only they seea burning hell with no trees, with no flowers.Perhaps crossing this hell, we will earn that success which is often uttered by our lips and souls-and what after that? Tell, after that, where will we go? In which success, there lies the blood of men; in which success, the civilization gets scattered, disabled and indigent; in which success, there rise the sufferingsand disasters of men; in which success, innumerable corpses of menlie down upon the paths of the world; perhaps getting excited with that success, a long procession may be run on streets, or standing upon those corpses, a victorious anthem may be sung with pride-and what after that? After that, will we still remain the human race? After that, will we still bear the human mindswithin our hardest bosoms? Or will we, in the long run, becomethe two-legged detestable beasts?"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32921"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32921,
        ""poem.id"": 32921,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:25:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Kapatakkha River By Michael Modhusudan Dutt"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/1/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32922"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32922,
        ""poem.id"": 32922,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:25:17"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Opening Your Window"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/27/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32923"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32923,
        ""poem.id"": 32923,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:25:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Paper Flowers"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/18/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32924"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32924,
        ""poem.id"": 32924,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:25:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Necessary"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/22/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32925"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32925,
        ""poem.id"": 32925,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:25:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Sigh For You"",
        ""poem.date"": ""8/11/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32926"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32926,
        ""poem.id"": 32926,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:25:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Life Of A Song-Bird"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/19/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32927"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32927,
        ""poem.id"": 32927,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:25:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Full Man"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/30/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""To a Lady: You love your children- a good mother; you love your husband- a good wife; you love your family- a good homemaker; you love your country- a good patriot; But still you are not a full man.If you loved your childrenand the whole world your husbandand the whole world your familyand the whole world your countryand the whole worldonly then you would be a full man.To a Man: You love your children- a good father; you love your wife- a good husband; you love your family- a good guardian; you love your country- a good patriot; But still you are not a full man.If you loved your childrenand the whole worldyour wifeand the whole world your familyand the whole world your countryand the whole worldonly then you would be a full man."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32928"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32928,
        ""poem.id"": 32928,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:25:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Ever A Heart"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/24/2017"",
        ""poem.content"": ""My Existence said to me, 'The tongue is so vulgar-day and night it chatters untiring.Is there any way to silence it? 'I said, 'Why, keep a pebble into your mouth.'After few days, the Existence once again said to me, 'The tongue has been silent. Now is there any way to silence the heart? 'I said to him, 'Alas! Nothing but death can silence a heart ever.'"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32929"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32929,
        ""poem.id"": 32929,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:25:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Women"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/3/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Women, like vegetables, are found here and there.Women, like fish, walk swinging their waists on the Tulsi ground; fishermen taking fishing nets in their handsget puzzled and see nothing but darkness.Women, like Biryani food, are found into the rooms of all five star hotels.Thanks to God! In our muddy cottages, there live the women having beauty and color; but more than that, they have much fragrance."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32930"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32930,
        ""poem.id"": 32930,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:25:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My Sorrow"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/2/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32931"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32931,
        ""poem.id"": 32931,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:25:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hero"",
        ""poem.date"": ""7/10/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32932"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32932,
        ""poem.id"": 32932,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:26:00"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sleep"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/18/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32933"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32933,
        ""poem.id"": 32933,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:26:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""What A Life"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/22/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32934"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32934,
        ""poem.id"": 32934,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:26:07"",
        ""poem.title"": ""War Is Life"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/30/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32935"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32935,
        ""poem.id"": 32935,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:26:10"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Goodbye"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/6/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32936"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32936,
        ""poem.id"": 32936,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:26:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/29/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32937"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32937,
        ""poem.id"": 32937,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:26:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Something Secret"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/18/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32938"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32938,
        ""poem.id"": 32938,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:26:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""What's Life"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/2/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32939"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32939,
        ""poem.id"": 32939,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:26:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Losing And Having Her"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32940"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32940,
        ""poem.id"": 32940,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:26:28"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My Earth Moves"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/22/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""My earth moves round my three kids round the clock.I need no new stars more; they are my all.No stream is so much sweet as their voice is; No nightingale so soothing as their call.I have seen no flowers on earth like them.No gem I know as precious as they are.Like hymn, day and night I recite their names.Within me they stay, they don't remain far."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32941"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32941,
        ""poem.id"": 32941,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:26:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Only Few Drops Of Your Blood"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/18/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Two deaths-death of my sister and that of my mom-hold out my breathwhen I look back.They needed blood; I, like a beggar, ran from door to doorto have a few drops from the floodof mercy of others.Only few drops of your blood, o Brothers, can save one's life; though very little workbut so noble and brave."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32942"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32942,
        ""poem.id"": 32942,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:26:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Month Of Flowers"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32943"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32943,
        ""poem.id"": 32943,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:26:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""We See It Nowhere"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/25/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32944"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32944,
        ""poem.id"": 32944,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:26:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Nothing To Do But To Wait For You"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/16/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32945"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32945,
        ""poem.id"": 32945,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:26:41"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Last White Pigeon Of Peace"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/16/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32946"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32946,
        ""poem.id"": 32946,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:26:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Hand Of A Jew"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/18/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32947"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32947,
        ""poem.id"": 32947,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:26:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""We Get"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/8/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32948"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32948,
        ""poem.id"": 32948,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:26:54"",
        ""poem.title"": ""It's Such A Night"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/27/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32949"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32949,
        ""poem.id"": 32949,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:26:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Most Beautiful"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/17/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32950"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32950,
        ""poem.id"": 32950,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:27:03"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My Haiku"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/7/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""1.sudden summer-rain-the withered leaves stir on trees; earth seems paradise.2.spring-flowers have bloomed-song-birds make a noise on boughs; my Beloved nowhere. 3.a fox on high way-a blind car ran over it; the midnight shed tears.4.month of the best fruits-air gets wet with smell and taste; hunger grows stronger.5.dew drops, grass gets wet-two white feet walk on the grass; I can't turn my eyes.6.a leaf falls in pond-small waves dance on the water; sky trembles on it."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32951"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32951,
        ""poem.id"": 32951,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:27:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The World At This Moment Of Night"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32952"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32952,
        ""poem.id"": 32952,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:27:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Ism Of Life"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/30/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32953"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32953,
        ""poem.id"": 32953,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:27:19"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Like The Branches Of A Tree In Storm"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/8/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32954"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32954,
        ""poem.id"": 32954,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:27:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""How Many Lives I Live"",
        ""poem.date"": ""8/24/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32955"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32955,
        ""poem.id"": 32955,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:27:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""When She Says"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/13/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32956"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32956,
        ""poem.id"": 32956,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:27:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The More My Heart Tries"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/3/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32957"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32957,
        ""poem.id"": 32957,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:27:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Top News"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/29/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32958"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32958,
        ""poem.id"": 32958,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:27:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Broom's Prayer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/17/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32959"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32959,
        ""poem.id"": 32959,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:27:48"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Poem Of Hatred"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/11/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32960"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32960,
        ""poem.id"": 32960,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:27:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Last Hope Of Earth"",
        ""poem.date"": ""7/4/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32961"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32961,
        ""poem.id"": 32961,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:27:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Tiger And Deer"",
        ""poem.date"": ""8/30/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32962"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32962,
        ""poem.id"": 32962,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:27:58"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Live With Your Heart Now"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/13/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32963"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32963,
        ""poem.id"": 32963,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:28:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Contrast"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/25/2015"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Look how the sun rises and sets, Earth becomes heaven where man lives; It is man who gets and forgets; It is God who gives and forgives.Roses bloom and nightingales sing, Rivers run, their waves fall and rise; It is God, gets joy by giving; It is man, only takes and dies.It is man who has made the lawand has destroyed everyone's peace.If you look, you will find no flawin God's work and in His justice"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32964"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32964,
        ""poem.id"": 32964,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:28:06"",
        ""poem.title"": ""মুজিবনামা: প্রথম সর্গ"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/12/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""মুজিবনামাএকটি মহাকাব্যসায়ীদ আবুবকরপ্রথম সর্গ‘বাংলার মানুষ মুক্তি চায়; বাংলার মানুষ বাঁচতে চায়; বাংলার মানুষ অধিকার চায়'- বলে সিংহের কণ্ঠেযে-বীর ছাড়লো লোল বজ্রের হুংকার উনিশ শ একাত্তরে, তারিখ সাতই মার্চ, রেসকোর্স ময়দানে- তাঁর চোখ-জুড়ে ছিলো প্রমিথিউসের স্বর্গ থেকে আগুনচুরির স্বপ্ন, আর বুকজুড়ে বাংলাদেশের সহস্র নদীর বুকে ভরা জোয়ারের মতো উথলে উথলে ওঠা লাঞ্ছিত বঞ্চিত বাঙালীর ব্যথা; যে-সবুজ মানুষটি তাতানো সূর্যের রুপোলি আলোয় স্নান করে রেসকোর্স ময়দানে 'এবারের সংগ্রাম আমাদের মুক্তির সংগ্রাম, এবারের সংগ্রাম স্বাধীনতার সংগ্রাম' বলে ডোরা কাটাবাঘের মতন উঠলো গর্জন করে উনিশ শ একাত্তরে, তারিখ সাতই মার্চ, তাঁর কণ্ঠে বেজেছিল একসাথে হাজি শরীয়তউল্লাহ, সোনারগাঁয়েরসিংহপুরুষ ঈশা খাঁ ও বাংলার শেষনবাব সিরাজউদ্দৌলার ব্যাঘ্র কণ্ঠ; অশ্বত্থবৃক্ষের মতো সুশীতল ছায়া ফেলে চারদিকে, নজরুলের উন্নত শিরে ছুঁয়ে সুনীল আকাশ, যে-পুরুষ উনিশ শ একাত্তরে, অগ্নিঝরা মার্চে, ঘুমন্ত বজ্রের কণ্ঠ চুরি করে এনে ছাড়লো প্রলয়ঙ্করী হাঁক রেসকোর্স ময়দানে-তাঁর দীপ্র বিশাল ললাটেজ্বলে উঠতে দেখলো জনতা নক্ষত্রেরমতো শেরে বাংলা এ কে ফজলুল হক মাওলানা আব্দুল হামিদ খান ভাসানী হোসেন শহীদ সোহরাওয়ার্দী আর বায়ান্নের সমস্ত শহীদ সন্তানের রক্তাক্ত ফুলেল আত্মা; আমি তাঁর এক শোকার্ত সন্তান, শতাব্দীর শেষ কবি, জন্ম যার রামভদ্রপুরে, উপজেলাকেশবপুর ও জেলা যশোহর; ভাঙামাটির কলসির মতো ভাঙা বুক নিয়ে দাঁড়িয়েছি এইখানে- ইচ্ছে, গাই তাঁরই জয়গান। তাঁরই জয়গান আমি গাবো, যাঁর নামে প্রতিদিন সারা দেশ জেগে ওঠে; যাঁর ডাকে আচমকা একদিনভেঙে গিয়েছিল ঘুম সারা বাংলার; স্বাধীনতাসংগীত বেজে উঠেছিল ডানাভাঙা দোয়েলের ঠোঁটে ঠোঁটে, আর পৃথিবীর কাননে হঠাৎ ফুটেছিল রক্তস্নাত অবাক কুসুম-বাংলাদেশ; বাংলাদেশ- সুরূপসী স্বদেশ আমার-যুগ যুগ ধরে যার রূপকথা লেখা আছে কালের পৃষ্ঠায়, সোনার অক্ষরে। জানি, গাছের পাতাও তোমার হুকুম ছাড়া নড়ে না, হে প্রভু; তোমারই নির্দেশে এক প্রান্ত থেকে অন্য প্রান্তে পৃথিবীর, সূর্য তার দিয়ে যায় আলো, ক্লান্তিহীন প্রতিদিন একভাবে; ফুলেরা ছড়ায়ঘ্রাণ, সমীরণে; বনে বনে পাখি গায় গান; তোমারই দয়ায় শশধর এত জ্যোতির্ময়ী, নদীগণ এত খরস্রোতা, হিমালয় এত ঋজু, জলবান এত, সাগরেরা; খুঁটিহীন আকাশ সুনীল, অরণ্য সবুজ, সুফসলা এ মৃত্তিকাতোমার কৃপায়; তোমার করুণারাশি ফুলকে করেছে সুন্দর আর ফলকে সুস্বাদু; তোমার ঊষ্ণ-অনুগ্রহ ছাড়া কার সাধ্য আছে কোথা, এক পা-ও ফ্যালে পৃথিবীর 'পর! তুমি যাকে দয়া করো, অমর অজর হয়ে সে-ই থাকে টিকে কালের পৃষ্ঠায়; বাকি সব নাম মুছে যায় অনায়াসে, সাগরের জলে লেখাহরফ যেমন। তুমি যদি মুখ তুলে চাও, ক্রীতদাসও, জানি, তবে হয়ে যায় দেশপতি; আর যদি রুষ্ট তুমি হও, রাজাবাদশারাও ভিক্ষার ঝুলি কাঁধে ঘুরে ফেরে পথে পথে। যেমন দিনের শেষে নুয়ে পড়ে দিননাথ ভীত-ত্রস্ততোমার সিজদায়; আর পূর্ণিমার ভরা- চাঁদ যেভাবে রাতের শেষে ডুবে যায় অশ্রুসিক্ত, নত শিরে তোমার অসীমে, আমার সত্তাও আজ ঝড়ে ভাঙা কোনোসুপারি গাছের মতো পড়েছে হুমড়ি খেয়ে তোমার চরণে; তুমি যদি জ্যোতি দাও, আমি হই জ্যোতিষ্মান; সে-জ্যোতিতেআমার কবিতা তবে হেমন্তের শাদাজ্যোৎস্নার মতো দুচোখ ধাঁধিয়ে দেয় গোটা পৃথিবীর; তুমি যদি শক্তি দাও, আমারও কবিতা তবে মিল্টন, দান্তে ও হোমারের পথ ধরে মহাকালবক্ষ 'পরে করে হাঁটাহাঁটি; তুমি যদি রাজি থাকো, আমিও আমার পিতা মহাকবিমধুসূদনের হস্ত ধরে পাড়ি দেবো দুর্গম দুস্তর কবিতার পারাবার।যে-পণ করেছি, হে মহামহিম, আজ প্রাতে, তুমি তা তো জানো; আর আমি জানি তোমার করুণা ছাড়া পূরণ হবার নয় কোনো আশা, সফল হবার নয় কোনো অভিযান; মহাদ্রাবিড় জাতির শ্রেষ্ঠ যে-সন্তান এক হাজার বছরে, পলাশীপ্রান্তরে আচমকা অস্ত যাওয়া স্বাধীনতাসূর্য যাঁর দীপ্ত ঘোষণায় উঁকি দিলো ফের বাংলার আকাশে, যাঁর অঙ্গুলি হেলনে শত বছরের পরাধীনতার জিঞ্জির মুহূর্তে ছিঁড়ে গিয়ে, মুক্তির আনন্দে নেচে উঠলো জাতিউনিশ শ একাত্তরে, ১৬ ডিসেম্বর, আমি তাঁর গাথা গাবো, যেভাবে বাল্মীকি অযোদ্ধার মহামতি রামের স্তুতিতে ভরে তুলেছিল বিশ্বের বাতাস, তুমি কণ্ঠে দাও সুর আর চিত্তে ঢালো তীব্র সাহসের রোদ্দুর, রাত্রির অন্ধকার চিরে চিরে যা ভূপৃষ্ঠে আনে মহাভোর; এবং দুচোখে ঢেলে দাও হে, নিশ্ছিদ্র দেশপ্রেমেমত্ত কবিতার মহাঘোর।কার মা কুৎসিত পৃথিবীতে! সব মা-ইসব সন্তানের কাছে বেহেস্তের মতো পূত, মনোহর, প্রিয়; তেমনি সমস্ত জন্মভূমি বিশ্বময় মানুষের কাছে। কার না শীতল হয় বুক স্বদেশের মুখ দর্শনে! কার না দেশের দুর্দিনে দু'নয়ন ভরে যায় জলে মহাকষ্টে! বিশুষ্ক মরুর দেশে চরাতে চরাতে মেষপাল, গেয়ে ওঠে সবুজ রাখালও স্বদেশের সৌন্দর্যের গান; রুক্ষপ্রাণ পাহাড়ের পাদদেশে বিশীর্ণ শরীরে জুমচাষ করতে করতে নিরন্ন কৃষকও স্বভূমির স্তুতিগান গায়, ফুল্ল ¬মনে; হায়, কে সে পাষাণ, বিদেশবিভুঁইয়ে স্বদেশের কথা মনে করে যার চোখে কখনো আসে না পানি? কোন্ সে বর্বর, দেশমাতৃকার সতীত্ব হরণ করে পরদেশে ভ্রষ্টা পরনারীসনে করে পরকীয়া প্রণয়ের খেলা? একদিকে বাংলা-বিহার-ঊড়িষ্যার শেষ সূর্য, সু-নবাব সিরাজউদ্দৌলা; অন্যদিকে ঘসেটি বেগম, মীরজাফর, জগৎ শেঠ ও বৈদেশি জলদস্যু ক্লাইভের ষড়যন্ত্রজাল; চারদিকে বিপদের ঘনঘটা। সুজলা সুফলা সুঊর্বরাশস্যশ্যামলা ইডেনসদৃশ বাংলার রূপ আর ঐশ্বর্যই চিরকাল কাল হয়েছে যে তার, যেভাবে আপনা মাংসে হরিণা বৈরী ও রূপবতী নারীগণপড়ে যায় নিজেদেরই সুন্দরের ফাঁদে। পৃথিবীর নানা প্রান্ত হতে, যুগে যুগে, এসেছে বর্গীরা লুটপাট করতে এর সর্বস্ব সম্পদ। এসেছে ধূর্ত মোগল; দস্যু মানসিংহ দিয়েছে সদলে হানা ঈশা খাঁর ধানখেতে। এবং নির্ভীক ঈশা খাঁরা শত্র'র খড়গ ভেঙে দিয়ে, দিয়েছে জবাব সগৌরবে। বাংলার সুপ্ত জনপদে ফের শ্বেত ভাল্লুকের আনাগোনা। বাঙালীর গোটা মানচিত্র ছিঁড়ে খেতে, হামলে পড়লো অবশেষে পলাশীপ্রান্তরে। বেজে উঠলো রৈ রৈ রবেযুদ্ধের দামামা। একদিকে আত্মত্যাগীস্বদেশপ্রেমীরা; অন্যদিকে স্বার্থান্বেষীবুভুক্ষু বৈদেশি জানোয়ার একপাল; মাঝখানে কতিপয় স্বদেশী শকুন।হায় বাংলা, রূপসী স্বদেশ আমার, পুণ্য মাতৃভূমি; এ-কি দুর্দশা বারবার নেমে আসে, হায়, তোমারই অদৃষ্টে শুধু! ছিলে তুমি কোন্ কালে শত্রুহীন? বৈরি দুর্ভাগ্যের বিষধর কালে, বলো কবে, কাটেনি তোমার পুত্র লখিনদরকে? কপালের কোন্ ফেরে পৃথিবীর তুমি দুখিনী দুহিতা এমন, রূপসী বঙ্গ? তোমার সন্তান, ছিলো যারা দুধেভাতে, আজ ফের অদৃষ্টের পরিহাসে হলো ক্রীতদাস। স্বাধীনতাসূর্য গেল ডুবে মহাকালসমুদ্রে, দুইশ বৎসর যার নীল গভীরতা। সিরাজের লাল রক্তের লজ্জায় সব মেঘ হলো কালো; রোদগুলো শোকে কালো কাফন পরে যে ঢুকে গেল গোরস্থানে; নিবিড় নিশ্ছিদ্র অন্ধকারে বসে মিউমিউ করে, আহা, কেঁদে উঠলো কয়েকটি কালো বিড়াল ও রাতের হুতোম। হায় বাংলা, রূপসী স্বদেশ আমার, পুণ্যা, মাতা-জন্মভূমি! কে বাঁচতে চায় অন্ধ লোহার খাঁচায়? চায় না কে স্বাধীনজীবন? অরণ্যের পক্ষিরাও প্রিয় স্বাধীনতাগুপ্তধন বুকের গহিনে পুরে বাতাসে বাতাসে ছড়ায় শান্তির সুর; মহাসাগরের মৎস্যরাও ঘোরেফেরে আহা-কি স্বাধীন এক জলদেশ থেকে অন্য জলদেশে; নগণ্য যে-পিপীলিকা ভূ-পৃষ্ঠের 'পরে, সেও প্রাণপণ মেরুদণ্ড খাড়া করে বাঁচে এক কি-উন্নত স্বাধীন জীবন; বাঘের রাজত্বে থেকেও, রৌদ্রের মতো উচ্ছল জীবন নিয়ে পরম উল্লাসেছুটোছুটি করে বনে সুকান্ত হরিণ! শুধু এই বাংলার মাটির মানুষ-গুলো অদৃষ্টের পরিহাসে টেনে চলে বলদের মতো পরাধীনতার ঘানি বারবার জীবনের ঘানিঘরে। তবু তাদের দুচোখ জুড়ে লেগে থাকে সেইকবে অস্ত যাওয়া রক্তরঙ স্বাধীনতা-অংশুমালীর আভা আর বক্ষজুড়ে অরফিয়ুসের প্রিয়া ইউরিডিসকে হারানোর ব্যথা। প্রণয়ের সেই ব্যথা ঘনীভূত হয়ে জমে উঠলো মেঘ সারা দেশে; সেই মেঘ ইস্রাফিলের শিঙার মতো ভেঙে পড়লে প্রচণ্ড গর্জনে, শুরুহলো অকস্মাৎ প্রলয়ংকরী ঝড়; সেই ঝড়ে ঝরা শুকনো পাতার মতো উড়ে গেল বৃটিশরাজের মসনদ। মনে হলো মুক্ত হলো দেশ, স্বাধীনতা-সুবাতাসে দুলে উঠলো মহাজনতার জীবনের ডালপালা, কাণ্ড ও পল্লব।কিন্তু, হায়, কে জানতো ভ্রাতৃরূপ ধরে যারা ছিলো পাশে, ছিলো তারা দুশমন, ঘৃণ্য হন্তারক! হত্যা খুন লুটপাট নির্যাতন নিষ্পেষণে ভরে ফেললো তারা বাংলার বুক। অতিষ্ঠ মানুষ শেষে নেমে এলো রাজপথে। এ কেমন দৈত্য এলো, হায়, - অর্থ খেয়ে, বিত্ত ও বৈভব খেয়ে, বাঙালির রক্ত আর রমণীর সম্ভ্রম খেয়েও যার মিটলো না ক্ষুধা; মানুষের বুক চিরে, চিত্ত চিরে চিরে খেতে চাইলো অবশেষে স্বপ্নসাধ তার, আবেগ, কল্পনা; জবানের ভাষা খেয়ে মারতে চাইলো দ্রাবিড় এ জাতিটিকে শরীরে-অন্তরে। নীলচক্ষু সেই ভাষা- খেকোদের বিষাক্ত নখরে ঊনিশ শ বায়ান্নে রক্তাক্ত হলো ফের রাজপথ। এমনই দুর্দিনে কাণ্ডারীর অপেক্ষায় রইলো চাতকচোখে চেয়ে পথ, গোটাজাতি, যেভাবে ঝড়ের মধ্যে পড়ে ক্ষুব্ধ দরিয়ায় মাঝির মুখের দিকে চেয়ে থাকে যাত্রীগণ অসহায় চোখে, আর আল্লাহ আল্লাহ বলে করে আর্তনাদ; কিন্তু এ যেন উত্তাল এক নদী, ফুঁসে ওঠা তার মহাতরঙ্গরাশির 'পরে আছড়ে পড়েছে ঝড়, যার মধ্যে পড়েটালমাটাল খাচ্ছে এক অসহায় তরী, আর যাত্রীগণ বাঁচাও বাঁচাও বলে করছে আহাজারি; কারণ কাণ্ডারী এর, আত্মঘাতী দুশমন এক। অবশেষে দিশেহারা বিপন্ন জাতির যিনি ত্রাতা, এলেন সহসা তিনি সম্মুখে, সিংহের মতো ছাড়লেন হুংকার, মনে হলো ভূমিকম্পে কেঁপে উঠলো সারা দেশ, আরদুশমনদের কলুষিত কু-হৃদয় করে উঠলো দুরুদুরু, যেন বটপাতা। তিনি এলেন, যেভাবে বিভাবরী চিরে- চিরে অংশুমালী আসে পুবের আকাশে; তিনি এলেন, যেভাবে লম্বা, ভয়াবহ কোনো লোডশেডিং-এর পর ফিরে আসে বিদ্যুৎ, গ্রীষ্মের অসহ্য রাত্রিগুলোতে; তিনি এলেন, যেভাবে চৈত্রের দাবদাহে পোড়া মৃত্তিকার কঠিন বিদীর্ণ বুকে একছড়া বৃষ্টি আসে শীতল শান্তির মতো। টেকনাফ থেকে তেতুলিয়া আর কপোতাক্ষ পাড় হতে সুরমা, পুনর্ভবা, মেঘনা ও যমুনার সীমান্ত পর্যন্তসমস্ত বাঙালি একসাথে মহোল্লাসেস্বাগত জানালো তাঁকে আনত মস্তকে মহুর্মুহু করতালি ও আগুনঝরা শ্লোগানে শ্লোগানে। অতঃপর কণ্ঠে তাঁরগেথে দিলো পুষ্পমাল্য, আর লিখে দিলোপ্রশস্ত ললাটে স্বর্ণনাম-বঙ্গবন্ধু। মুজিবনামা মহাকাব্যের ‘অভিষেক পর্ব'; নাম ‘প্রথম সর্গ'।"",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32965"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32965,
        ""poem.id"": 32965,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:28:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Seeing The Happiness Of Souls"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/29/2014"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Bodies die of getting envious, seeing the happiness of souls; the souls seem to lead the flowery life of fairies. Seeing it, bodies spread the sighs of hell into their eyes, lips and faces.Their two souls, as it were, becoming a butterfly, fly in infinite pleasure with two colorful wings; Love has given them the speed of light; their two lives become full to the brim in faith.How far Mexico is and how far Bengal! Still their two souls flirt togetherat one place every moment day and night; they have built their palaceeverywhere in air, in water and on soil.Seeing the happiness of souls, their two bodies get perplexed and cry for each other in two different countries."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32966"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32966,
        ""poem.id"": 32966,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:28:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Have Forgotten"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/1/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32967"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32967,
        ""poem.id"": 32967,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:28:21"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Florist"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/16/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32968"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32968,
        ""poem.id"": 32968,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:28:24"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Mexico"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/22/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32969"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32969,
        ""poem.id"": 32969,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:28:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Illusion"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/27/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32970"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32970,
        ""poem.id"": 32970,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:28:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""She: 1"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/16/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32971"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32971,
        ""poem.id"": 32971,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:28:33"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Two Years And A House-Inmate"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/31/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32972"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32972,
        ""poem.id"": 32972,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:28:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""When My Love Touched Your Eyes"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/4/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32973"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32973,
        ""poem.id"": 32973,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:28:39"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Nothing So Important But Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/30/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32974"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32974,
        ""poem.id"": 32974,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:28:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Village Modhupur"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32975"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32975,
        ""poem.id"": 32975,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:28:45"",
        ""poem.title"": ""He Says Democracy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/8/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32976"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32976,
        ""poem.id"": 32976,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:28:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Your Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""7/26/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32977"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32977,
        ""poem.id"": 32977,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:28:55"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Sound Of Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/10/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Every love has its sound; It creates and it breaks.A foil stands like gray houndAgainst it and tragedy makes.But don't worry, a dovesings sweet and cares no gun; What lasts on earth but love? It removes darkness like the Sun.With heaven it is bound, To reach God is its goal; Every love has its sound; it's the sound of winning a soul."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32978"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32978,
        ""poem.id"": 32978,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:28:59"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Last Trap Of Zulaikha"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/29/2016"",
        ""poem.content"": ""Zulaikha: What a bird you are, o red-billed Bird, you don't eat reddish mangoes! By eating which ash, will you exist thenin this bower of fate? Yusuf: That there is any fruit better than the name of Godand any food better than piety is not known to me. Zulaikha: Having eaten the fairy tale, you are living on earth; How will you know the taste of a mango, o Bird? If the roots can't touch the soil, how will the boughshave the taste of soil? Look, this ripe mango freshly collected from the tree-what a taste and fragrance it bearsand being what an easy food, it is hangingjust near your hungry beak! O very obstinate Bird, raising your deep dark eyes, stare for once and eat this mango tearing with your beakred as lac-dye.Eat for once and say how tasty it is! Yusuf: (Soliloquy) O God! Now we have reached a very mad age of blood; If you don't guide us into this darkness, we will fill upthe fertile land of youth with wrong weeds and wrong grasseslike an unskilled farmer.Zulaikha: O Prince, how beautiful your eyes are! Come near, let me get drownedinto your wavy Nile-eyessetting my peacock-boat eyes there. Yusuf: O Lady, imagine that loathsome scene for oncewhen these bright eyes, after death, will fall downupon our face getting melted like burning candles! Zulaikha: Yet, o young man, there have risen bank-breaking wavesof youth into the river of our colorful eyes; doesn't it haveany meaning? O foolish inexperienced young man, hasn't God kept the touch of His skilled hand there? Keep it in mind, there is nothing negligible on earth, not false, not meaningless.So, come near me, come here into this bosom wheremy bastard born-blind heart is burning day and nightlike a volcano.Come near- a little more- set sweetly your eyes for onceinto these swallow-eyes-I am telling you, o handsome Prince with beautiful hair, I am calling you towards this ripe, holly garden full of grapes; All my riches I will give you- all which are in my whole bodyand all which are arranged in rows into my mind.I will give you love, offerings of worship, tidal surge of painand intense passion of storm which will fill up your heart.O proud divine man, how beautiful your bushy black hair are, as if multitude of torn clouds have gathered togetheron your head. And my heart, forgetting public disgrace, dilemma and fear, has tumbled upon that hair.Yusuf: How will this hair look when, very soon, it will fall off on the hungry dust of blind grave? Listen to me, o the golden wife of noble family, what you are seeing in the mad dazzled light of youthis nothing but the illusion of lust; when the dustof your two eyes is flown, you will see, o disoriented lady, you are riding not upon the horse, it is an asson whose back you are. Zulaikha: What is my fault, tell me, o the handsome sunny Prince? Your beautiful face seems to be the full Moon of the night; Looking at this face, who can remain sane, who does not lose his sense? May be, every thing on earth is merely dreamand false illusion; but is the flame of beautyburning on your Moon-face false too? Yusuf: This face will be the food of the soil of grave one day; On that rotten face, the hungry, wild and blind insectswill come in a body to attack; This way you, me and all will become the night-foodof insects. Julaikha: If that happens, let it happen so; Still I want to be for once, only for once, your food, o Yusuf, as tasty as Manna-Salwa.O my life-long dream's attractive man, come near, a little more, come like a lion and touch me- -Yusuf: What an ugly call do you throw to me, o woman? But your husband, honorable Aziz, my Lordhas given me shelter; how do you tell meto treason against him? Won't I be as faithfulas a dog? Won't I be an obedient grateful servant? Those who are not grateful can never be successful.Julaikha: How illiterate you are! In the primitive solitudeand dumb darkness, we have only two identities: not bridegroom, not bride, not brother, not sister, not lord and slave-girl, not lady and slave-Like day and night, there are two inevitable names-everlasting, indestructible: woman and man.Yusuf: That is a rootless beastly life.But in this civilized mortal city, we have a social mind, bound with inevitable rules and customs; you canbreak that, o bewildered, strayed woman; Can we who have the fear of hell do that? That which you call light is called darkness by us; That which you call Love is called adultery by us.By God and by the piety of father Jacob, Yusuf will never give in to the waste, blue, forbidden lust.(He runs towards the door with the speed of a storm) Julaikha: Stay, o young man; don't go; hear my last words-But he's gone away- Julaikha, have you seen your illiteracy? You wanted to catch the lion of God with gossamer! Tell, where is that trap, by which I will catch him againand then confine him into the golden cage of this blind heart; If he flees away breaking that cage too, I won't get tired of losing him, I will set my trap again and again in forests to catch him finally."",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32979"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32979,
        ""poem.id"": 32979,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:29:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""You Only Know"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/4/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32980"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32980,
        ""poem.id"": 32980,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:29:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Love Is Born"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/29/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32981"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32981,
        ""poem.id"": 32981,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:29:14"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Distance"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/2/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32982"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32982,
        ""poem.id"": 32982,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:29:16"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Into Your Heart"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/18/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32983"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32983,
        ""poem.id"": 32983,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:29:20"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Have A Heart"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32984"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32984,
        ""poem.id"": 32984,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:29:26"",
        ""poem.title"": ""When We Cry Aloud For Our Beloved"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/15/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32985"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32985,
        ""poem.id"": 32985,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:29:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Waste Land"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/11/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32986"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32986,
        ""poem.id"": 32986,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:29:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My Moon"",
        ""poem.date"": ""8/25/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32987"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32987,
        ""poem.id"": 32987,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:29:38"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Will Love You"",
        ""poem.date"": ""7/15/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32988"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32988,
        ""poem.id"": 32988,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:29:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""My War"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/6/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32989"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32989,
        ""poem.id"": 32989,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:29:50"",
        ""poem.title"": ""How Far Is Mexico"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/23/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32990"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32990,
        ""poem.id"": 32990,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:29:52"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Fast"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/29/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32991"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32991,
        ""poem.id"": 32991,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:29:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Savior"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/7/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32992"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32992,
        ""poem.id"": 32992,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:30:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""For Ever"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/13/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32993"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32993,
        ""poem.id"": 32993,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:30:05"",
        ""poem.title"": ""How Shall I Prove My Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/29/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32994"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32994,
        ""poem.id"": 32994,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:30:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Cannot Realize"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/30/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32995"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32995,
        ""poem.id"": 32995,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:30:13"",
        ""poem.title"": ""To My Eurydice"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/5/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32996"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32996,
        ""poem.id"": 32996,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:30:18"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Her Two Eyes"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/14/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32997"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32997,
        ""poem.id"": 32997,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:30:23"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Flute Of War"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/16/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32998"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32998,
        ""poem.id"": 32998,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:30:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""I Dream A World"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/19/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""32999"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 32999,
        ""poem.id"": 32999,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:30:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""For Your One Kiss"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/21/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33000"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33000,
        ""poem.id"": 33000,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:30:32"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Let Us Move To Forests"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/21/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33001"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33001,
        ""poem.id"": 33001,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:30:36"",
        ""poem.title"": ""False"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/23/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33002"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33002,
        ""poem.id"": 33002,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:30:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Song Of Faith"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33003"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33003,
        ""poem.id"": 33003,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:30:44"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Easy And Difficult"",
        ""poem.date"": ""10/19/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33004"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33004,
        ""poem.id"": 33004,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:30:51"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Greed"",
        ""poem.date"": ""6/11/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33005"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33005,
        ""poem.id"": 33005,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:30:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Hypocrisy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""9/7/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33006"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33006,
        ""poem.id"": 33006,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:30:57"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Love, A Light"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/14/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33007"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33007,
        ""poem.id"": 33007,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:31:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Stony Hero"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33008"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33008,
        ""poem.id"": 33008,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:31:08"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Oily Men's Song"",
        ""poem.date"": ""7/8/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33009"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33009,
        ""poem.id"": 33009,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:31:12"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Desire"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/30/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33010"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33010,
        ""poem.id"": 33010,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:31:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Truth-Adulteration"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/20/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33011"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33011,
        ""poem.id"": 33011,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:31:21"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Best"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/24/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33012"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33012,
        ""poem.id"": 33012,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:31:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Appetite"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/19/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33013"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33013,
        ""poem.id"": 33013,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:31:31"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Poet's Beloved"",
        ""poem.date"": ""2/25/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33014"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33014,
        ""poem.id"": 33014,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:31:37"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Nazma"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/28/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33015"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33015,
        ""poem.id"": 33015,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:31:43"",
        ""poem.title"": ""O My Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/8/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33016"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33016,
        ""poem.id"": 33016,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:31:47"",
        ""poem.title"": ""If I Forget You"",
        ""poem.date"": ""11/4/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33017"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33017,
        ""poem.id"": 33017,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:31:53"",
        ""poem.title"": ""An Isolated Tree"",
        ""poem.date"": ""8/10/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33018"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33018,
        ""poem.id"": 33018,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:31:56"",
        ""poem.title"": ""First Sin Of Love"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33019"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33019,
        ""poem.id"": 33019,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:32:02"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Destiny"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/23/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33020"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33020,
        ""poem.id"": 33020,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:32:04"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Grace Of Perfume"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/8/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33021"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33021,
        ""poem.id"": 33021,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:32:09"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Meaningless"",
        ""poem.date"": ""1/24/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33022"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33022,
        ""poem.id"": 33022,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:32:15"",
        ""poem.title"": ""At Midnight"",
        ""poem.date"": ""4/16/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33023"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33023,
        ""poem.id"": 33023,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:32:22"",
        ""poem.title"": ""The Guitar Of Light"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33024"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33024,
        ""poem.id"": 33024,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:32:25"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Bangladesh"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/7/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33025"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33025,
        ""poem.id"": 33025,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:32:27"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Tragedy"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/8/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33026"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33026,
        ""poem.id"": 33026,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:32:30"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Country"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/8/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33027"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33027,
        ""poem.id"": 33027,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:32:35"",
        ""poem.title"": ""Borderless"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33028"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33028,
        ""poem.id"": 33028,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:32:40"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Caged Bird"",
        ""poem.date"": ""5/27/2013"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33029"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33029,
        ""poem.id"": 33029,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:32:42"",
        ""poem.title"": ""12.12.12"",
        ""poem.date"": ""12/12/2012"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33030"": {
        ""poet_x_poem.id"": 33030,
        ""poem.id"": 33030,
        ""poem.ts"": ""2018-03-02 20:32:47"",
        ""poem.title"": ""A Fairy Tale"",
        ""poem.date"": ""3/29/2011"",
        ""poem.content"": """",
        ""poem.author"": ""Sayeed Abubakar""
    },
    ""33031"": {
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}"