Young Writers Society


Random Poem

The random poem generator takes the first lines of nearly 3,900 poems to make a new poem. To see the full list of what's included, click here.

More discontents I never had
To spend uncounted years of pain,
Pitch here the tent, while the old horse grazes:
There was a Boy, ye knew him well, ye cliffs
Blood of my blood, bone of my bone,
APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
At last I entered a long dark gallery,
No, mother, I am not sad:

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It's a dramatic situation almost every time you answer the phone—if you answer the phone.
— Matthew Weiner