This is a newer poem, a brand new poem.

And here's her poem.

It's a longer poem.

That's a great poem.

And so she wrote her first poem, a love poem unlike any I had ever heard before.

My poem is called Dirt.

She scoffed at my poem.

He read the poem again.

What's the heart of this poem?

The great poem of John Donne's.

This poem was written last night.

The next poem is also rather short.

It says, Thoughts This poem is impossible.

This poem was originally written in French.

He can't seem to understand that poem.

She was absorbed in writing a poem.

And the poem is called, Spring and Fall.

So the little poem is called The Dead.

I think Donne wrote a poem about that.

So I'd like to close with this poem.

I wrote this next poem for my mother.

I'm going to begin by reciting a poem.

She taught me how to write a poem.

It's a line from a poem by John Keats.

Another, different kind of poem of youth and age.

I started with a poem, I'll end with one.

The poem is called No Man is an Island.

And sometimes I get to the end of the poem and look back and go, Oh, that's what this is all about, and sometimes I get to the end of the poem and haven't solved anything, but at least I have a new poem out of it.

The next poem is If No One Ever Marries Me.

Thank you. And the last poem is called The Dead.

And the poem began, Anderson Cooper is a gorgeous man.

She had no difficulty in learning the poem by heart.

Shizuko composed a poem about the change of the seasons.

And it's not a mindless mantra, and it's not a poem.

I wrote this poem for her. These are not my beliefs.

After climbing Mt. Fuji, I got the inspiration for a poem.

I just have time to read a more recent poem to you.

Tom told her that he had written that poem two years before.

Whether Shakespeare wrote this poem or not will probably remain a mystery.

So I am going to read a poem that was chosen just now.

There's a poem by Jack Gilbert called The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart.

It doesn't matter whether it's a poem or whether it's a mathematical text.

I want to end with a poem by an American poet called Lucille Clifton.

Part of the poem takes place in space we shared and time we shared.

After his lecture, a student got up and said to him, Give us a poem.