My poems (4) Titles list Soldiers Who Want To Be Heroes Come and take my eldest son, Show him how to shoot a gun Wipe his eyes if he starts to cry When the bullets fly. Give him a rifle, take his hoe, Show him a field where he can go To lay his body down and die Without asking why Soldiers Who Want To Be Heroes number practically zero
Of his many poems, The Need seems to have been one of his more popular. The Need Rod McKuen. Other poems by McKuen include this interesting selection which was apparently written in memory of a pet cat. A Cat Named Sloppy by Rod McKuen. Regardless of what his critics might have to say, McKuen’s poetry has a significant appeal to the masses.
McKuen’s poetry gained prominence in the 1960s. It is not often the subject of academic inquiry, but loyal readers have identified with McKuen’s sentiments and wisdom. His poetry is known for its expressions of love, optimism, and heartfelt longing. His website proclaims, “It doesn’t matter who you love, or how you love, but that you love.”
The Best Poem Of Rod McKuen Self Pity Spring has never seen this country, where lilac root stays frozen, cold. And monotonous river rolls And runs and rolls some more. No birds fly here, none will. No fox will chase his rabbit down pinning him to the frozen ground.. Not even cloud will come to cover the grey that stays on grey.
Adieu, Emile, it's hard to die when all the birds are singing in the sky. Now that the Spring is in the air Pretty girls are ev'rywhere. wish for me and I'll be there. Chorus: We had joy. We had fun. We had seasons in the sun, but the wine and the song like the seasons are all gone Adieu, Papa, please pray for me. I was the black sheep
We had seasons in the sun, but. the wine and the song like the seasons are all gone. Adieu, Papa, please pray for me. I was the black sheep. of the family. You tried to teach me right from wrong. Too much wine. and too much song, wonder how i got along. Adieu, Papa, it's hard to die when all the birds are.
never fails to make me cry. I cannot bear the thought of you in someone else's arms yet imagining you alone is sad. And in the day my mind still rides the bridge from Sausalito home. I do not think me and San Francisco will be friends again we share too many troubles. Stanyan Street and other sorrows. 3 We try so hard to make each other frown