I'm a huge poetry fan, i'm a writer myself. So i challenge those of you who dare, to write a poem. Something dark or humorous sad or logical or downright nonesensical post it right here if you want i got this idea since i just finished another one of my own and decided to share it with you guys, critic is accepted at all times, have fun with it guys, you might just find the writer in you ;) Art of the written word

A sweet and many amused rhyme
Used a writer's one sense of time
Lyres and faery lands forlorn
A bough where a gentle incense hangs
Nightingale the most poetic
Of such a sweet verse sang
loves bloom and withering fade
Just as springs night to winters day
The silent written word
Be it heard by soft tone
Or unheard by seeing eyes alone
Sepulchres made of aged stone
Lustful eyes laid upon lush evergreen
Fey, starry, and pure
Left behind forgotten lores
Glistening stars speaking evermore
Gentle whispers
Sounding seas
Depths far too deep
Listen and you will hear
All such sounds
Pulling you toward
The art of the written word.

The vertical height of a soccer ball can be represented by the following function, where h(x) represents the height, in feet, x seconds after the soccer ball is kicked. rewrite the function in the form that reveals the times at which the soccer ball is on the ground.

What was the main reason for truman’s decision to drop the atomic bomb on japan? to shorten the war to punish japan to save american lives the answer is c!

*ill give best answer brainliest*read the excerpt below and answer the question. we did not know, as yet, which was the better side, right or left, which road led to prison and which to the crematoria. still, i was happy, i was near my father. our procession continued slowly to move forward. another inmate came over to us: “satisfied? ” “yes,” someone answered. “poor devils, you are heading for the crematorium.” he seemed to be telling the truth. not far from us, flames, huge flames, were rising from a ditch. something was being burned there. a truck drew close and unloaded its hold: small children. babies! yes, i did see this, with my own eyes . . children thrown into the flames. (is it any wonder that ever since then, sleep tends to elude me? ) so that was where we were going. a little farther on, there was another, larger pit for adults. what is the conflict portrayed in this excerpt from elie wiesel’s night? select all that apply. the external conflict between the nazis and the jews the external conflict between the nazis and the allies the external conflict between wiesel and the inmate the internal conflict between wiesel’s memory of the burning bodies and his desire for peaceful sleep