Top 500 Poems
|#||Poet||Poem||User Rating||Comment Count|
Elegy Written In A Country Churchyard
by Thomas Gray
The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,
by Henry Lawson
The brooding ghosts of Australian night have gone from the bush and town;
Ice And Fire
by Edmund Spenser
My love is like to ice, and I to fire:
How comes it then that this her cold so great
"It Might Have Been"
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
We will be what we could be. Do not say,
"It might have been, had not this, or that, or this."
I Say I Say I Say
by Simon Armitage
Anyone here had a go at themselves
for a laugh? Anyone opened their wrists
by David Bates
Childhood, sweet and sunny childhood,
With its careless, thoughtless air,
by Hilaire Belloc
Who played with a Dangerous Toy, and suffered a Catastrophe of considerable Dimensions
When George's Grandmamma was told
Maker Of Heaven And Earth (All Things Bright And Beautiful)
by Cecil Frances Alexander
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
by Sylvia Plath
Stasis in darkness.
Then the substanceless blue
A Red Palm
by Gary Soto
You're in this dream of cotton plants.
You raise a hoe, swing, and the first weeds
Haiku (Birds Singing...)
by Jack Kerouac
in the dark
Anywhere You Choose
by Ernestine Northover
With this heart I'll meet you,
With this heart I'll greet you,
by James Whitcomb Riley
There! little girl; don't cry!
They have broken your doll, I know;
I Knew A Woman
by Theodore Roethke
I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
Be With Those Who Help Your Being
by Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
Be with those who help your being.
Don't sit with indifferent people, whose breath
by Charles Baudelaire
Always be drunk.
City That Does Not Sleep
by Federico García Lorca
In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
by James Arlington Wright
Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
Advice To A Son
by Ernest Hemingway
Never trust a white man,
Never kill a Jew,
Saturday At The Canal
by Gary Soto
I was hoping to be happy by seventeen.
School was a sharp check mark in the roll book,
In Memory Of My Mother
by Patrick Kavanagh
I do not think of you lying in the wet clay
Of a Monaghan graveyard; I see
Love Love Love
by Michael Shepherd
Oh it's so easy to say -
'Give what you think you lack -
Why I Am Not A Painter
by Frank O'Hara
I am not a painter, I am a poet.
Why? I think I would rather be
I Am The Only Being Whose Doom
by Emily Jane Brontë
I am the only being whose doom
No tongue would ask no eye would mourn
by Carl Sandburg
Arithmetic is where numbers fly like pigeons in and out of your