Top 500 Poems
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All Day I Hear The Noise Of Waters
by James Joyce
All day I hear the noise of waters
by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
by Sir Walter Raleigh
EVEN such is Time, that takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
The Hound Of Heaven
by Francis Thompson
I fled Him down the nights and down the days
I fled Him down the arches of the years
What Were They Like?
by Denise Levertov
Did the people of Viet Nam
use lanterns of stone?
Sun And Shadow
by Oliver Wendell Holmes
As I look from the isle, o'er its billows of green,
To the billows of foam-crested blue,
by Robert Herrick
Here we are all, by day; by night we're hurl'd
By dreams, each one into a several world.
A Poem For Myself
by Etheridge Knight
I was born in Mississippi;
I walked barefooted thru the mud.
When You Wake Tomorrow
by Brian Patten
I will give you a poem when you wake tomorrow.
It will be a peaceful poem.
by Tony Hoagland
If you are lucky in this life,
you will get to help your enemy
by Mark Twain
Genius, like gold and precious stones,
is chiefly prized because of its rarity.
I Am Accused Of Tending To The Past
by Lucille Clifton
i am accused of tending to the past
as if i made it,
Self-Portrait At 28
by David Berman
I know it's a bad title
but I'm giving it to myself as a gift
All That Is Gold Does Not Glitter
by John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
He Is More Than A Hero
He is more than a hero
he is a god in my eyes--
by George Herbert
When thou didst entice to thee my heart,
I thought the service brave:
Freedom Of Love
by Andre Breton
(Translated from the French by Edouard Rodti)
My wife with the hair of a wood fire
In The Park
by Gwen Harwood
She sits in the park. Her clothes are out of date.
Two children whine and bicker, tug her skirt.
Look To This Day
Look to this day:
For it is life, the very life of life.
by Henry Van Dyke
Too Slow for those who Wait,
>≫≫I Want To Die
by Abdul Wahab
Heavenly cursed and heavily sinned I
No more i like to add them, so, I want to die
A Dead Boche
by Robert Graves
To you who’d read my songs of War
And only hear of blood and fame,
by Carolyn Forché
What you have heard is true. I was in his house.
His wife carried a tray of coffee and sugar. His
"To Speak Of Woe That Is In Marriage&Quot;
by Robert Lowell
"The hot night makes us keep our bedroom windows open.
Our magnolia blossoms.Life begins to happen.
The Supply Teacher
by Allan Ahlberg
Here's the rule for what to do
If ever your teacher has the flu