Top 500 Poems
|#||Poet||Poem||User Rating||Comment Count|
by Gwendolyn Brooks
Abortions will not let you forget.
You remember the children you got that you did not get,
Alone And Drinking Under The Moon
by Li Po
Amongst the flowers I
am alone with my pot of wine
A Gleam Of Sunshine
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
This is the place. Stand still, my steed,
Let me review the scene,
The Rose That Grew From Concrete
by Tupac Shakur
Did you hear about the rose that grew
from a crack in the concrete?
Not Waving But Drowning
by Stevie Smith
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
A Grain Of Sand
by Robert William Service
If starry space no limit knows
And sun succeeds to sun,
by Dylan Thomas
Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
A Moments Indulgence
by Rabindranath Tagore
I ask for a moment's indulgence to sit by thy side. The works
that I have in hand I will finish afterwards.
"I Said To Love"
by Thomas Hardy
I said to Love,
"It is not now as in old days
The Passionate Shepherd To His Love
by Christopher Marlowe
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
Always Marry An April Girl
by Ogden Nash
Praise the spells and bless the charms,
I found April in my arms.
by Fabrizio Frosini
Yearning for tenderness.
The one lost —It's so long -so long
Sonnet 14 - If Thou Must Love Me, Let It Be For Nought
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
If thou must love me, let it be for nought
by Margaret Atwood
The moment when, after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill
Which severs those it should unite;
by Elizabeth Bishop
I caught a tremendous fish
and held him beside the boat
by Khalil Gibran
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
It may be misery not to sing at all,
And to go silent through the brimming day;
For Whom The Bell Tolls
by John Donne
PERCHANCE he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill, as that he
knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so
by Charlotte Brontë
LIFE, believe, is not a dream
So dark as sages say;
by Rainer Maria Rilke
My eyes already touch the sunny hill.
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
by Oscar Wilde
THE wild bee reels from bough to bough
With his furry coat and his gauzy wing.
by Marieta Maglas
This game is the way in which slaughter becomes an end in itself.
Acta est fabula plaudite
If We Must Die
by Claude McKay
If we must die, let it not be like hogs
Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,
by Robert Louis Stevenson
How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?