Poems
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
...
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
...
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
...
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
...
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
...
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
...
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
...
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
...
The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set -
...
Writing a poem is not about bringing some words together to create some charming sentences. It's so much deeper than that. Writing poetry is a bridge that allows people to express their feelings and make others live every single word they read. Poetry is to educate people, to lead them away from hate to love, from violence to mercy and pity. Writing poetry is to help this community better understand life and live it more passionately. PoemHunter.com contains an enormous number of famous poems from all over the world, by both classical and modern poets. You can read as many as you want, and also submit your own poems to share your writings with all our poets, members, and visitors.
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its lovliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkn'd ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.
...
not of silver nor of coral,
but of weatherbeaten laurel.
Here, he introduced a sea
uniform like tapestry;
here, a fig-tree; there, a face;
there, a dragon circling space --
designating here, a bower;
...
Those charming smiles on those familiar faces,
Kept strolling down the street
Leaving behind no traces.
As time fleeted, old doors creaked
People changed but not those places.
Those lanes and alleys blushed the same
I remember growing up in these lanes
Where I ran, fell and played those games
I remember all my old mates and their names
My old street is as beautiful as it claims.
...
The heart remains distracted,
Far from the stillness of serenity,
Blind to the weight
Of these fleeting worldly affairs—
...
The shadows fell; there was darkness,
and the bells stopped ringing in the towers.
The night came with such subtle stillness,
and the petals fell from all the flowers.
...
I saw a man that came in rags, face deep with wrinkled crags, he spoke softly
told the story of his life, riches a model wife and an error so costly
His tale he told of a business made of gold where he bought and sold internationally
Office in a tower, owned a country bower, a man of power, he acted rationally
...
Take me back to distant past,
Filled with precious memories.
Gone like a passing breeze,
Still here in my heart to last.
...
I don't love you like fireworks —
loud, flashing, gone in seconds.
I love you like fire —
quiet,
...
I have reached myself
In this pleasant morning,
This is the key for me,
Till the end of the day
...
All my friends are round
And their hair is gray
I can hardly walk
On class reunion day
...
I was born in the other hemisphere
Raised in the lullabies of Vietnam
Carrying the soul of red basalt soil
Sending my heart across to Australia's ocean waves
...
June arrives quietly
a soft wind carrying the red petals
they fall like a flame of time lit by cicadas
onto the bright schoolyard
...
now the slow spring breeze
even the peach trees hold their breath
The cold has delayed past the promise of swallows
...
the quiet farmer's dream burns brightly, stained with blood
ploughing the soil where mothers sent their children
not to seek glory, but to guard the morning, guard it for planting
...
I never told my father
that the birds spoke for me
those tiny flares of green and red
breaking across the sky
...
I dwell
In the absence
You left behind
...
If you die before me
I would jump down into your grave
and hug you so innocently
that angels will become jealous.
...
Indoors by technology, outdoors by speedy transport
I travel the world
Today in Japan, tomorrow in Rome,
Next day by an ancient civilization or in Hawaii or Coast Ivory,
...
The low lands call
I am tempted to answer
They are offering me a free dwelling
Without having to conquer
...
Beautiful is the 'thank you'
Wrapped with gratitude,
Offered to peace prone people
Who offer what is real-themselves
...
The Peace Warrior Of Mzansi, among heroes - a colossus!
Sun Of The Nation; a rare gift of Providence.
Once, entangled in the web of racist succubus;
Unruffled he declares before High Justice:
...
(This is a composition in Pilipino Language the first one I did, the only one, and hope some of the Filipinos will get this funny poem in this site. The poem is updated with English translation)
Noong taong otsenta dekada
...
Love and lust are poles apart.
Lust is chaos, love is art.
...
Rappelle-toi Barbara
Il pleuvait sans cesse sur Brest ce jour-là
Et tu marchais souriante
Épanouie ravie ruisselante
...
you put this pen
in my hand and you
take the pen from you put this pen
...
On this dry prepared path walk heavy feet.
This is not "dinner music." This is a power structure.
...
"Come, pretty birds, present your lays,
And learn to chaunt a goddess praise;
Ye wood-nymphs, let your voices be
Employ'd to serve her deity:
...
If you had the choice of two women to wed,
(Though of course the idea is quite absurd)
And the first from her heels to her dainty head
Was charming in every sense of the word:
...
A little while, a little while,
The weary task is put away,
And I can sing and I can smile,
Alike, while I have holiday.
...
Between us now and here -
Two thrown together
Who are not wont to wear
Life's flushest feather -
...
185
"Faith" is a fine invention
When Gentlemen can see—
...
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6/17/2025 4:26:43 AM # 1.0.0
