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.
...
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
...
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.
...
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;
...
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.
...
I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.
...
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.
When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutored youth,
Unlearnèd in the world's false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue;
On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O, love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love, loves not to have years told.
Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flattered be.
...
She plucked a blossom fair to see;
Upon my coat I let her pin it;
And thus we stood beneath the tree
A minute.
She turned her smiling face to me;
I saw a roguish sweetness in it;
I kissed her once;—it took, maybe,
A minute.
...
I don't believe in coincidence
Even less when multiplied
I believe in design,
Strings and reactors
And the wings of butterflies
I believe in their effect
And the energy we create
I believe that intuition
Is a catalyst for fate
...
Change Of Climate Is God's Act!
Cloudy cold days have suddenly turned into hot Summer day;
Again tiredness and dizzy kind of sensation affect many now;
...
I hope today's blessing is like ice cold water on a boiling hot day…
refreshing…and easy to swallow:
May your karma be so good
...
When I look at my life I can't believe how often I am struck…
by how fortunate I've been to have such rotten luck!
Rotten luck to be born with faulty vision…
...
Think of time flying
Without wings
Would it be dangerous?
If time stand still
...
Gosh today I'm angry,
Angrier than ever before,
You should be very careful,
Before throwing stones at glass walls,
...
Youth like my smokes, gone
pleasure dissolved in air
wrinkled wrapper withdrawn
shaken empty, despair
...
You cant remember someone else's memories
I tried to tell them in Wonderland
Of course they disputed me
It was their business to do so
...
[de lacrimis Christi
tears of sleeping birds this evening I heard or read
from the National Geographic blurb, tears of sleeping
...
Full of stars,
Life with love,
And we live in it.
We are in light.
...
I want to write a poem about the flower moon
That is, the moon that blooms in May
As if it were a flower on a very long stem
Who will pluck it out of the sky
...
Your eyes are like mirrors of the deep
Fathom upon fathom of emotions do peep
Your eyes are like mirrors of the sky
They flash like lightning, before they cry…
...
(for an image by Abdelhaq Djellab)
... ... ... ... ... ... .... ...
Leonardo once began a voyage of daydreaming by gazing at spots on a weathered wall. Now another painter invites the weathering to converge and condense, letting it become a non-repeating texture, a non-pattern that is nonetheless a pattern, a background that could usurp the subject matter at any moment, inverting the host-guest relation and filling a courtyard or barnyard with dreams. The fowl luxuriates in its plumage, turning a morning of foraging into an occasion for self display. The head turns halfway about as if to check on something. Is the other fowl watching from nearby? Is the owner within sight? Their quiet nearness is a reassuring signal of safety, or an early warning system to expand the fowl's circle of vigilance. The fowl's ancestor bartered its use of wings to have this nearness, because it prefers a life of studious attention to grubs in soil. Every life has bartered away something; every living thing moves among dreams but must leave them in the background. For every life there is a teardrop over its bartered loss and gain. Every tear is a long-incubated moment of poignancy, like a seed that holds a whole predicament distilled into one drop, in which the involuted refection of a life is captured, and its growth-intent is suspended in a formal embryonic shape.
...
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—
...