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.
...
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 most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set -
...
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
...
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.
...
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.
All those times I was bored
out of my mind. Holding the log
while he sawed it. Holding
the string while he measured, boards,
distances between things, or pounded
stakes into the ground for rows and rows
of lettuces and beets, which I then (bored)
weeded. Or sat in the back
of the car, or sat still in boats,
sat, sat, while at the prow, stern, wheel
he drove, steered, paddled. It
wasn't even boredom, it was looking,
looking hard and up close at the small
details. Myopia. The worn gunwales,
the intricate twill of the seat
cover. The acid crumbs of loam, the granular
pink rock, its igneous veins, the sea-fans
of dry moss, the blackish and then the graying
bristles on the back of his neck.
Sometimes he would whistle, sometimes
I would. The boring rhythm of doing
things over and over, carrying
the wood, drying
the dishes. Such minutiae. It's what
the animals spend most of their time at,
ferrying the sand, grain by grain, from their tunnels,
shuffling the leaves in their burrows. He pointed
such things out, and I would look
at the whorled texture of his square finger, earth under
the nail. Why do I remember it as sunnier
...
Hair-braided chestnut,
coiled like a lyncher's rope,
Eyes-fagots,
Lips-old scars, or the first red blisters,
Breath-the last sweet scent of cane,
And her slim body, white as the ash
of black flesh after flame.
...
In your eyes, I see the stars,
A universe that's ours,
With every glance, a galaxy,
Where love and dreams collide, so free.
Your touch is soft, like moonlit skies,
A gentle breeze that never lies.
In every whisper, in every sigh,
I find my heart, no need to ask why.
...
O Dionysus, breaker of chains,
I sing not for the meek, the tamed, the gelded—
But for the wolves who howl against the night,
Who tear the velvet lies from rotting thrones!
...
The illusion of time
Is created
By the illusion
Of thinking about it.
...
Far From the sky
Goutam Chakraborty
(In memory of Syed Adil Hussain Shah, a pony handler at Baisaran valley near Pahelgaon)
...
I'll always love you
because in every single way
you are so truly beautiful.
You hold my heart and soul
...
What's that noise? I heard a creak, a rattle, or was it a squeak?
That rumble or mumble came out of silence, a sound most unique
In my ear a sound so queer, an echoing word, meek and oblique
It appears to speak, in a whispering shriek, .....FREAK
...
Time forever runs
In all directions
North, South, East and West
It is a constant companion.
...
In emerald halls where life once danced unbound,
A towering realm of verdant breath and sound,
The rainforest thrived—an ancient, living spire—
Now shattered, scorched by merciless fire.
...
AfD, Rechts extreem Balkan, Trump met zijn christelijke gender waanzin. Vrouwen weer terug achter het aanrecht en beloond als broedmachines, wat een wereld, abortus verboden, en we smullen, de mannenclubjes komen gezamenlijk tot orgasme. Het racisme, en daarbij steeds de Ander of de Kwetsbaren (dus vrouwen, wat bewezen onzin is want vrouwen zijn zeker zo slim, capabel en sterk als mannen) . Droevig deze staat van Zijn, waarin de aartsconservatief zelfs het Moorden voor lief lijkt te nemen. Het betekent in feite dat onze multiculturele zgn democratische verworvenheden op drijfzand zijn gestoeld, dus we zijn blijven hangen en niet evolueren maar aan bewuste opzettelijke inflatie lijden! De man met strakke billennaad is kwaad, hij wil zijn domein terug en wordt daartoe zelfs een moordende soldaat, het reptielenbrein mag er weer zijn, of zoiets, en alle vooruitgang om Niets! Hij wil weer heer en meester zijn, een status aparte in Zijn Apartheidsstaat.
...
He's walking down the aisle
the biggest smile he ever wore
but it is not he
who will say
...
Has it been a year really?
A year of grief
You shine bright as a star
Always present in my thoughts,
...
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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5/1/2025 9:47:18 AM # 1.0.0
