Fear poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best fear poems ever written. Read all poems about fear.
Fear no more the heat o' the sun;
Nor the furious winter's rages,
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;
...
One heavy day I ran away from the grim face of society and the dizzying clamor of the city and directed my weary step to the spacious alley. I pursued the beckoning course of the rivulet and the musical sounds of the birds until I reached a lonely spot where the flowing branches of the trees prevented the sun from the touching the earth.
I stood there, and it was entertaining to my soul - my thirsty soul who had seen naught but the mirage of life instead of its sweetness.
...
Things that go 'bump' in the night
Should not really give one a fright.
It's the hole in each ear
That lets in the fear,
...
Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! I fear lest it
droop and drop into the dust.
I may not find a place in thy garland, but honour it with a touch of
...
All all and all the dry worlds lever,
Stage of the ice, the solid ocean,
All from the oil, the pound of lava.
City of spring, the governed flower,
...
A stone I died and rose again a plant;
A plant I died and rose an animal;
I died an animal and was born a man.
...
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A darting fear—a pomp—a tear—
A waking on a morn
...
Child, child, love while you can
The voice and the eyes and the soul of a man,
Never fear though it break your heart -
Out of the wound new joy will start;
...
So, I shall see her in three days
And just one night, but nights are short,
Then two long hours, and that is morn.
See how I come, unchanged, unworn!
...
Being but men, we walked into the trees
Afraid, letting our syllables be soft
For fear of waking the rooks,
For fear of coming
...
A mason came forth and said, "Speak to us of Houses."
And he answered and said:
...
When your face came rising
above my crumpled life,
the only thing I understood at first
was how meager were all my possessions.
...
As an unperfect actor on the stage
Who with his fear is put beside his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart,
...
In the silence of the night Death descended from God toward the earth. He hovered above a city and pierced the dwellings with his eyes. He say the spirits floating on wings of dreams, and the people who were surrendered to the Slumber.
When the moon fell below the horizon and the city became black, Death walked silently among the houses - careful to touch nothing - until he reached a palace. He entered through the bolted gates undisturbed, and stood by the rich man's bed; and as Death touched his forehead, the sleeper's eyes opened, showing great fright.
...
The first speaker said
Fear fire. Fear furnaces
Incinerators, the city dump
The faint scratch of a match.
...
SOMETIMES with one I love, I fill myself with rage, for fear I effuse
unreturn'd love;
But now I think there is no unreturn'd love--the pay is certain, one
...
WHEN daisies pied and violets blue,
And lady-smocks all silver-white,
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight,
...
{INSPIRED TO WRITE IN THIS FORM AFTER READING
KARIN ANDERSON'S 'BUTTERFLY MAGIC'}
[ a poem of ten lines syllable count equating
to line number]
...
Are you the body that is sure to die?
Or are you the one who will go into the sky?
Why don't you stop and find out, 'Who am I? '
Then, there will be no need to cry
...
Behold; I have no fear of You
though You are everywhere conspicuously,
though every single moment the whole universe
is not empty from Your high excellency presence
...
If in Jesus we can do all things
What do we fear?
If He makes us conquerors
Who and what can stop us?
...
Fear is a darkroom where only evils survive
Fear is the beginning of every evils and sins
Reason for fear is rooted in self confidence
...
FEAR IS MOTHER OF ALL EVILS
Fear is dark room where negatives are only developed
...
The whole world is in panic
The whole world is in fear!
They don't know what the truth is
But they are zapped with what they hear
...
Fear was never meant to be a disease
No antibiotic can address this illness
No psychotherapist is ready to undress this monster
Fear is a protruding force in today's global village
...
I fear not the Death that will kill me, I only fear that I may not be ready to receive him at the door when he comes visiting.
I fear not the fire that will consume me, I only fear the scars it will leave behind.
I fear not the failure that stares at me in the face. I only fear that I may not be able to move a muscle and try.
I fear not fear itself, I only fear the smell of cowardice.
...
Fear: a mirror reflection of what I am;
The more I look at; the more I'm scared, ,
...
elephant rides with squirrel and ant to the austrian forests.
the car is blue and warm. it has faux leather seats. That's not
very comfortable yet not uncomfortable enough for the
collection of squirrel.
‘what collection?' asks ant.
squirrel fetches a box from his suitcase.
‘this is my collection of fear.' in the box sits a plastic
spider with six legs, a fragment of an antenna, an empty
ampule and a small notebook.
‘I'm writing a fear poem in that notebook. go ahead, read.'
ant takes the notebook and reads:
I hereby collect
the fear that
today's world will disappear
the fear that there are
limits to
my growth
the fear that I shall remain in
bullfrog perspective
the fear of moving from a
juniper bush to
a standard oak
the fear of crossing
the road to
grandmother's oak
the fear that the
clouds drifting by will push
the nahtenna to fall on top of me
the fear of being gobbled up by
the bed
the fear of
spiders in the
basement
the fear for
desperate demonstrators
the fear of having enough
money to buy
a gun and
reason enough to radicalise
ideas with
a violence that justifies itself
the fear to lie in
bed paralysed by
fear
the fear of saying what I fear
the fear that
truth is a socially determined
category and furthermore something like
society doesn't exist
the fear I will not get any
beech nuts
the fear of not being able to quit my
dependency on
beech nut oil
‘it's not finished. wait, here, I've got some inspiration.'
squirrel snatches the notebook from ant. while he adds
another line, he tastes their sound out loud:
the fear that with
an elephant at
the wheel I will crash into the
display window of
a porcelain shop
‘nothing I have written has ever come to pass.'
to the left of the car the sun is slowly rising. ant
believes he can see snow in the distance.
‘yesterday I coloured in a mushroom,' ant says.
‘miss hare held my mushroom in the air so that everyone
could see it. that's how pretty she thought it was.' he takes the
empty ampule from squirrel's box . ‘what's this?'
‘careful, it contains a panic-blip. you can't predict
what might happen in a panic-blip.'
squirrel picks up his notebook again and writes:
the fear that that which
miss hare tells in
class is
a pre-agreed lie
just in that moment elephant slows down and stops on
the side of the road.
‘let's take a moment, stretch our legs, time for breakfast.'
he opens the boot. he summons ant and squirrel. tucked under a
blanket lie presents and chocolate and speculas.
‘this is from saint nicolas,' says elephant, ‘he came
into the car while you were sleeping.'
...
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