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.
...
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
...
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.
...
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 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.
...
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
...
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.
I.
THE FATHER.
FATHER of Heaven, and Him, by whom
It, and us for it, and all else for us,
Thou madest, and govern'st ever, come
And re-create me, now grown ruinous:
My heart is by dejection, clay,
And by self-murder, red.
From this red earth, O Father, purge away
All vicious tinctures, that new-fashioned
I may rise up from death, before I'm dead.
II.
THE SON.
O Son of God, who, seeing two things,
Sin and Death, crept in, which were never made,
By bearing one, tried'st with what stings
The other could Thine heritage invade ;
O be Thou nail'd unto my heart,
And crucified again ;
Part not from it, though it from Thee would part,
But let it be by applying so Thy pain,
Drown'd in Thy blood, and in Thy passion slain.
III.
...
Already six years past your age!
The steps in Rome,
the house near Hampstead Heath,
& all your fears
that you might cease to be
before your pen had glean'd. . . .
My dear dead friend,
you were the first to teach me
how the dust could sing.
...
I remember the way I sat on that bed.
Those words combined my head
You said it wasn't me
You said there was no other girl
But I just almost wanted to hurl
The feet i bruised from falling so hard
You‘ve forever bruised my heart
The last words you said to me play like a melody
Maybe I'm overreacting, but how could I feel it then?
...
To compete with artificial intelligence is the biggest challenge
for every fear in the poets mind
not only the lamps of inspiration
and the many clusters of dream
...
I shouldn't have gone there in the first place
knowing that I will not have been accepted
by anyone in that city
coming from the village with a culture
...
how do we live?
being a middle class person
Living with little money
We don't care for money
...
Oh fall has arrived
And every day is geting colder
He takes care of me
He strips me first
...
Your life ended here, just a few days ago
I watched the light fade, slow and low
In that hospital bed, where time stood still
Your final breath whispered against my will
...
You, sixty years ago, Father molded my soul,
Crafted me with hands, made my spirit whole.
Placed me on this Earth, it's the world I know,
Now I'm living, breathing, through the highs and lows.
...
Oh, the rain keeps knocking, softly on my door,
April's weeping rivers, flooding dreams once more.
Not a single sunrise, not a glimpse of gold,
Father, where's the warmth that these bones can hold?
...
People, I will live
I will always be there for you
Écoute-moi, my dear friend
We've walked this road, it's nothing new
...
"Quietus in the Grainlight"
The chaff falls without making a sound that lasts.
...
Nine years carried on frail shoulders,
each calendar page turns like a heavy stone.
August twenty-fifth remains an unhealing wound,
a quiet echo of smoke, running feet,
...
A polished sign above the gate
A bright, clean logo, and grand
A promise written in the air
To heal a wounded, broken land
...
I have read too many dramas
each one amused me, except this one
the so-called international law,
so witty, hollow like a grand performance
...
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 a 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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10/5/2026 2:32:09 AM # rel_20260925T122446Z_7d6ee41
