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.
...
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.
...
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;
...
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.
O never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify:
As easy might I from myself depart
As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie;
That is my home of love; if I have ranged,
Like him that travels, I return again,
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,
So that myself bring water for my stain.
Never believe, though in my nature reign'd
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
That it could so preposterously be stain'd
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good:
For nothing this wide universe I call,
Save thou, my rose: in it thou art my all.
...
Let's go see Old Abe
Sitting in the marble and the moonlight,
Sitting lonely in the marble and the moonlight,
Quiet for ten thousand centuries, old Abe.
Quiet for a million, million years.
Quiet-
And yet a voice forever
Against the
...
Love made me colorblind,
so I couldn't read his color.
He waved his flag at every chance,
and framed every word with reasons.
The flag was always there
it had been always there,
a warning in plain sight
but I saw only green.
Green! ! ! !
...
Sleep is a strange magician—
so gentle when she comes,
yet powerful enough
to defeat the strongest man.
...
When night pours its ink
across the breathing face of the earth,
and the last footsteps dissolve
into the corridors of darkness,
...
No map was drawn for where I went.
No compass spun, no guide was sent.
I walked through valleys, dark and deep,
And planted lies I'd have to reap.
...
I trace the light that lingers in your eyes,
And find no language built to hold its gleam.
Your laugh slips past the borders of the wise,
Like music drifting through a sweet dream.
...
Age is indeed catching up like a long winter,
My habits are becoming intoxicating and troubling for others.
Whenever I get a piece of paper, I start scribbling,
Often without any meaning.
...
A sadness akin to the night descends
Upon a distant harbor.
Where row upon row of priceless pride
Stand with head bowed low, devoid of worth.
...
When the Blue Meets the Gold
The blue above the Dnipro burns,
The wheat fields blaze beneath the sun;
...
Men is professor Pen en Arnold Heertje al snel vergeten. In de hypocriete IK-culturen heeft tech als verslavende religie een inbreuk gedaan op bekende relatief betrouwbare modellen van economie en samenleving in het zgn Beschaafde Westen! Professor Pen leerde me dat de afstand tussen vraag en aanbod kan bewegen maar dat er geen absolute werkeloosheid bestaat (er is dus altijd een balk in de grafiek zonder werk anders klopt er iets niet) in de zin dat die maar blijft groeien! Alles heeft dynamiek in de menselijke handelingen, Oikonomos, het huishoudboekje lieten we over aan adviseurs en politici die wie toch al steeds minder vertrouwden, onze eigen luiheid is er debet aan dat we veilig wanend, wegkijken en ons aan de mem van de BigTech en Mercantielen hebben laten binden uit angst voor melkgebrek! Pen leerde ons met simpele X en Y-as overwegingen dat absolute werkgelegenheid eveneens niet Bestaat! Er is in de dynamiek altijd wel gebuffer en gestoot en men kan _trend_ speculeren over wat er gaat komen, maar als er totale werkgelegenheid is dan is er dus arbeider schaarste en dan kan iedereen een loon vragen zo niet dubbel of drievoudig om de leemten op te vullen van het tekort dat onze gulzige verwende consumentjes immer meer verwachtend als iets heel normaals, wat het natuurlijk helemaal niet is noch was! Zodra iedere volkse of arbeiderspersoon gaat en mag speculeren gaat het helemaal mis! Men heeft zich overgeleverd aan de grillen en aan een piramidestelsel en het recht der onbeschoftste volhardende gelijk willen hebbende discours. Men is doorgeslagen zonder dialectisch geweten, liefst zonder te zweten zich rijk gaan rekenen en dus gaan rekening rijden en de mercantielen en Tech AI aanbieders grazen en oogsten door uw domheid gretig voort want u die melkend aan de koe haar memmen tartte is zelf al lang tot slaafse melkkoe geworden!
...
Beneath our feet, a hidden sea,
Where water waits, wild and free.
Fills empty spaces in the ground,
In soil and rock, it can be found.
...
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.
...
Beautiful is the 'thank you'
Wrapped with gratitude,
Offered to peace prone people
Who offer what is real-themselves
...
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
...
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—
...