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;
...
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.
...
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
...
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.
for Michael Longley
As a child, they could not keep me from wells
And old pumps with buckets and windlasses.
I loved the dark drop, the trapped sky, the smells
Of waterweed, fungus and dank moss.
One, in a brickyard, with a rotted board top.
I savoured the rich crash when a bucket
Plummeted down at the end of a rope.
So deep you saw no reflection in it.
A shallow one under a dry stone ditch
Fructified like any aquarium.
When you dragged out long roots from the soft mulch
A white face hovered over the bottom.
Others had echoes, gave back your own call
With a clean new music in it. And one
Was scaresome, for there, out of ferns and tall
Foxgloves, a rat slapped across my reflection.
Now, to pry into roots, to finger slime,
To stare, big-eyed Narcissus, into some spring
Is beneath all adult dignity. I rhyme
To see myself, to set the darkness echoing.
...
These fine days have been my ruin.
On this kind of day I resigned
My job in 'Pious Foundations'
On this kind of day I started to smoke
On this kind of day I fell in love
On this kind of day I forgot
To bring home bread and salt
On this kind of day I had a relapse
Into my versifying disease.
These fine days have been my ruin.
...
Sometimes silence is my best friend,
It often comes to my aid,
Birds chirp sweetly round the bend,
The sun blazes bright, unswayed.
I love this kind of calm retreat,
When you sit still, so do I,
Slowly, gently, with care so sweet,
Stroking petals passing by.
I wish to speak with the world I know,
Where I live in such serene delight,
...
Sometimes I think.....
You are the best creation
Of this world,
Sometimes I think....
...
Siluetat e mia të vetmisë,
Fergellojne, tronditen, perflaken.
...
জয় শিবের জয়
জয় মহাদেবের জয়
জয় শঙ্করের জয়
জয় বিশ্বেশের জয়
...
What is happening, and what is the truth in today's ever-evolving world today?
The media broadcast only information of doom and gloom with clouds of gray.
Telecasting the news which simply means never ever winners over a smart device called a television which means telling lies to your vision.
Wake up and meditate on creating your own world and do the research in order to make your own intelligent decision.
...
Not born of flesh, nor shaped by fate,
Superheroes stand where the worlds vibrate.
Their stories dance on the winds of lore,
Boundless echoes forevermore.
...
In the quiet rift where worlds collide,
A whisper stirs, timeless and unrefined.
Not flesh nor stone, but shadows that breathe,
A pulse that dances beneath what we perceive.
...
That night, the fireflies lit the air,
Their glow was everywhere, yet I didn't care. Unnoticed, they sparkled in silent flight,
Until the streetlights dimmed their harsh light.
Only then did their beauty find my sight.
...
Hundred thoughts of Sandip Goswami
1. Truth-Seekers
'Scientists and poets share one trait - bot truth.'
...
Between who I am and who I am to be,
There's a silent pull, a grace I see
A rhythm held in the greatness I seek,
Where faith whispers softly, steady and meek.
...
Neither falling in love nor in love with her,
A stranger to longing, yet lost in a blur.
Her voice, a whisper the wind carries near,
But my heart stands still, untouched by fear.
...
In the belly of a steel-bound ship,
I scurry through the starlight's grip.
Not a king, not a god, nor cat—
Just a dream-chasing, floating Space Rat.
...
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 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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4/18/2025 1:27:34 AM # 1.0.0
