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.
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:
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;
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
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.
From the Spanish of Pedro Calderon de la Barca
A dream it was in which I found myself.
And you that hail me now, then hailed me king,
In a brave palace that was all my own,
Within, and all without it, mine; until,
Drunk with excess of majesty and pride,
Methought I towered so big and swelled so wide
That of myself I burst the glittering bubble
Which my ambition had about me blown,
And all again was darkness. Such a dream
As this, in which I may be walking now,
Dispensing solemn justice to you shadows,
Who make believe to listen; but anon
Kings, princes, captains, warriors, plume and steel,
Aye, even with all your airy theatre,
May flit into the air you seem to rend
With acclamations, leaving me to wake
In the dark tower; or dreaming that I wake
From this that waking is; or this and that,
Both waking and both dreaming; such a doubt
Confounds and clouds our moral life about.
But whether wake or dreaming, this I know,
How dreamwise human glories come and go;
Whose momentary tenure not to break,
Walking as one who knows he soon may wake,
So fairly carry the full cup, so well
Disordered insolence and passion quell,
That there be nothing after to upbraid
When love was a question, the message arrived
in the beak of a wire and plaster bird. The coloratura
was hardly to be believed. For flight,
it took three stagehands: two
on the pulleys and one on the flute. And you
thought fancy rained like grace.
Our fog machine lost in the Parcel Post, we improvised
with smoke. The heroine dies of tuberculosis after all.
I have found myself to wonder
Will my dark dreams tear me asunder
What be it that causes this burning in my soul
And no matter what it be will it take it's toll
Through my madness and pain I hear a call
The sweet and serene voice that will bring my fall
Once more now I do return
Whenever feel I disturbed,
Repose I in silence
Seeking for a refuge in,
Escaping from worldliness,
Thursday morning, August 11,2022 at 11: 02 a.m.
John, you are a bad liar.
There is no other way of putting it.
begun Tuesday morning, June 26,2018 at 10: 20 a.m.; continued several times thereafter, including today, Wednesday, August 3,2022
Note: John Owens is a Canadian writer of short stories, historical novels and detective fiction. He is the author of The Sixth String, published in 2013, a historical novel on the holocaust, its aftermath—the fictional story of the hunting down of Dr. Josef Mengele, the infamous Angel of Death, by a gypsy flamenco guitar player. I have known John Owens since August of 1976 when we taught English at Hawksbill High School in Freeport, Bahamas, one of the largest public high schools in the Commonwealth of the Bahamas. We also played soccer together for a German firm, Beck's Beer Company soccer club, at Freeport Rugby Club, and played a lot of tennis matches against one another at the Freeport Racket and Squash Club. Freeport is the Bahamas second largest city, after Nassau, located about 90 miles east across the ocean strait from West Palm Beach, Florida.
begun Tuesday night, September 12,2017; completed Friday morning, July 29,2022; updated Thursday morning, August 11,2022
--for my friend Amanda Onofrio
I have been very much impolite and uncouth;
My harsh words have wounded many a delicate heart;
Indelible brands have I stamped on innocent hearts;
Love cannot be won by terror and hate, I didn't know;
In the dark recesses
Of such a shattered mind
Shines a bright light
Ever so faint
Through my balcony
There a stretch of moonlight
So inviting to step into
I saw the beautiful golden Moon as I stepped forward
He's a dumb lump
With a big rump
He's got squirrelly hair
Nuts with crazy stare
(Stage Opens) .
Common Man - Exuberant Emotions Await to Come as to Celebrate the Seventy Fifth Independence day I Anticipate Celebrations
In Huge Sum.
'A watched pot never boils'
The Kerouac Project
Has not, and is not, dead
Overlooking the bay of Naples, love and romance. Stepping out on the floor we are dancing in the moonlight. Summertime breeze heavenly music. Living in a dream, longing for your kiss. Lovely tender moments.
Michael Cochrane © 2022
Would you for me
Taste my greatness
Reach my kind soul
Above us, stars. Beneath us, constellations.
Five billion miles away, a galaxy dies
like a snowflake falling on water. Below us,
some farmer, feeling the chill of that distant death,
Buffalo Bill opens a pawn shop on the reservation
right across the border from the liquor store
and he stays open 24 hours a day,7 days a week
Your presence is near
I wish you were here
1. Take a shower you don't want to smell.
2. Pick out an outfit that will blend in with the latest trends and won't make you a laughing stock of the school more than you already are
3. Put on some makeup so you can't even recognize yourself and your face tingles with an unbelievable issue. You can't satisfy otherwise you'll have ruined the hours of meticulous painting you apply to your face.
I will never forget you my dearest soulmate..
these old meomries will never fade...
you've always laid me in your shade...
whenever I trembled or felt afraid....
He was before his beloved,
Kneeling on his thighs……..
His shoulders were down,
With his soulful cries…….
Il pleuvait sans cesse sur Brest ce jour-là
Et tu marchais souriante
Épanouie ravie ruisselante
TO AMARANTHA; THAT SHE WOULD DISHEVELL HER HAIRE.
Amarantha sweet and faire,
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.