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
I want you to know
You know how this is:
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.
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;
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.
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.
THE CHANCELLOR mused as he nibbled his pen
(Sure no Minister ever looked wiser),
And said, “I can summon a million of men
To fight for their country and Kaiser;
“While that shallow charlatan ruling o’er France,
Who deems himself deeper than Merlin,
Thinks he and his soldiers have only to dance
To the tune of the Can-can to Berlin.
“But as soon as he gets to the bank of the Rhine,
He’ll be met by the great German army.”
Then the Chancellor laughed, and he said, “I will dine,
For I see nothing much to alarm me.”
Yet still as he went out he paused by the door
(For his mind was in truth heavy laden),
And he saw a stout fellow, equipped for the war,
Embracing a fair-haired young maiden.
“Ho! ho!” said the Chancellor, “this will not do,
For Mars to be toying with Venus,
When these Frenchmen are coming—a rascally crew!—
And the Rhine only flowing between us.”
So the wary old fox, just in order to hear,
Strode one or two huge paces nearer;
And he heard the youth say, “More than life art thou dear;
But, O loved one, the Fatherland’s dearer.”
Evening is part of the jig-saw truth of her,
ply-wood ply-flesh, her insolent reply
blinding the ace with a straight shot to centre,
the woman's a delicate devil in twenty places
blander and blonder, tinder tenderly
setting the smiles on fire in men's faces.
On any evening gets you ready for dark
swathes and saves you for the magic carpet
spirits you anywhere anytime anyhow
The only wonder i never know,
Is her undying love for everyone;
The only friend i failed to trust,
Was kitara our happy and peaceful dog.
She'd hit me with a dancing tail;
With all joy, she'd jumped out for a hug
And would give me a cold kiss in the leg.
Yet i would kicked her like a dirt-bag.
We all face moments of decision in our lives…when we might feel alone…
as if stranded on a sandbar….
Where what we choose to do in those moments…for those moments…
determine who we are.
As it twirls and swirls and glides,
the crowds gather and their hearts collide,
cheers erupt with every stomp and beat,
this dragon dance is quite a feat.
The Appreciation of the Poem Palace Concerto
I don't think I need my glasses
Though, I am often reminded to put them on
One day, I didn't wear them for most of that day
And didn't feel a thing
Godhead from our Clay
What sudden arrow from the bow of God
Has pierced so deep this dense unknowing breast,
Late evening light
shadows soon to cast on trees
o'er hills silence broods
mountains high and grand,
valleys low and serene stand,
river flows between.
In a dream, I went back to my childhood
My favoriteThursday and Saturday lunch
I had an extra and half meal
All my lovely toys were put in front of me
We all have dreams of becoming a better poet,
But if being who you are makes you happy,
Just let the words flow,
Let your mind show your true self.
And I'll love her,
While the moon shines,
Cause some things never change,
Some things never change,
Left the world on his own will,
Hanging on the rope, dead and still
A person lost his life by his choice
This is story of a person who lost his voice
i first saw you, within the realm of earth the usual
the everyday, the uncool the work related
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…….
............sitting here in the stillness
...............staring out the window
...at darkness my friend and my foe.
Poetry is sexy
Its lyrics aim to please
My pan head
Mine you are
And Yours I am
I was like a withered flower in a barren desert,
till I breathed your smile that brought life to my heart.
I was like a homeless child looking for a shelter.
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 -
"Faith" is a fine invention
When Gentlemen can see—