It was a long time ago.
I have almost forgotten my dream.
But it was there then,
In front of me,
Bright like a sun—
And then the wall rose,
Between me and my dream.
Rose until it touched the sky—
I am black.
I lie down in the shadow.
No longer the light of my dream before me,
Only the thick wall.
Only the shadow.
My dark hands!
Break through the wall!
Find my dream!
Help me to shatter this darkness,
To smash this night,
To break this shadow
Into a thousand lights of sun,
Into a thousand whirling dreams
Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death
When I'm 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
Of all human relationships, friendship gives real consolation and encouragement ever;
In the modern world, friendship has become international culture for real progress;
Friendship beyond all nations, races and religions is indeed mark of real civilization;
Only in good friendship, there is no secret, jealousy, revenge and betrayal in world life!
Friendship fosters team work to success as all are equal and see no differences;
As this relationship is sustaining beyond borders, it's the best international culture
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.
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.
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
Pleasure of being together
Smell of curries
Sound of plates
Shallow eyes to want me
Shallow eyes for lust
Shallow eyes to bring me closer
Shallow eyes of trust
for Spruce Hill Farm, Keene, NY
the tactility of the spider
(for Shelly & Judi)
white bread we used to call them—
Take me to places where ugly the rose
For flowers there more beautiful in look.
Where`s dirt to wear with golden threads silk clothes
For garments there with better them to hook.
To the lotto gods I pray
Give me a lotto win today
I beseech, entreat and I beg
I pray to you upon one leg
Without you I am nothing, Lord Jesus
Soul loose upon the wind without direction
Blown and buffeted by fierce purple storms
With no purpose or truth to follow.
Give me time to know
Everything about love,
Both in day‘s high and low
Even with gray clouds above.
The low lands call
I am tempted to answer
They are offering me a free dwelling
Without having to conquer
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 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:
Beautiful is the 'thank you'
Wrapped with gratitude,
Offered to peace prone people
Who offer what is real-themselves
No earthquake, no thunder, no volcanic eruption
Or even there was not any of other natural calamities,
A sudden loud sound broke out all through the bush
With whizzing, shuddering, cracking, tearing, echoing,
If you die before me
I would jump down into your grave
and hug you so innocently
that angels will become jealous.
Sweet moment, stay with me,
and pray do not flee so soon,
Let me enjoy the bliss of that
first kiss beneath the moon.
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.