She's gone -- and twice the summer's sun
Has gilt Regina's towers,
And melted wild Angora's snows,
And warmed Exina's bowers.
The flowerets twice on hill and dale
Have bloomed and died away,
And twice the rustling forest leaves
Have fallen to decay,
And thrice stern winter's icy hand
Has checked the river's flow,
And three times o'er the mountains thrown
His spotless robe of snow.
Two summers springs and autumns sad
Three winters cold and grey --
And is it then so long ago
That wild November day!
They say such tears as children weep
Will soon be dried away,
That childish grief however strong
Is only for a day,
And parted friends how dear soe'er
Will soon forgotten be;
It may be so with other hearts,
It is not thus with me.
My mother, thou wilt weep no more
The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.
You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
Another night I stay up
I stay clear of my darling Kamran
I read through my heart beat
It says It is better I be far away from you than be near you
For a short time
I'm not ok and I fear that lose you
I try to go blank my past
I breath in and out for you
I get bogged down in your eyes
Please learn these words by your heart
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
Sitting alone in this room
Having only a glimpse of the silent moon
I lay awake, thinking
Watching the stars in the city, blinking
To get away from difficulties and worries of the world many seek relief
In smoking, drinking, sex and gambling anywhere possible with company;
Chain smoking or taking drugs leads one to heart attack to end life;
Drunkards die all the long from morning till night before lying on the streets!
Welcome to the haunting
A world filled with lies and fears
Fazed hearts and broken dreams
Feeling of terror in myself, like it's a part of me
I'm at the station waiting for the train
Then I'm off on the very next plane,
I'm so excited for my very next view
If only you truly knew.
If more christians had listened to Jesus
They wouldn't be that hateful or uncaring or grievous,
They would always have an opened hand
To help feed the poor or to help them stand,
Today it is my birthday
So, I will give myself a big hooray,
I am another year older
And now I am a AARP card holder.
I am prepared to pay for my sins
But, like tickets they were all tossed in bins,
I have paid for every ticket ever received
Then my violation was forgiven, I believed.
I've heard a lot of your myths,
heeded enough to your advice,
sick and tired of you ever being shrewd.
I've had enough!
Faking a soul from which is lost
The years of abuse have taken it as cost
Days I feel hollow and barely real
No sign of happiness in which to feel
It has been long time I struggle with idealism
It was never ended
I confessed I was still in that situation—empiricism
Plato, Elea dan Hegel, Emanuel Kant, David Hume, Al Ghazali had taught that point of view never ended
In a short while you'll venture high above
Because this world has ceased to be your lot
And on your grave I'll plant with care and love
A small blue flower of forget-me-not.
Have I Got Reason
Have I got reason to praise Him?
You betcha praise God I have
The low lands call
I am tempted to answer
They are offering me a free dwelling
Without having to conquer
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 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:
If you die before me
I would jump down into your grave
and hug you so innocently
that angels will become jealous.
As you see universally
There is a great fall
Let love stretch its hands being universal
To love and teach us to love all,
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.