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;
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:
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.
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
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.
O raise those eyes to me again
And smile again so joyously,
And fear not, love; it was not pain
Nor grief that drew these tears from me;
Beloved child, thou canst not tell
The thoughts that in my bosom dwell
Whene'er I look on thee!
Thou knowest not that a glance of thine
Can bring back long departed years
And that thy blue eyes' magic shine
Can overflow my own with tears,
And that each feature soft and fair
And every curl of golden hair,
Some sweet remembrance bears.
Just then thou didst recall to me
A distant long forgotten scene,
One smile, and one sweet word from thee
Dispelled the years that rolled between;
I was a little child again,
And every after joy and pain
Seemed never to have been.
Unfunny uncles who insist
in trying on a lady's hat,
--oh, even if the joke falls flat,
we share your slight transvestite twist
in spite of our embarrassment.
Costume and custom are complex.
The headgear of the other sex
inspires us to experiment.
A faded rose from days gone by
Lay within the pages of her favorite book.
Tear drops stain the weathered paper
Memories of a past long since gone.
She softly whispers "I miss you ".
As her fingers slowly trace
The letters on the marble stone.
A faint smile on her face.
The stigma of poverty is like coal dust.
Cling to us no soap can clean away
When I am alone and
In a thoughtful mood
I feel so homesick
For the verdant green
Sometimes I have to
Throw away the mask I
Wear and come out open
Before the people who
Without something, how can there be some other thing to think, say and do?
Hunger makes us to eat, urge makes as to do something and inspiration kindles to do;
Sans eating food, energy level cannot be maintained to generate power to do all things;
That is why, nothing will come out of nothing as all are connect as chain in the world!
Tension Free Life - 2
March 20, 2023
Doing duty, responsibility in time
March 20, 2023
Mind, do good
By Stanley Collymore
Charles at 74 years of age
himself is mourning on
He walked in with a grin
as wide as the ginger cat
far from the hidden bin
by himself is where he sat
A pyramid of blunder
Stone upon stone
Blocking the light that shone
superposition of reality
light and darkness and dawn and night and noon and born free in dreamland of imagination, postimagination, reality, post-reality, truth, post-truth beauty of the sun, the moon and the truth.
a silent yellow chair
yellow mesdow of flowers
these things come to light after many winters
Orpheus, looking back in perpetual gloom
Persephone and the strangest blue flower
sealing a certain period of doom.
Your presence is near
I wish you were here
is the true
of one's soul.
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....
My pan head
Mine you are
And Yours I am
He was before his beloved,
Kneeling on his thighs……..
His shoulders were down,
With his soulful cries…….
Poetry is sexy
Its lyrics aim to please
As most Nigerians remain ruefully lukewarm
about President Buhari's second term bid;
an ever-increasing multitude of potential
voters across ethnic divides, seem to be
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—