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.
I ask for a moment's indulgence to sit by thy side. The works
that I have in hand I will finish afterwards.
Away from the sight of thy face my heart knows no rest nor respite,
and my work becomes an endless toil in a shoreless sea of toil.
Today the summer has come at my window with its sighs and murmurs; and
the bees are plying their minstrelsy at the court of the flowering grove.
Now it is time to sit quite, face to face with thee, and to sing
dedication of life in this silent and overflowing leisure.
How do the winter moths survive when other moths die? What enables them to avoid freezing as they rest, and what makes it possible for them to fly -- and so to seek food and mates -- in the cold?
Bernd Heinrich, Scientific American
1. The Himalayas
The room lies there, immaculate, bone light
on white walls, shell-pink carpet, and pale, too,
are the wrists and hands of professors gathered
in the outer hall where behind darkness
and a mirror they can observe unseen.
Who wrote the lyrics and where are they?
I enjoy the rhymes, which are like pearls on a necklace.
Every word has its own melody,
just like the waves of the ocean.
Will it find its way to a lover's heart?
Will it comfort and ease the sufferer's pain?
I set each word to music,
like the seven colors of the rainbow.
Oh, I missed something!
A period can change the meaning of a sentence.
Sentence one: Twelve-year-old Jenny was surprised by the sudden appearance of her grandmother
Love is a flame that burns so bright,
It fills us with joy and delight,
But as time passes on and on,
It often leaves us feeling alone.
In the land of Ajira,
There sat an island so serene,
But fate had other plans,
For a glacier lurking unseen.
If love is a sin, then I will go to hell
With a smile on my face and a story to tell
For I have loved deeply and with all my heart
And it's worth any punishment that may impart
Does true love exist, or is it just a dream?
A fairytale story, nothing is as it seems
We search for that spark, that ignites our soul
But does it really exist, or is it just a goal?
In a world adorned with friendship's grace,
There stands a soul, Bri Edwards, with embrace.
With a heart as gentle as the morning dew,
A loyal friend, steadfast and true.
In a garden green, where shadows creep,
Where secrets linger and sorrows seep,
There stood a tree, its branches wide,
But hidden within, a poison resides.
In deepest shadows, where despair resides,
A solemn tale unfolds, where pain collides.
A poem of sorrow, heavy on my chest,
With trembling words, I'll attempt my best.
In pride's embrace, a dangerous plight,
Its venomous grip, a blinding light,
An ego bloated, consuming the soul,
Leaving behind a heart bitter and cold.
What dosnt Show
gotta be Somewhere.
What doesn't know
Softly our eyes lock,
United in expressions;
Eyes say everything.
I want to wash my face.
but I got no reson
I want to wife my tears. but for What person?
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....
............sitting here in the stillness
...............staring out the window
...at darkness my friend and my foe.
Poetry is sexy
Its lyrics aim to please
He was before his beloved,
Kneeling on his thighs……..
His shoulders were down,
With his soulful cries…….
anger is not love
anger is driking
anger is killing someone
anger one thing never do
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—