Poems
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.
? or John Fletcher.
ORPHEUS with his lute made trees
And the mountain tops that freeze
Bow themselves when he did sing:
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung; as sun and showers
There had made a lasting spring.
Every thing that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,
Hung their heads and then lay by.
In sweet music is such art,
Killing care and grief of heart
Fall asleep, or hearing, die.
...
Give me your hand
Make room for me
to lead and follow
you
beyond this rage of poetry.
Let others have
the privacy of
touching words
...
The ship is afloat
The hour strikes
Water ripples beneath
The sky is clear
let us secretly steer
The captain, his crew
The planets and stars
Moon is yet to arrive
The sky is palest of blue
...
On silver wings you'll see him sail
with eagle's claw and falcon's tail
On atomic rockets he will stride
...
And when the day is over… they will come home… and say
Look-- the wind was here
Do you not see how the things upon this table have been moved
...
I face an uphill battle--
each time I go to war
I hear the sabers' rattle…
I fear the cannon's roar
...
He might have died during that first day
Maybe it was he who was the first casualty,
killed on the battlefield--
by the very shot heard 'round the world…
...
That's what they said--
in whispers, they spoke-- soft, and low
Hearing their voices inside my head
...
How to harpoon a beached whale?
Lying on its side, blow hole gasping.
He is near, harpoon raised!
...
Our time doesn't register,
in others' chimes. Uniquely,
marching out of tune, we
listen intently for ours. Not
...
Indistinctly, he heard a voice,
it came nearer to his deaf ear.
You! It shouted. Looking askance
his worried look was for all to see.
...
The first sensation that he felt
was a wall of real, searing pain,
that lasted an eternity,
until it was etched in his brain.
...
He panted, chased by a lion,
his pants fell down. Over he
went in the jungle he created.
Said lion bounded on. Wasn't
...
Out the door of reality into
a store. Full of certificates
galore. Everything Mr. Doolittle
adored. A Noble Laureate of
...
THE Obvious O Poets
Enjoy cold Ice Cream
Ice Creams are cold
...
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