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;
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:
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.
WHO nearer Nature’s life would truly come
Must nearest come to him of whom I speak;
He all kinds knew,—the vocal and the dumb;
Masterful in genius was he, and unique,
Patient, sagacious, tender, frolicsome.
This Concord Pan would oft his whistle take,
And forth from wood and fen, field, hill, and lake,
Trooping around him in their several guise,
The shy inhabitants their haunts forsake:
Then he, like Æsop, man would satirize,
Hold up the image wild to clearest view
Of undiscerning manhood’s puzzled eyes,
And mocking say, “Lo! mirrors here for you:
Be true as these, if ye would be more wise.”
Billie Holiday's burned voice
had as many shadows as lights,
a mournful candelabra against a sleek piano,
the gardenia her signature under that ruined face.
(Now you're cooking, drummer to bass,
magic spoon, magic needle.
Take all day if you have to
with your mirror and your bracelet of song.)
Fact is, the invention of women under siege
Sometime I wish I had a piano
In a long list of wishes may be another addition
Or if my pen was a piano key
On lazy afternoons of summer
When touched softly
Its music would break the silence of this room
The languid humming of air conditioner
Would mellow in its sweet sound
The colors esoteric in nature
Ascending through air reaching to empyrean
Ran the wheel of her progress
For the brains that let it run
Never turned back
By Stanley Collymore
The Daily Mail is an absolute
joke; but that's really hardly
And fell the withered Autumn leaf
The last one, the once blissful
Edifying the world
The arrows would miss the Finn
And would let go a silent prayer,
Loud enough to echo thunder
For neither the wolf nor the nature, but the bulls
Two storeyed houses
Churning multiple stories
To the viewers
God in pages
The words you're about to read are part of an ongoing elegy that began in 1999
after 12 students and one teacher were killed in the halls of Columbine.
environmental awareness of discursive poetics with compassionate mind and goodwill for imposdible simplicity is on the road to poetry of the postcontemporary
future and nowness of poetry is in simplicity and in honesty through creative-uncreative-decreative-compositional-decompositional-and-intuitive mindfulness meditions
I make a wish, each leaf that falls
that we'll stay golden after all
though rude winds blow the stars away
that we'll keep shining anyway
When my mouth the truth of my heart speaks,
Some say say behind their fingures, 'There lies the liar! '
When from toil I retire recumbent but healthy,
They say before the draperies, 'There lies him sick! '
there should be hidden panels in the dress
with embroideries of traceries of the most cherished flowers
and when she began to dance they bloomed
with slippers to match to a music box tune
apple polishers ruled the land;
we were in a termless school
eating only mystery gruel
with homework assignments
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....
Poetry is sexy
Its lyrics aim to please
My pan head
Mine you are
And Yours I am
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.
He was before his beloved,
Kneeling on his thighs……..
His shoulders were down,
With his soulful cries…….
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—