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
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.
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.
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:
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.
THE silver trumpets rang across the Dome:
The people knelt upon the ground with awe:
And borne upon the necks of men I saw,
Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome.
Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam,
And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red,
Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head:
In splendour and in light the Pope passed home.
My heart stole back across wide wastes of years
To One who wandered by a lonely sea,
And sought in vain for any place of rest:
'Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest,
I, only I, must wander wearily,
And bruise my feet, and drink wine salt with tears.'
She plucked a blossom fair to see;
Upon my coat I let her pin it;
And thus we stood beneath the tree
She turned her smiling face to me;
I saw a roguish sweetness in it;
I kissed her once;—it took, maybe,
In this world of ours, where love should reign,
We find ourselves mired in hate and pain.
The scars of war and violence still remain,
A legacy of strife and endless strain.
But we are the best of humanity, you see,
With hearts that yearn for peace and unity.
We've had enough of blood and misery,
And long to build a world that's free from fear and anxiety.
Is not British English,
King's or Queen's English,
It is of the States,
it's an endless void of emptiness
in a starkness filled with play
it's a synonym of every dream
in an antonym yet to try
to Claude Debussy
clouds have fallen into the waters
will their mamas rescue them?
My doctor said I had to lose
200 pounds of ugly fat.
What method could I ever chose
to accomplish such a goal as that?
into human terms
that we can understand
Obverts the beauty
I have already written in detail about the two monsoons that irrigate our crops. Now I am going to write about the two springs in Kerala, that make our lives fragrant.
Up in Ohio the Republicans all say
A husband can now rape his wife on any day,
No matter how much that she screams and shouts, "NO! "
An Ohio wife must now allow that sickness and woe.
This write up of memories published on PoemHunter by me, has been deactivated by PoemHunter Administration allegedly because the article violates their rules. I have not written anything objectionable here. Can anyone please tell me why my article was deactivated?
Friday morning, December 1, 2023 at 10: 20 a.m.,10: 48 a.m.11: 10 a.m. and 11: 31 a.m.
Make no mistake—the police are perverse, salacious,
salivary, unscrupulous, will do anything, anything to win,
SHEILA & CLIFFORD: 'BOOK' 19....[ a continuing story of two humans, .. in a series of story-poems ]
In the absence
You left behind
If you die before me
I would jump down into your grave
and hug you so innocently
that angels will become jealous.
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 low lands call
I am tempted to answer
They are offering me a free dwelling
Without having to conquer
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:
(This is a composition in Pilipino Language the first one I did, the only one, and hope some of the Filipinos will get this funny poem in this site. The poem is updated with English translation)
Noong taong otsenta dekada
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 -