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;
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.
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.
Waking up at midnight
in a room without a view,
taking up a book, you find
no pages to look through.
You bang upon the bleak grey walls
that bound your tiny room,
but Echo is the only friend
that answers through the gloom.
“How did it ever come to this? ”
you ask yourself in pain -
but cannot even hear your voice
for endless driving rain.
You yourself built this heartless space
from mortar and hard bricks
to guard against a cruel world,
to kick against the pricks.
Now, in this bed you’ve made, you lie
as evermore you must,
until your life shall pass away
and crumble into dust.
Too late you find that this our world
can never be shut out
except by sentencing your soul
to dark eternal drought.
I make a pact with you, Walt Whitman -
I have detested you long enough.
I come to you as a grown child
Who has had a pig-headed father;
I am old enough now to make friends.
It was you that broke the new wood,
Now is a time for carving.
We have one sap and one root -
Let there be commerce between us.
There is much more to life
Than just to watch, it diminishes away
Life's ordains, for everyone to enjoy it rightly
Mingles with much love, and the best of fun
A life, lives without fun, can becomes very dull
There is much more to life
Although, any sort of life, is better than no life
Since it's says, once there is life, there is hope
Despite its hardship, lives it well, before it ends
I don't hate you for what you did to me
I don't hate you said the fallen tree,
And as I lie here now on the ground
Remember this, you did not hear me hate you with any sound.
I am glad that I never ended up with her
I am so glad that future never did occur,
Though I always enjoyed her being at my side
But, I knew that soon would come the tide.
We should not abandon life in the face of suffering and grief—we can overcome such if we set our hearts on love, beauty and meaning which are eternal values. Once having cultivated these in our heart, they are ours; our very own, to be known or felt by none other except ourselves and as such, can never be taken away from us. It is as though, in our love and adoration of the highest and most sublime sentiments, we somehow rise to a mysterious emotional and ‘spiritual' understanding beyond ourselves. If so, we should not rail at destiny nor be bitter — we have had our happy moments, which we knew all along would not be permanent states of existence, and should be humble enough to accept what subsequently follows. To have known love and have dwelt within it is enough blessing for such could have been denied to the less fortunate. We might even say to ourselves: we have been more fortunate than many others....
Extracted from my
IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF ZEN-
'How can I fool you?
Let me count
The ways, '
Désolé, nous avons utilisé la nature comme carte de crédit
sans limite de dépenses
Caged Blue Birds
Once engulfed by man's into a woman's
the story of encasement begins.
To accept the uncertainty
was a mortal pain. Between life and death
there was a neutral god.
Truth appears no examination
Above us, stars. Beneath us, constellations.
Five billion miles away, a galaxy dies
like a snowflake falling on water. Below us,
some farmer, feeling the chill of that distant death,
Your presence is near
I wish you were here
Buffalo Bill opens a pawn shop on the reservation
right across the border from the liquor store
and he stays open 24 hours a day,7 days a week
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....
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.
He was before his beloved,
Kneeling on his thighs……..
His shoulders were down,
With his soulful cries…….
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
TO AMARANTHA; THAT SHE WOULD DISHEVELL HER HAIRE.
Amarantha sweet and faire,
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.