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.
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:
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.
Child, child, love while you can
The voice and the eyes and the soul of a man,
Never fear though it break your heart -
Out of the wound new joy will start;
Only love proudly and gladly and well
Though love be heaven or love be hell.
Child, child, love while you may,
For life is short as a happy day;
Never fear the thing you feel -
Only by love is life made real;
Love, for the deadly sins are seven,
Only through love will you enter heaven.
While you walk the water's edge,
turning over concepts
I can't envision, the honking buoy
serves notice that at any time
the wind may change,
the reef-bell clatters
its treble monotone, deaf as Cassandra
to any note but warning. The ocean,
cumbered by no business more urgent
than keeping open old accounts
Dream the wind over ancient bones
sounds of a woman as she moans
in tears that fall like weighted stones
through the ghost of a haunted night.
Hear the heart as it breaks in two
whose branches distil drops of dew.
Soft feathers fell and never flew
like a moth in the candlelight.
You get to the tree
And find the apple's been picked
Story of my life….
Sudden South West monsoon rain like a bolt from the blue hit the town at sunset;
Everywhere dry lands and ponds empty of water is waiting for this great rain;
Water with energy from Sun and fertile soil for agriculture give live all in the world;
Without water, where is life in the world to live a good and tolerable life ever?
A few of the castle gate and the portion of walls, barley they're remained,
The shade of summer trees grows thicker, the traces of the moat, are drained
And vanished. The old vills and hills, even their old names're disappearing.
From afar, a bird flies and perches on branch, and it's deploring and chirping.
Have I reached thee?
I don't know,
But you have already reached me,
This is sure
Sunday morning, June 4, 2023 at 9: 45 a.m.; Monday morning, June 5, 2023 at 8: 25 a.m. and 8: 50 a.m.
"Broken ice still melts in the sun and ties
that are broken can often be one again;
Having said it
He is swallowing up
To the neck level!
By Stanley Collymore
Personally I prefer to call
and always think of you
At a single stroke
All lost at Bahanaga
And all they ended up
By Stanley Collymore
A Republican congressman
Doesn't want a Democrat
There in Bahanaga
Small clouds create rain,
There in trains collision
Small tales create love.
There at Bahanaga
I saw the lady moon in sky
She peeped in lakes and float on high
She perched on softish throne of gales
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
My pan head
Mine you are
And Yours I am
He was before his beloved,
Kneeling on his thighs……..
His shoulders were down,
With his soulful cries…….
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—