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.
If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee.
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole Mines of gold
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompetence.
Thy love is such I can no way repay.
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let's so persever
That when we live no more, we may live ever.
Lay my rifle here beside me, set my Bible on my breast,
For a moment let the warning bugles cease;
As the century is closing I am going to my rest,
Lord, lettest Thou Thy servant go in peace.
But loud through all the bugles rings a cadence in mine ear,
And on the winds my hopes of peace are strowed.
Those winds that waft the voices that already I can hear
Of the rooi-baatjes singing on the road.
Yes, the red-coats are returning, I can hear the steady tramp,
My Highest Gratitude
Is never in solitude
wonder what this day would bring
sure, this my person uttered,
after my daily devoty
whatever it may be,
I'll always be grateful to Thee
अगर आप किसी को अच्छा बोलेंगें, आप को लोग सही बताएँगे।
अगर आप किसी को बुरा बोलेंगें, आप को लोग गलत बताएँगे।
जिसके पक्ष में या खिलाफ आप बता रहे हैं, उसको कुछ फर्क नहीं पड़ता।
The cold expanse of the world we'd dare,
But at heart, no compass could compare
To your soul, a beacon shining rare.
You are home, the music in the air,
I was a perky lost and found coordinator, reuniting people with possessions,
As pink-orange, diamond sunset rejoins us, reminiscing sunrise impressions.
I liked blithe smiles of pleasure and relief, at reclaiming what was once lost,
No hoax. I am dating
myself. The body displays the
culture, a suicidal dharma.
Lying in bed,
Engulfed in threads of the blanket,
I close my eyes,
To picturize, the adventures dead and buried,
On a spring day, the river flows blue, and the cliff is high. Like passed dates,
On the Tangeumdae, as if the sound of the gayageum playing resonates.
The eight thousand rancored souls. Now, where they're resting.
As if knowing the ancient history. A bird is wandering and weeping.
Slipping, as pain-free
A grassed buzz, under
Woke sense, living consciousness.
Reflected, no less cruder
In pool of water.
Not that we, still green and fresh
Could, its leaf, dredge up!
With your dropped person is
This hefty bundle
Tense-tied, now loosened. And for
What did stoop a pained back, more
The forgotten one
Owe's what heart the price
Of countless tears, for what's missed?
Some debts, though, are nice!
A daisy-faced sky. Of all
The most trustful lit, so leant
In its cheerfulness.
A debate was squatted on the
face of my neighbours.
Wronged their simplicity hearts
They went out from the
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....
Poetry is sexy
Its lyrics aim to please
............sitting here in the stillness
...............staring out the window
...at darkness my friend and my foe.
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…….
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
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—