Poems
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
...
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.
Where the acorn tumbles down,
Where the ash tree sheds its berry,
With your fur so soft and brown,
With your eye so round and merry,
Scarcely moving the long grass,
Fieldmouse, I can see you pass.
Little thing, in what dark den,
Lie you all the winter sleeping?
Till warm weather comes again,
Then once more I see you peeping
Round about the tall tree roots,
Nibbling at their fallen fruits.
Fieldmouse, fieldmouse, do not go,
Where the farmer stacks his treasure,
Find the nut that falls below,
Eat the acorn at your pleasure,
But you must not steal the grain
He has stacked with so much pain.
Make your hole where mosses spring,
Underneath the tall oak's shadow,
Pretty, quiet harmless thing,
Play about the sunny meadow.
Keep away from corn and house,
None will harm you, little mouse.
...
'No animal is half as vile
As Crocky-Wock, the crocodile.
On Saturdays he likes to crunch
Six juicy children for his lunch
And he especially enjoys
Just three of each, three girls, three boys.
He smears the boys (to make them hot)
With mustard from the mustard pot.
But mustard doesn't go with girls,
It tastes all wrong with plaits and curls.
...
The blue sky stretches far across the tepid marshland.
A delicate amethyst which surrounds the crouching sun
signals every cloud to it's place along the horizon.
She stands focused on the beauty of this days' decay,
as a calm descends upon her with the weight of a falling star.
She has found her peace in the flushing quiet that has consumed her mind.
I envy the setting sun as it marvels her eyes.
For I have spent the eternity that is often young love
...
one sure thing—
poor folk can tolerate rain.
you never see a well-heeled dude
...
on what is to become my final visit
to this sanitarium garden
i find his left eye is more broken
than his right
...
lamb
ask danny if she knows about brittle cornstalks
and frozen garden hoses
...
if i had a million dollars
i would find a way
to create
a live video
...
deep in sleep
i wake abruptly to an entity unseen
but with presence enough to squeak the springs
as he sits down beside my body
...
the wizened tribesman
is cast off to stank
in a clammy root cellar
...
given this one moment in february
at the end of a lengthy squall
this horrendously heavy barn door
emitting the message
...
she draws in dullard greys and black
plus dirty browns where other women
might choose to use the color red
...
The nudging man
You wonder why that kid doesn't just stay at home till maybe 2: 00 a.m.—watch Carson—give his eyelids the cucumber treatment—because he gets so stiff he can barely lift his warm beer to his face. How he reminds you of when you pick up a small bird which has crashed into your kitchen window and it becomes completely still; it does not resist; it does not know where it is; it does not know what it is. You've always figured it was waiting for something familiar, another bird, to nudge it, to call to it. But the best that you can do is place it gently in the warmth of your armpit, in the darkness of that place where nothing threatens it and your body heat and the beating of your heart are without a name and you sense that that familiarity makes the bird become whole again.
You see the kid every night when you slide him a Schlitz-on-draft across your bar—never expecting a tip. A kid like him will nurse one beer from 10: 05, when he arrives, till the moment when he scores: fifteen minutes before you close. It takes him an hour to rise up from the barstool, move across the room for a different point of view—to where the quantity of men for choosing is mounting. He's barely touched his beer but his eyes are showing signs of wanting. Wanting it bad. He's available but shows no sense of knowing that he has a right to declare that he is present, as in speaking out loud: I've seen you here before, can I buy you a beer, as if he fears his voice, his presence, will reveal himself to himself; that this can only happen by the revelation of the recognition of him by another man. So each hour he repositions, stands as near as he can stand to a man—nudges one of them. But he cannot say a single word. Then another; he nudges another and another.
...
1.
i think i'll head out on foot
into this blizzard
traipse up a mountainside
...
a whole truck box of tools outback
sweat and oil deep-rubbed into a tired belt
with slots matched to my two-pound hammer like fingerprints
my scratched-out tape measure
...
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,
...
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…….
...
Rappelle-toi Barbara
Il pleuvait sans cesse sur Brest ce jour-là
Et tu marchais souriante
Épanouie ravie ruisselante
...
TO AMARANTHA; THAT SHE WOULD DISHEVELL HER HAIRE.
I.
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.
...
Between us now and here -
Two thrown together
Who are not wont to wear
Life's flushest feather -
...
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9/30/2022 6:06:52 PM # 1.0.0.1034
