Brothers poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best Brothers poems ever written. Read all poems about Brothers.
Nought loves another as itself,
Nor venerates another so,
Nor is it possible to thought
A greater than itself to know.
The coconuts have got the jobs.
The race industry is a growth industry.
We despairing, they careering.
We want more peace they want more police.
I am a little purple flower
My petals so extremely small
I 've stood in the grass for many an hour
Enjoying a breeze most of all
And I start wondering how they came to be blind.
If it was congenital, they could be brothers and sister,
and I think of the poor mother
brooding over her sightless young triplets.
I come from there and I have memories
Born as mortals are, I have a mother
And a house with many windows,
I have brothers, friends,
And a prison cell with a cold window.
They turn the water off, so I live without water,
they build walls higher, so I live without treetops,
they paint the windows black, so I live without sunshine,
they lock my cage, so I live without going anywhere,
Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers,
Ere the sorrow comes with years?
They are leaning their young heads against their mothers---
And that cannot stop their tears.
If suddenly you do not exist,
if suddenly you no longer live,
I shall live on.
I have got my leave. Bid me farewell, my brothers!
I bow to you all and take my departure.
Here I give back the keys of my door
Rise, brothers, rise; the wakening skies pray to the morning light,
The wind lies asleep in the arms of the dawn like a child that has cried all night.
Come, let us gather our nets from the shore and set our catamarans free,
To capture the leaping wealth of the tide, for we are the kings of the sea!
'I thought you loved me.' 'No, it was only fun.'
'When we stood there, closer than all?' 'Well, the harvest moon
Was shining and queer in your hair, and it turned my head.'
'That made you?' 'Yes.' 'Just the moon and the light it made
The anguish of the earth absolves our eyes
Till beauty shines in all that we can see.
War is our scourge; yet war has made us wise,
And, fighting for our freedom, we are free.
Lady Clara Vere de Vere
Was eight years old, she said:
Every ringlet, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden thread.
A father sees his son nearing manhood.
What shall he tell that son?
'Life is hard; be steel; be a rock.'
And this might stand him for the storms
Millions of babies watching the skies
Bellies swollen, with big round eyes
On Jessore Road--long bamboo huts
Noplace to shit but sand channel ruts
All that I owe the fellows of the grave
And all the dead bequeathed from pale estates
Lies in the fortuned bone, the flask of blood,
Like senna stirs along the ravaged roots.
We shall not always plant while others reap
The golden increment of bursting fruit,
Not always countenance, abject and mute,
That lesser men should hold their brothers cheap;
I'm taking a walk to the cemetery this morning,
be back before noontime for crumpets and tea.
I have two friends who died not so long ago;
they were brothers, treated me the same.
And a merchant said, 'Speak to us of Buying and Selling.'
And he answered and said:
(Dedicated to you, my Brothers and Sisters)
Of brothers and sisters, a mother gave love of passion and choices in the grave.
Then she, the sisters, pushed brothers away
When really, she wanted them to stay.
Brothers by birth
brothers in arms
Blood running deepest
The tears of a child, the pain of a mother! A heart full of memories of a dead father! Here's so much sorrow, in every eye. Nothing but hurt left here, Nothing but bullets, pain, misery and shattered dreams …Yet for the children of world only one equation counts: their shared humanity. We will gather together as brothers, We will gather together as brothers. and we will live in solidarity with others in this world, we are the thirsty souls of a world without divisions. If we merge mercy with might and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change, our children's birth right. Let's step out of the shade, aflame and unafraid and don't trust any immortalist. The dove will find a resting place! !
She twentyfour then leaving the clubhouse dim as she walked out she an artist that no one knew only one does that is her childhood friends came wondering if something had happened but yet she realized she remembers once she stepped out of the clubhouse since she volunteers at the Al khor international school brtish stream she was then 25 she can only speak English does it makes her an English She speaks Spanish does it means she a Spanish she grown up a heartbeat of roses a golden vocal been searching by her childhood brothers a dute need a comeback it's so quite ever since she gone memories live on through the childhood memories she since how all her childhood brothers approach the landmark in the city heartbeat of Doha Qatar people mistake her as indian but true she has blood of a royal of jordanian and indonesian but resmbol of her late grandmother who live through her a last wise from a late ghosts that has gone in past prayer is in her mute sadness of her eyes and heartbeat can read by the brothers that she knew her life fill colour and kindness rose her life to others a duet need a comeback it's so quiet ever since she gone memories live on through the childhood memories since she about to leave all her childhood brothers approach the landmark in the city heartbeat of Doha Qatar people mistake her as Indian caused her beauty resmbol so many nationality but true is she has blood of a royal Jordanian and Indonesian but a resmbol of her late grandmother who live through her last wise from late ghosts that have gone in a past prayer is in her mute sadness of her eyes and a heartbeat can read by the brothers that she knew her life fill a colour, and a kindness rose her life to others.
this is a medieval sequel to the Cain killed Abel genesis stories
except the killing is not jealousy over who has their God's favour
but jealousy over who has the beloved lusted for woman's favour
with a twist of fermented apple juice mixed into a simmering stew!
below mountain summit high where lies noble birthright
their own home castle wrapped in poison darkest night
two brothers fought their fatal deadliest mortal fight
in the valley shadow where neither may again see light?
My black brother
The son of mother Africa
How come the twisted mind
Of hatred and murder
A photo of 3 brothers in a different time
in more innocent and carefree days
3 brothers only children then
before they went their separate ways
A seed of greed sown between brothers
A seedling of jealousy sprouting in bloods
A tree of overambitious want grown between two
Deadly can its flowers be
Gone from here for just 8 years, gone for time that made her cry.
Gone for time I missed my Dad, gone for things that made me lie.
I made it though my CO's wrath, I moved through bloody, metal mud.
I saw blistered babies in Iraq, I saw my friend be a dad as should..
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.