Blindness poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best blindness poems ever written. Read all poems about blindness.
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent
A process in the weather of the heart
Turns damp to dry; the golden shot
Storms in the freezing tomb.
A weather in the quarter of the veins
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.
Too proud to die; broken and blind he died
The darkest way, and did not turn away,
A cold kind man brave in his narrow pride
WHO is Silvia? What is she?
That all our swains commend her?
Holy, fair, and wise is she;
The heaven such grace did lend her,
Lest we forget
Those who were blinded
So that we may see
Lest we forget
To those fixed on white,
White is white,
To those fixed on black,
It is the same,
Family comes together
For always and forever
In sickness and in health
In poverty or in wealth
I close my eyes to find a place
In different time and different space
And in imagination find
A cloistered arbour for my mind
The First Epistle
Awake, my ST. JOHN!(1) leave all meaner things
To low ambition, and the pride of Kings.
In a stage-coach, where late I chanced to be,
A little quiet girl my notice caught;
I saw she looked at nothing by the way,
Thou, who dost dwell alone;
Thou, who dost know thine own;
Thou, to whom all are known,
From the cradle to the grave,--
Sir, since the last Elizabethan died,
Or, rather, that more Paradisal muse,
Blind with much light, passed to the light more glorious
Or deeper blindness, no man's hand, as thine,
Reason will not decide at last; the sword will decide.
The sword: an obsolete instrument of bronze or steel,
formerly used to kill men, but here
In the sense of a symbol. The sword: that is: the storms
Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought
countless ills upon the Achaeans. Many a brave soul did it send
hurrying down to Hades, and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs
and vultures, for so were the counsels of Jove fulfilled from the
Eyes tell, tell me, what you tell me,
telling something all too sweet,
making music out of beauty,
with a question hidden deep.
And now it was evening.
And Almitra the seeress said, "Blessed be this day and this place and your spirit that has spoken."
Heav'n from all creatures hides the book of fate,
All but the page prescrib'd, their present state:
From brutes what men, from men what spirits know:
Or who could suffer being here below?
In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn,
But thou art twice forsworn to me love swearing:
In act thy bed-vow broke and new faith torn
In vowing new hate after new love bearing.
The important charity Sightsavers
Helping people in poor countries see:
Regain their valuable eyesight
Young children and adults blind
There is always madness in love. There is always no reason in this madness. Love can fly from Paris to Baluch Mess Abbottabad only to have a cup of tea. Truth is that Love is blindness. Love is madness. Love is sweetness
Blindness is not in vision
But the impermeable membrane
Woven around stereotype thought
All because I found nothing wise
making love with you
is a way of making myself blind
i close my eyes as i do not want to see
as seeing makes me more blind than ever
Half of mind
the blindness goes far ahead
the rhythm ignored behind.
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