Daring poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best daring poems ever written. Read all poems about daring.
O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
What is Africa to me:
Copper sun or scarlet sea,
Jungle star or jungle track,
Strong bronzed men, or regal black
You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
I have met them at close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Do you remember still the falling stars
that like swift horses through the heavens raced
and suddenly leaped across the hurdles
of our wishes--do you recall? And we
Earth, Ocean, Air, belovèd brotherhood!
If our great Mother has imbued my soul
With aught of natural piety to feel
Your love, and recompense the boon with mine;
O young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
And save his good broadsword he weapons had none,
He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone.
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
FANCY, who leads the pastimes of the glad,
Full oft is pleased a wayward dart to throw;
Sending sad shadows after things not sad,
'Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis
vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent:
Sibylla ti theleis; respondebat illa: apothanein thelo.'
Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
I saw thee once- once only- years ago:
I must not say how many- but not many.
It was a July midnight; and from out
A full-orbed moon, that, like thine own soul, soaring,
SOME have won a wild delight,
By daring wilder sorrow;
Could I gain thy love to-night,
I'd hazard death to-morrow.
(From the early Anglo-Saxon text)
May I for my own self song's truth reckon,
Journey's jargon, how I in harsh days
One more Unfortunate,
Weary of breath,
Gone to her death!
I would've perhaps liked to swim in you O' sea
only if sharks and octopi didn't inhabit thee
Perhaps I would've swum and dived deeper in glee
Man was made of social earth,
Child and brother from his birth;
Tethered by a liquid cord
Of blood through veins of kindred poured,
Downtown moody boulevard chaos with geometric grid shaped layout and contrasting zones some fashionable clapperboard happy comfy with creepin Bougainvillea outer walls and others dark and lonely dog dirt proud - San Francisco with its great fishing net big catch clam mix of Chinese, Mexican, Red Indian stock, the down and dowdy, the rich and radiant the haves and want to haves and the opium red eyed living dead - they've been heading out this way for years seeking their fortune from the early gold rush days and Barbary coast dwellers, the out of town chancers, all looking for a free piece of pie, everyone wants the deal, everyone wants to win on the dollar wheel - walking downtown along Fisherman's Wharf with its crab steam pots and chowder sit easy squats and the huge swaying mass of touristy camera clicking lot, walking down Obese Pacific Highway thinking about America land of buy it, use it, chuck it, heaps of expendable disposable commodities - visited City Lights bookstore shrine where Ferlinghetti printed Ginsberg's Howl and the whole Beat Generation kicked off with the free flow thinkers so new and daring think Pollack in words so brave and loose now faded with ghosts of Kerouac and Burroughs in every shadowy bar - big visit to Frisco Museum of Modern Art and introduction to Sam Taylor Wood and Ralston Crawford keeping the flame alive. Yosemite was a silent mountain contrast hiking 3000ft to elevated waterfalls on the trail of the lonesome pine - then along the coast of grow anything Santa Barbara, Santa Maria, Santa Monica and sacks of Santa Claus goodies. Looking forward to Big Sur and more Kerouac dream connections. Not looking forward to flying home, could stay her, would stay here, if I was carefree rich or daring and loose.
There are some habits, since a year or two
That seem no longer a logical thing to do
When the world got absorbed by fear
The following became increasingly weird
I never cared to do the dangerous things, and liked to play it safe,
But the strict bonds of ordinariness, can oftentimes start to chafe.
I always preferred to cover my bets, for I hated the idea of failure,
Daring to look into its capabality of reflection and shade.
"I built a daring endurance within to set out with my father;
My father, handicapped, ails with knee fissure.
Far from my birth place I've been with my ailing father;
My assistance to him would be a boon unto him.
Ought to grab life by the scruff of its neck
Shaking my mind from the reverie I ride
If only she could plant on my cheek a peck
To restore a modicum of my plummeted pride.
Their time is it also like a big blob of sticky blood Their music stands hide the sky blue performers Lento and allegretto scour a veranda Bearing down upon the valley the sound of wind fills the theatre And the stage crowds with people rushing home Homeless their loneliness fingers a glass eyeball Their heads have all flown from desolate white spines Imaginary boatman dreams of cliffs alarmingly close It is a room flowers on the rented wardrobe chaotically fade At lunch wearing the island's velocity they see Animals on plates jumping from one side to another To be cut up seems to be misunderstood for having been present They use different plays to change dialect And blood and flesh butterfly wings on the menu are eaten Windows darken another border is stealthily crossed So borrow an address to heighten the anxiety in a letter The person who forgets to post it keeps altering the water's surface Theatricality reduces the world To images barely daring to inhale and can be erased at will They transcend their own distance roll up the curtains Draw close to the secret part of life
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