Landscapes poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best landscapes poems ever written. Read all poems about landscapes.
How neatly a cat sleeps,
sleeps with its paws and its posture,
sleeps with its wicked claws,
and with its unfeeling blood,
Without you every morning would feel like going back to work after a holiday,
Without you I couldn't stand the smell of the East Lancs Road,
Without you ghost ferries would cross the Mersey manned by skeleton crews,
Without you I'd probably feel happy and have more money and time and
Look out across the windswept hills,
With rainbow hues, with misty blues,
Across the valleys, lakes and rills,
Where landscapes fuse, where eyes peruse,
Little things that no one needs --
Little things to joke about --
Little landscapes, done in beads.
Little morals, woven out,
Sleeping beside you I dreamt
I woke beside you;
Waking beside you
I thought I was dreaming.
Beautiful silvery Tay,
With your landscapes, so lovely and gay,
Along each side of your waters, to Perth all the way;
No other river in the world has got scenery more fine,
In serene guise a celestial beauty
You profess principle of equality.
Embodiment of benevolence,
At times you are cruelty's essence.
Nothing has changed.
The body is susceptible to pain,
it must eat and breathe air and sleep,
it has thin skin and blood right underneath,
Far spread the moorey ground a level scene
Bespread with rush and one eternal green
That never felt the rage of blundering plough
Though centurys wreathed spring's blossoms on its brow
An old man sits
In the shadow of a pine tree
Giving or not giving voice to the heretical words...
Understanding that true love is scarification.....
We drink the evening in a frosted glass.
Nothing about the music is profane.
Your eyes hold all emotion very quiet.
Fey Shadows stretch landscapes beyond belief.
On this blessed land
Foundations of giant structures
Are laid over virgin landscapes
Blotting the antiquity
These recollections with the scent of ferns
Are the idyll of early years
(Gregorio Gutierrez González)
The mood was bittersweet and lyrical.
The birds sang evening almost every day.
My dress was yellow as the paling sun.
Wind whispered of us to the Queen Anne's lace.
There is a God of red leaves and of dying.
He traced dark landscapes on my window pane.
Spare and beautiful the sound of crying
Libations of black coffee, drops of rain.
there is no wilderness
when hearts return
home to primeval welcome
She triumphs, in the vivid green
Where sun and quivering foliage meet;
And in each soldier’s heart serene;
When death stood near them they have seen
TO show the lab'ring bosom's deep intent,
And thought in living characters to paint,
When first thy pencil did those beauties give,
And breathing figures learnt from thee to live,
Tempora labuntur, tacitisque senescimus annis,
Et fugiunt freno non remorante dies.
Ovid, Fastorum, Lib. vi.
'O Cæsar, we who are about to die
who has spent time
in this beautified blue pearl world
there are seasoned diverse places spaces
countless kaleidoscopic landscapes
in this world there are countless landscapes
so many beautiful inspiring landscapes
without vibrant life diverse plants animals
landscapes are lifeless empty soulless voids
In a village, at the bottom of a valley, Where maple trees and birches and elms Pray to acacia and red current and gooseberry, I sip your skin in gulps, I go exploring patterns and textures of it, Its ever amazing landscapes... My sobriety is successfully altered by devastating lust. I lift up my pupils to the tarnishing, quenching hues of the heaven. I reign at my nook of cobwebs and quibbles. Riddles keep me awed.2022.
Drizzling over a glass, a snowwhite scrap of wintry landscapes... I fiddle through pages of this manuscript. No footnotes occur, each line is meaningful and self-sufficing. My prose is long and of extracts. These are verses of verses, mere line, sheer sense. No more significant episodes will occur in this play. Only simplistic feelings create their unique and weighty radiance. No more unexpected angles of sense, only brisk sensations... By Anna Polibina-Polansky, Moscow,2022.
Years And Landscapes
Drunken in poetry books and chanting years
Emotional to write about landscapes with writing brush and ink
Time simulating rhythms in an evening of joy and dancing, while a mind is watering.
Tasty and colorful notes of music wanting to try each and every flavor ever conceived in rainbow landscapes.
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.