POETRY POEMS
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Am I English?
Am i English?
Iam doing my poetry in English
not that i can do English
better than the English
.....
Francis Ngwenya
Am i English?
Iam doing my poetry in English
not that i can do English
better than the English
.....
Francis Ngwenya
Poetry
Poetry is a painting of words,
The colours are our tears and thoughts,
That flow from the mind to the pen in hand and onto the paper.
The different figure of speech and tone used in poetry enhances its texture.
.....
Salma Hatim
Poetry is a painting of words,
The colours are our tears and thoughts,
That flow from the mind to the pen in hand and onto the paper.
The different figure of speech and tone used in poetry enhances its texture.
.....
Salma Hatim
Iam A Poet
Iam a poet
i have been writing for a while
for both the black and white,
of late none of my literature
.....
Francis Ngwenya
Iam a poet
i have been writing for a while
for both the black and white,
of late none of my literature
.....
Francis Ngwenya
The Book
Reading from my book
poetry is my boss
is how I die every night
I disappear from sight
.....
Bheki Nxumalo
Reading from my book
poetry is my boss
is how I die every night
I disappear from sight
.....
Bheki Nxumalo
I Don't Want You To Read My Poems And Remain The Same
I don't want you to read my poems and remain the same,
i want you to read my poems and get rabbies,
attacking every jack and jill smoking cannabis
i want you to read my poems and wonder if Charles Darwin's theory of evolution was true,
.....
Francis Ngwenya
I don't want you to read my poems and remain the same,
i want you to read my poems and get rabbies,
attacking every jack and jill smoking cannabis
i want you to read my poems and wonder if Charles Darwin's theory of evolution was true,
.....
Francis Ngwenya
A Hand Axe
I know not a hand axe,
Cathartic is my poetry and rhyme.
I pen in the darkness,
when my sun sets in the east.
.....
Brian Bunguswa
I know not a hand axe,
Cathartic is my poetry and rhyme.
I pen in the darkness,
when my sun sets in the east.
.....
Brian Bunguswa
Artwork
Did you ever looked at the artwork
And wished it was a reality ?
Did you ever wanted to immerse in it ,and become onesss with a painting ?
Did you ever heard the rytmic sound of poems in the poetry book playing only for you ?
.....
Martina Rimbaldo
Did you ever looked at the artwork
And wished it was a reality ?
Did you ever wanted to immerse in it ,and become onesss with a painting ?
Did you ever heard the rytmic sound of poems in the poetry book playing only for you ?
.....
Martina Rimbaldo
Zombie (reverse Poetry)
"A zombie is what I am.
I would be wrong to say
I can love again,
.....
Noah Angelo Lb
"A zombie is what I am.
I would be wrong to say
I can love again,
.....
Noah Angelo Lb
Love - The Symbolic Soul
Love is a journey, only few dispatch it,
Not all can, the dream in life who loves,
Although millions of promises created.
It's fragile like a narrow glass, easily smart,
.....
Santosh Kumar
Love is a journey, only few dispatch it,
Not all can, the dream in life who loves,
Although millions of promises created.
It's fragile like a narrow glass, easily smart,
.....
Santosh Kumar
Meaning Of Poem
The feelings of my heart,
The way of expressing,
Are poetry
In the area of snuffery,
.....
Murari Lal
The feelings of my heart,
The way of expressing,
Are poetry
In the area of snuffery,
.....
Murari Lal
Mayakovsky
1
My heart's aflutter!
I am standing in the bath tub
crying. Mother, mother
.....
Frank O'hara
1
My heart's aflutter!
I am standing in the bath tub
crying. Mother, mother
.....
Frank O'hara
In Memory Of W.b. Yeats
I
He disappeared in the dead of winter:
The brooks were frozen, the airports almost deserted,
.....
W. H. Auden
I
He disappeared in the dead of winter:
The brooks were frozen, the airports almost deserted,
.....
W. H. Auden
Pantoum Of The Great Depression
Our lives avoided tragedy
Simply by going on and on,
Without end and with little apparent meaning.
Oh, there were storms and small catastrophes.
.....
Donald Justice
Our lives avoided tragedy
Simply by going on and on,
Without end and with little apparent meaning.
Oh, there were storms and small catastrophes.
.....
Donald Justice
Locksley Hall Sixty Years After
Late, my grandson! half the morning have I paced these sandy tracts,
Watch'd again the hollow ridges roaring into cataracts,
Wander'd back to living boyhood while I heard the curlews call,
.....
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Late, my grandson! half the morning have I paced these sandy tracts,
Watch'd again the hollow ridges roaring into cataracts,
Wander'd back to living boyhood while I heard the curlews call,
.....
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The Conclusion
Sleep not too much; nor longer than asleep
Within thy bed thy lazy body keep;
For when thou, warm awake, shall feel it soft,
Fond cogitations will assail thee oft:
.....
Francis Beaumont
Sleep not too much; nor longer than asleep
Within thy bed thy lazy body keep;
For when thou, warm awake, shall feel it soft,
Fond cogitations will assail thee oft:
.....
Francis Beaumont
Ode To Clothes
Every morning you wait,
clothes, over a chair,
to fill yourself with
my vanity, my love,
.....
Pablo Neruda
Every morning you wait,
clothes, over a chair,
to fill yourself with
my vanity, my love,
.....
Pablo Neruda
A Crazed Girl
That crazed girl improvising her music.
Her poetry, dancing upon the shore,
Her soul in division from itself
Climbing, falling She knew not where,
.....
William Butler Yeats
That crazed girl improvising her music.
Her poetry, dancing upon the shore,
Her soul in division from itself
Climbing, falling She knew not where,
.....
William Butler Yeats
A True Account Of Talking To The Sun On Fire Island
y! I've been
trying to wake you up for fifteen
minutes. Don't be so rude, you are
only the second poet I've ever chosen
.....
Frank O'hara
y! I've been
trying to wake you up for fifteen
minutes. Don't be so rude, you are
only the second poet I've ever chosen
.....
Frank O'hara
The Man With The Blue Guitar
as green.
They said, 'You have a blue guitar,
You do not play things as they are.'
.....
Wallace Stevens
as green.
They said, 'You have a blue guitar,
You do not play things as they are.'
.....
Wallace Stevens
The Passionate Pilgrim
I.
When my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
.....
William Shakespeare
I.
When my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
.....
William Shakespeare
On The Grasshopper And Cricket
The poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
.....
John Keats
The poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
.....
John Keats
.i Am A Woman, A Voice, A Flower
I am a woman,
And i have a sensitive soul,
My heart do enjoy the poetry,
My heart is my consciousness,
.....
Cristina Teodor
I am a woman,
And i have a sensitive soul,
My heart do enjoy the poetry,
My heart is my consciousness,
.....
Cristina Teodor
To The Muses
Whether on Ida's shady brow
Or in the chambers of the East,
The chambers of the Sun, that now
From ancient melody have ceased;
.....
William Blake
Whether on Ida's shady brow
Or in the chambers of the East,
The chambers of the Sun, that now
From ancient melody have ceased;
.....
William Blake
Birds Of A Feather
Of bosom friends I've had but seven,
Despite my years are ripe;
I hope they're now enjoying Heaven,
Although they're not the type;
.....
Robert Service
Of bosom friends I've had but seven,
Despite my years are ripe;
I hope they're now enjoying Heaven,
Although they're not the type;
.....
Robert Service
Poetry
Poetry to us is given
As stars beautify the heaven,
Or, as the sunbeams when they gleam,
Sparkling so bright upon the stream ;
.....
James Mcintyre
Poetry to us is given
As stars beautify the heaven,
Or, as the sunbeams when they gleam,
Sparkling so bright upon the stream ;
.....
James Mcintyre
Balqees
Balqees. . . oh princess,
You burn, caught between tribal wars,
What will I write about the departure of my queen?
Indeed, words are my scandal. . . .
.....
Nizar Qabbani
Balqees. . . oh princess,
You burn, caught between tribal wars,
What will I write about the departure of my queen?
Indeed, words are my scandal. . . .
.....
Nizar Qabbani
Dear Lorca
Dear Lorca,
These letters are to be as temporary as our poetry is to be permanent. They will establish the bulk, the wastage that my sour-stomached contemporaries demand to help them swallow and digest the pure word. We will use up our rhetoric here so that it will not appear in our poems. Let it be consumed paragraph by paragraph, day by day, until nothing of it is left in our poetry and nothing of our poetry is left in it. It is precisely because these letters are unnecessary that they must be written.
In my last letter I spoke of the tradition. The fools that read these letters will think by this we mean what tradition seems to have meant latelyâ??an historical patchwork (whether made up of Elizabethan quotations, guide books of the poetâ??s home town, or obscure bits of magic published by Pantheon) which is used to cover up the nakedness of the bare word. Tradition means much more than that. It means generations of different poets in different countries patiently telling the same story, writing the same poem, gaining and losing something with each transformationâ??but, of course, never really losing anything. This has nothing to do with calmness, classicism, temperament, or anything else. Invention is merely the enemy of poetry.
.....
Jack Spicer
Dear Lorca,
These letters are to be as temporary as our poetry is to be permanent. They will establish the bulk, the wastage that my sour-stomached contemporaries demand to help them swallow and digest the pure word. We will use up our rhetoric here so that it will not appear in our poems. Let it be consumed paragraph by paragraph, day by day, until nothing of it is left in our poetry and nothing of our poetry is left in it. It is precisely because these letters are unnecessary that they must be written.
In my last letter I spoke of the tradition. The fools that read these letters will think by this we mean what tradition seems to have meant latelyâ??an historical patchwork (whether made up of Elizabethan quotations, guide books of the poetâ??s home town, or obscure bits of magic published by Pantheon) which is used to cover up the nakedness of the bare word. Tradition means much more than that. It means generations of different poets in different countries patiently telling the same story, writing the same poem, gaining and losing something with each transformationâ??but, of course, never really losing anything. This has nothing to do with calmness, classicism, temperament, or anything else. Invention is merely the enemy of poetry.
.....
Jack Spicer
The Poet's Corner
Here where the end of bone is no end of song
And the earth is bedecked with immortality
In what was poetry
And now is pride beside
.....
Laura (riding) Jackson
Here where the end of bone is no end of song
And the earth is bedecked with immortality
In what was poetry
And now is pride beside
.....
Laura (riding) Jackson
The Poet
The riches of the poet are equal to his poetry
His power is his left hand
It is idle weak and precious
His poverty is his wealth, a wealth which may destroy him
.....
Delmore Schwartz
The riches of the poet are equal to his poetry
His power is his left hand
It is idle weak and precious
His poverty is his wealth, a wealth which may destroy him
.....
Delmore Schwartz
Dedication
You whom I could not save
Listen to me.
Try to understand this simple speech as I would be ashamed of another.
I swear, there is in me no wizardry of words.
.....
Czeslaw Milosz
You whom I could not save
Listen to me.
Try to understand this simple speech as I would be ashamed of another.
I swear, there is in me no wizardry of words.
.....
Czeslaw Milosz
Epitaph On A Tyrant
Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
.....
W. H. Auden
Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
.....
W. H. Auden
To Pile Like Thunder To Its Close
1247
To pile like Thunder to its close
Then crumble grand away
.....
Emily Dickinson
1247
To pile like Thunder to its close
Then crumble grand away
.....
Emily Dickinson
Whoever Brought Me Here
All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
.....
Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
.....
Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
March
There's a wind blowing
Cold through the corridors,
A ghost-wind,
The flapping of defeated wings,
.....
Patrick Kavanagh
There's a wind blowing
Cold through the corridors,
A ghost-wind,
The flapping of defeated wings,
.....
Patrick Kavanagh
Definition Of Poetry
It's a whistle blown ripe in a trice,
It's the cracking of ice in a gale,
It's a night that turns green leaves to ice,
It's a duel of two nightingales.
.....
Boris Pasternak
It's a whistle blown ripe in a trice,
It's the cracking of ice in a gale,
It's a night that turns green leaves to ice,
It's a duel of two nightingales.
.....
Boris Pasternak
A Canvas For A Crust
Aye, Montecelli, that's the name.
You may have heard of him perhaps.
Yet though he never savoured fame,
Of those impressionistic chaps,
.....
Robert Service
Aye, Montecelli, that's the name.
You may have heard of him perhaps.
Yet though he never savoured fame,
Of those impressionistic chaps,
.....
Robert Service
Train Journey
Glassed with cold sleep and dazzled by the moon,
out of the confused hammering dark of the train
I looked and saw under the moon's cold sheet
your delicate dry breasts, country that built my heart;
.....
Judith Wright
Glassed with cold sleep and dazzled by the moon,
out of the confused hammering dark of the train
I looked and saw under the moon's cold sheet
your delicate dry breasts, country that built my heart;
.....
Judith Wright
African Poem
African Poem.
Write the poem with a purple crayon
Remembering that one lives longer with so little frowns.
.....
Shalom Kasim
African Poem.
Write the poem with a purple crayon
Remembering that one lives longer with so little frowns.
.....
Shalom Kasim
Preface
A book which needs to be written is one dealing
with the childhood of authors. It would be
not only interesting, but instructive; not merely
profitable in a general way, but practical in a
.....
Hilda Conkling
A book which needs to be written is one dealing
with the childhood of authors. It would be
not only interesting, but instructive; not merely
profitable in a general way, but practical in a
.....
Hilda Conkling
To The Pious Memory Of The Accomplished Young Lady Mrs. Anne Killigrew
Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies,
Made in the last promotion of the Blest;
Whose palms, new pluck'd from Paradise,
In spreading branches more sublimely rise,
.....
John Dryden
Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies,
Made in the last promotion of the Blest;
Whose palms, new pluck'd from Paradise,
In spreading branches more sublimely rise,
.....
John Dryden
The Deserted Village
Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain,
Where smiling spring its earliest visits paid,
And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed:
.....
Oliver Goldsmith
Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain,
Where smiling spring its earliest visits paid,
And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed:
.....
Oliver Goldsmith
Christmas Eve
I
Out of the little chapel I burst
Into the fresh night-air again.
.....
Robert Browning
I
Out of the little chapel I burst
Into the fresh night-air again.
.....
Robert Browning
To Poetry
Donâ??t desert me
just because I stayed up last night
watching The Lost Weekend.
.....
Edward Hirsch
Donâ??t desert me
just because I stayed up last night
watching The Lost Weekend.
.....
Edward Hirsch
Philology Recapitulates Ontology, Poetry Is Ontology
Faithful to your commandments, o consciousness, o
Holy bird of words soaring ever whether to nothingness or
to inconceivable fulfillment slowly:
.....
Delmore Schwartz
Faithful to your commandments, o consciousness, o
Holy bird of words soaring ever whether to nothingness or
to inconceivable fulfillment slowly:
.....
Delmore Schwartz
Prosody 101
When they taught me that what mattered most
was not the strict iambic line goose-stepping
over the page but the variations
in that line and the tension produced
.....
Linda Pastan
When they taught me that what mattered most
was not the strict iambic line goose-stepping
over the page but the variations
in that line and the tension produced
.....
Linda Pastan
To An Ungentle Critic
The great sun sinks behind the town
Through a red mist of Volnay wine….
But what's the use of setting down
That glorious blaze behind the town?
.....
Robert Graves
The great sun sinks behind the town
Through a red mist of Volnay wine….
But what's the use of setting down
That glorious blaze behind the town?
.....
Robert Graves
Angels
Elliot Ray Neiderland, home from college
one winter, hauling a load of Herefords
from Hogtown to Guymon with a pint of
Ezra Brooks and a copy of Rilkeâ??s Duineser
.....
B H Fairchild
Elliot Ray Neiderland, home from college
one winter, hauling a load of Herefords
from Hogtown to Guymon with a pint of
Ezra Brooks and a copy of Rilkeâ??s Duineser
.....
B H Fairchild
Reason Says Love Says
Reason says, â?? I will beguile him with the tongue.â?; Love says,
â??Be silent. I will beguile him with the soul.â?
The soul says to the heart, â??Go, do not laugh at me and yourself.
What is there that is not his, that I may beguile him
.....
Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
Reason says, â?? I will beguile him with the tongue.â?; Love says,
â??Be silent. I will beguile him with the soul.â?
The soul says to the heart, â??Go, do not laugh at me and yourself.
What is there that is not his, that I may beguile him
.....
Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi