Ode Poems | Poemist

Popular Ode Poems

Dejection: An Ode

by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Late, late yestreen I saw the new Moon,
With the old Moon in her arms ;
And I fear, I fear, My Master dear !
We shall have a deadly storm.

Ballad of Sir Patrick Spence
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I

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Ode To The Moon

by Mary Darby Robinson

PALE GODDESS of the witching hour;
Blest Contemplation's placid friend;
Oft in my solitary bow'r,
I mark thy lucid beam
From thy crystal car descend,
Whitening the spangled heath, and limpid sapphire stream.

And oft, amidst the shades of night
I court thy undulating light;
When Fairies dance around the verdant ring,

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Ode To Envy

by Mary Darby Robinson

Deep in th' abyss where frantic horror bides,
In thickest mists of vapours fell,
Where wily Serpents hissing glare
And the dark Demon of Revenge resides,
At midnight's murky hour
Thy origin began:
Rapacious MALICE was thy sire;
Thy Dam the sullen witch, Despair;
Thy Nurse, insatiate Ire.
The FATES conspir'd their ills to twine,

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Ode To Della Crusca

by Mary Darby Robinson

ENLIGHTEN'D Patron of the sacred Lyre?
Whose ever-varying, ever-witching song
Revibrates on the heart
With magic thrilling touch,
Till ev'ry nerve with quiv'ring throb divine,
In madd'ning tumults, owns thy wondrous pow'r;
For well thy dulcet notes
Can wind the mazy song,
In labyrinth of wild fantastic form;
Or with empassion'd pathos woo the soul

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Ode To Wine

by Pablo Neruda

Day-colored wine,
night-colored wine,
wine with purple feet
or wine with topaz blood,
wine,
starry child
of earth,
wine, smooth
as a golden sword,
soft

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Recent Ode Poems

For John Lennon

by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

At Penny Lane,
among Strawberry Fields,
which swished in global excitement
and superbly choreographed words,
came a voice deep and long —
a voice we will hear time after time —
the voice of John
a protest of Lennon.

The Bridge

by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

We call her Oma.
She’s a simple, old, haggard wooden bridge
In my neighbourhood,
On the shaved navel of the forest, heavy and solemn,
With the colour of an aged, wizened python,
Spotted here and there and striped there and then.
So ramshackle, but friendly, cosy to the naked feet,
With that royal smell of wood-cellar combined with
The health of ancient wine.
Nothing more . . . .

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Yayu's AI Keyboard

by Yayu Uppsurya

Upon the desk, a silent stage, it lies,
A realm of keys, where thoughts take flight.
Each button, firm and cold as winter's ice,
Bears tales of dreams, of endless night.

It sings no song, yet music flows,
A symphony of clacking sounds.
The stage is set, the actors poised,
In this grand play of written bounds.

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An ode to a skylark

by Baramundi Roy

I am a little skylark, and God painted my colour brown.
Some people look upon me, and in disappointment frown.
But God has been very wise you see, because I have found
that my colour camouflages me whenever I'm on the ground.

I would not change my colour even if I had the choice.
For God has given this little skylark a wonderful voice.
People look up in wonder whenever I'm on the wing.
as there, high in the sky, my melodious songs I sing.

An ode to a Trilobite

by Baramundi Roy

Swimming in profusion in the Cambrian sea
this lovely creature is so appealing to me.
It's a fossil of variety and surprise
with its simple three lobed shape and compound eyes.

On its primordial feet it scurried around
the ocean floor hunting for food to be found.
Whenever threatened, it would curl into a ball
like a modern cheese hog to escape from it all.

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