Ode Poems | Poemist

Popular Ode Poems

Ode To Psyche

by John Keats

O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung
By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,
And pardon that thy secrets should be sung
Even into thine own soft-conched ear:
Surely I dreamt to-day, or did I see
The winged Psyche with awaken'd eyes?
I wander'd in a forest thoughtlessly,
And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise,
Saw two fair creatures, couched side by side
In deepest grass, beneath the whisp'ring roof

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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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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
--------------------------------------- ------------------------------------

I

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Ode to a King

by Graham Ereks

The great iroko tree
Has fallen down;
Our king, the lion
Of this land has passed on
To the land of our silent fathers-
A journey of no return.

The land is in tears;
The soil is bleeding –
Things fall apart in every

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Ode To A Goldfish

by Jack Robinson

This sad sequence came as aftermath
To the day I gave my goldfish a bath.
She was so happy. There was nary a scowl,
as she got her rubdown with the towel.

Then, into the water she slid -- in the nude,
to swim. A vision of piscatorial pulchritude.
I do get sentimental about a fish so ornamental..
And I knew: for her to flourish, I must properly nourish.

......

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 . . . .

......

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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