People Poems
The Germ
by Ogden Nash
A mighty creature is the germ,
Though smaller than the pachyderm.
His customary dwelling place
Is deep within the human race.
His childish pride he often pleases
By giving people strange diseases.
Do you, my poppet, feel infirm?
You probably contain a germ.
Heaven
by Steve Turner
What happens in heaven?
Will I sit on a cloud?
Is walking or talking
Or jumping allowed?
Will I be on my own
Or with some of my friends?
Does it go on for ever
Or eventually end?
......
The British
by Benjamin Zephaniah
Take some Picts, Celts and Silures
And let them settle,
Then overrun them with Roman conquerors.
Remove the Romans after approximately 400 years
Add lots of Norman French to some
Angles, Saxons, Jutes and Vikings, then stir vigorously.
Mix some hot Chileans, cool Jamaicans, Dominicans,
Trinidadians and Bajans with some Ethiopians, Chinese,
......
The People Upstairs
by Ogden Nash
The people upstairs all practise ballet
Their living room is a bowling alley
Their bedroom is full of conducted tours.
Their radio is louder than yours,
They celebrate week-ends all the week.
When they take a shower, your ceilings leak.
They try to get their parties to mix
By supplying their guests with Pogo sticks,
And when their fun at last abates,
They go to the bathroom on roller skates.
......
The Poem Of Zuhair
by İbn Abî Sûlmâ Zuhayr
'Does the blackened ruin, situated in the stony ground between Durraj and Mutathallam, which did not speak to me, when addressed, belong to the abode of Ummi Awfa?
'And is it her dwelling at the two stony meadows, seeming as though they were the renewed tattoo marks in the sinews of the wrist?
'The wild cows and the white deer are wandering about there, one herd behind the other, while their young are springing up from every lying-down place.
'I stood again near it, (the encampment of the tribe of Awfa,) after an absence of twenty years, and with some efforts, I know her abode again after thinking awhile.
'I recognized the three stones blackened by fire at the place where the kettle used to be placed at night, and the trench round the encampment, which had not burst, like the source of a pool.
......
Smykker laget av stjerner - Sanja Atanasovska - North Macedonia
by Sanja Atanasovska
Når musikken blir kjedelig
når jeg ikke har styrke til
magisk uttrykk
vil himmelen bryte opp
månen vil bli hjemløs
......
Bridging the Gap
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
Mary Fletcher was prime minister in olde England, like fondest memory,
Of days when the twilight stood still, with silver moon, floating on sea.
Mary Fletcher was capable and caring, to the country's great benefit;
Like spring rains of green benevolence, trailing the fragrant evidence.
Andrew was Mary's loving husband. Their lives were so happy together!
Like allurng, violet future, that recalls moments in lush, green heather.
Scarlet summer was all in a fever, as faceted friends called, flustered;
......
Life Passing Me By
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
From obscurity come the strangers
Fading away, like old dangers.
Walking the street of flowers
more people pass every hour
A few are pleasantry exchangers.
Near my porch, robin sings
Beautiful music for summer swing!
Red berries in a bowl
Kelly green butterfles, on patrol
......
Coins
by Miranda White
Coins aren't my favorite thing
They are either shiny and bright
Or dull and dirty
But I know better
The shiniest ones and most bright
Turn out to be dirty and dull on the flip side
Dirty and dull
No use for something that isn't pretty
They give quite the impression
Until you realize all their flaws and imperfections
......
We Are Merely An Algorithm
by jan christian MN
in this molten hollow, crusted with land
overdue says the axis, manic spinning
round and about the magic gravity bond
there was barely a doubt in the eyes of the abyss
it gazes back when the word is said
quick, quick, the moment seeping quick
brushing—in bristles soft—our mystic time
each moment passing by, the fabric
layer stretching out into a platter: shine
presented on the altar of conscience
......
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Robinson Jeffers (12 poems about People)
10 January 1887 – 20 January 1962 / Allegheny, Pennsylvania -
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Stephen Crane (8 poems about People)
Newark, New Jersey, United States] (November 1, 1871 – June 5, 1900 / New Jersey