Poem Poems
Here
by Betsy Sholl
Wharves with their warehouses sagging
on wooden slats, windows steamed up
and beaded with rain—it's a wonder
weather doesn't wash them away. In time,
they seem to say, you'll be gone too,
your belongings left on a quay for the taking . . .
What's there to do, but stroll over cobbled streets,
listing letters you owe, books, food, anything solid—
......
Beware: Do Not Read This Poem
by Ishmael Reed
tonite, thriller was
about an old woman, so vain she
surrounded herself with
many mirrors
it got so bad that finally she
locked herself indoors & her
whole life became the
mirrors
one day the villagers broke
into her house, but she was too
......
A Birthday Poem
by Ted Kooser
Just past dawn, the sun stands
with its heavy red head
in a black stanchion of trees,
waiting for someone to come
with his bucket
for the foamy white light,
and then a long day in the pasture.
I too spend my days grazing,
feasting on every green moment
till darkness calls,
......
As For Poets
by Gary Snyder
As for poets
The Earth Poets
Who write small poems,
Need help from no man.
The Air Poets
Play out the swiftest gales
And sometimes loll in the eddies.
Poem after poem,
Curling back on the same thrust.
......
The Nightingale
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
A Conversation Poem, April, 1798
No cloud, no relique of the sunken day
Distinguishes the West, no long thin slip
Of sullen light, no obscure trembling hues.
Come, we will rest on this old mossy bridge!
You see the glimmer of the stream beneath,
But hear no murmuring: it flows silently.
O'er its soft bed of verdure. All is still.
A balmy night! and though the stars be dim,
......
not to the swift
by Rikske Kessner
They cling to the weight of their quill,
the tactile sensation, grounding them,
yet, the digital tide pulls at their resolve,
urging them to adapt or be left behind.
Nostalgia blooms in the scent of old books,
memories of applause, now distant echoes,
the poet's dilemma, a struggle within,
to honour tradition or embrace the new.
......
Who really are you?
by Kevin Junior Ojang Ojong
I sat with a man long enough, and I didn’t know his name. We were together always, and together never.
He came to me when I called, and he came when I did not. Cloaked in black with a sash of red like blood distilled, a red that could not be described.
He had fire in his eyes and always wore an expression that terrified me.
We sat in silence while the steam rose from his body, and his answers to all questions were grunts and grunts alone.
“What is your name?” I asked him and he said “I am an emotion”. I thought to myself then you must be Anger.
......
Memories of a While Back
by Mai ✿
O memories of long ago
I never thought I'd miss you
I still remember those times
Never thought they'd be the best of times
Oh, how I long for those days
Hard as they were, painful even
They are the loveliest, nonetheless
Younger me would've been perplexed
If she knew I want those days back!
But perhaps that's how life is
......
through the eyes of a stranger
by Rikske Kessner
Through the eyes of a stranger,
I walk the crowded streets,
My thoughts hidden behind
A façade of indifference.
Always writing under breath
Each step the rhythm of a song
I listen for the murmurs,
The stories left half-told,
And with borrowed breath,
......
A poem
by Aldo Kraas
A poem
I write to you
I feel that I am losing you
Slowly
And I am afraid that is happening
Now
Father I can't imagine
Me living without you
Father I don't want to live
Alone anymore
......
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Delmore Schwartz (12 poems about Poem)
8 December 1913 - 11 July 1966 / Brooklyn / New York / United States -
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