Silver Poems | Poemist

Popular Silver Poems

Presents From My Aunts In Pakistan

by Moniza Alvi

They sent me a salwar kameez
      &nb sp;     peacock-blue,
                 & nbsp; and another
   glistening like an orange split open,
embossed slippers, gold and black
      &nbs p;     points curling.
   Candy-striped glass bangles
      &n bsp;     snapped, drew blood.
   Like at school, fashions changed
      &n bsp;     in Pakistan -

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In Salutation To The Eternal Peace

by Sarojini Naidu

Men say the world is full of fear and hate,
And all life's ripening harvest-fields await
The restless sickle of relentless fate.

But I, sweet Soul, rejoice that I was born,
When from the climbing terraces of corn
I watch the golden orioles of Thy morn.

What care I for the world's desire and pride,
Who know the silver wings that gleam and glide,

......

In Spite Of War

by Angela Morgan

In spite of war, in spite of death,
In spite of all man's sufferings,
Something within me laughs and sings
And I must praise with all my breath.
In spite of war, in spite of hate
Lilacs are blooming at my gate,
Tulips are tripping down the path
In spite of war, in spite of wrath.
"Courage!" the morning-glory saith;
"Rejoice!" the daisy murmureth,

......

Mulga Bill's Bicycle

by Banjo Paterson

'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that caught the cycling craze;
He turned away the good old horse that served him many days;
He dressed himself in cycling clothes, resplendent to be seen;
He hurried off to town and bought a shining new machine;
And as he wheeled it through the door, with air of lordly pride,
The grinning shop assistant said, "Excuse me, can you ride?"
"See here, young man," said Mulga Bill, "from Walgett to the sea,
From Conroy's Gap to Castlereagh, there's none can ride like me.
I'm good all round at everything, as everybody knows,
Although I'm not the one to talk - I hate a man that blows.

......

Tithonus

by Alfred Lord Tennyson

The woods decay, the woods decay and fall,
The vapours weep their burthen to the ground,
Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath,
And after many a summer dies the swan.
Me only cruel immortality
Consumes; I wither slowly in thine arms,
Here at the quiet limit of the world,
A white-hair'd shadow roaming like a dream
The ever-silent spaces of the East,
Far-folded mists, and gleaming halls of morn.

......

Recent Silver Poems

I Dream of Treasure

by Saleh Ben Saleh

I have a chart,
to a piece of art.
It’s in a trunk,
In a ship that sunk.
I need the elite,
for the task to complete.
I’ll pay in pound,
Once it’s found.

The chest was grey,

......

Wild Moon of Magic

by Evelyn Judy Buehler

I was quite the cunning magician, famed for my illusions and sleight of hand,
Like cool tricks that jade green nature plays, that often we don't understand.

Days were filled with wonder and enchantment, like purple, star aster fields;
And the wonder of a coral, orange and red sunset, after a day of teal thrills!

The tradition of magic goes back centuries, as we frequently favor familiarity,
As sizzling sun follows the same golden path, amidst a pink peony prosperity.

Beside flower fields of blueberry fortune, friends in fashionable hats flaunted,

......

A Winter Bluejay

by Sara Teasdale

Crisply the bright snow whispered,
Crunching beneath our feet;
Behind us as we walked along the parkway,
Our shadows danced,
Fantastic shapes in vivid blue.
Across the lake the skaters
Flew to and fro,
With sharp turns weaving
A frail invisible net.
In ecstacy the earth

......

A November Night

by Sara Teasdale

There! See the line of lights,
A chain of stars down either side the street --
Why can't you lift the chain and give it to me,
A necklace for my throat? I'd twist it round
And you could play with it. You smile at me
As though I were a little dreamy child
Behind whose eyes the fairies live. . . . And see,
The people on the street look up at us
All envious. We are a king and queen,
Our royal carriage is a motor bus,

......

Anadyomene

by Sara Teasdale

The wide, bright temple of the world I found,
And entered from the dizzy infinite
That I might kneel and worship thee in it;
Leaving the singing stars their ceaseless round
Of silver music sound on orbed sound,
For measured spaces where the shrines are lit,
And men with wisdom or with little wit
Implore the gods that mercy may abound.
Ah, Aphrodite, was it not from thee
My summons came across the endless spaces?

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