All Poems
/ page 539 of 3210 /Triumph
© Henry Cuyler Bunner
The dawn came in through the bars of the blind,--
And the winter's dawn is gray,--
And said, "However you cheat your mind,
The hours are flying away."
"My Hands Clasped..."
© Anna Akhmatova
My hands clasped under a veil, dim and hazy
"Why are you so pale and upset?"
Thats because I today made him crazy
With the sour wine of regret.
The Progress of Spring
© Alfred Tennyson
THE groundflame of the crocus breaks the mould,
Fair Spring slides hither o'er the Southern sea,
Doctor B. Of Tears
© Sir Henry Wotton
Who would have thought, there could have bin
Such joy in tears, wept for our sin?
Again Endorsing The Lady
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Horace: Book II, Elegy 2
"Liber eram et vacuo meditabar vivere lecto-"
In My Mother's House by Gloria g. Murray: American Life in Poetry #31 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate
© Ted Kooser
All of us have known tyrants, perhaps at the office, on the playground or, as in this poem, within a family. Here Long Island poet Gloria g. Murray portrays an authoritarian mother and her domain. Perhaps you've felt the tension in a scene like this.
Gloves by Jose Angel Araguz: American Life in Poetry #196 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
One of the most effective means for conveying strong emotion is to invest some real object with one's feelings, and then to let the object carry those feelings to the reader. Notice how the gloves in this short poem by Jose´ Angel Araguz of Oregon carry the heavy weight of the speaker's loss.
Gloves
I made up a story for myself once,
That each glove I lost
Was sent to my father in prison
Beloved, with the spent and sickly fumes...
© Boris Pasternak
Beloved, with the spent and sickly fumes
Of rumour's cinders all the air is filled,
But you are the engrossing lexicon
Of fame mysterious and unrevealed,
The Wood-Path
© Margaret Widdemer
THE little wood-path wandered
Green and brown and gay
Up a hill and down a hill,
Through a dew-wet way.
Beer
© Charles Stuart Calverley
In those old days which poets say were golden -
(Perhaps they laid the gilding on themselves:
The Shape Of The Fire
© Theodore Roethke
Whats this? A dish for fat lips.
Who says? A nameless stranger.
Is he a bird or a tree? Not everyone can tell.
Intry-Mintry
© Eugene Field
Willie and Bess, Georgie and May
Once, as these children were hard at play,
A Smile To Remember
© Charles Bukowski
my mother, poor fish,
wanting to be happy, beaten two or three times a
week, telling me to be happy: "Henry, smile!
why don't you ever smile?"
Lines Read At The New York City Hall Meeting On Lafayette Day, 1918
© John Jay Chapman
And even while we hold our holiday
The Allied ranks in fierce array
Press on the foe like huntsman on the prey:
The Wild Boar of the North is brought to bay!
The Benefit Of Trouble
© Edgar Albert Guest
IF LIFE were rosy and skies were blue
And never a cloud appeared,
If every heart that you loved proved true,
And never a friendship seared;
If there were no troubles to fret your soul,
You never would struggle to gain your goal.
Lines For Music (I)
© Frances Anne Kemble
Loud wind, strong wind, where art thou blowing?
Into the air, the viewless air,