Love poems
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Living with myself
© KateZ
So alone my dear life
looking for error in my mind
no problem, only loneliness
but why so sad?
Elements of Composition
© A. K. Ramanujan
Composed as I am, like others,
of elements on certain well-known lists,
father's seed and mother's egg
FORMAT
© A. Ayyappan
Don’t cry out: ‘O! God!’
For He doesn’t have any power of hearing…
No eyes, He has, to see the suffering billions
And not even a single drop of spittle on His tongue…
On The Sale By Auction Of Keats' Love Letters
© Oscar Wilde
Is it not said that many years ago,
In a far Eastern town, some soldiers ran
With torches through the midnight, and began
To wrangle for mean raiment, and to throw
Dice for the garments of a wretched man,
Not knowing the God's wonder, or His woe?
To a Gentleman and Lady on the Death of the Lady's Brother and Sister
© Phillis Wheatley
But, Madam, let your grief be laid aside,
And let the fountain of your tears be dry'd,
In vain they flow to wet the dusty plain,
Your sighs are wafted to the skies in vain,
Your pains they witness, but they can no more,
While Death reigns tyrant o'er this mortal shore.
Verses on Sir Joshua Reynold's Painted Window at New College, Oxford
© Thomas Warton
Reynolds, 'tis thine, from the broad window's height,
To add new lustre to religious light:
Not of its pomp to strip this ancient shrine,
But bid that pomp with purer radiance shine:
With arts unknown before, to reconcile
The willing Graces to the Gothic pile.
The Emigrants: Book II
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Scene, on an Eminence on one of those Downs, which afford to the South a view of the Sea; to the North of the Weald of Sussex. Time, an Afternoon in April, 1793.
The Emigrants: Book I
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Scene, on the Cliffs to the Eastward of the Town of
Brighthelmstone in Sussex. Time, a Morning in November, 1792.
Sonnet XLVII: To Fancy
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Thee, Queen of Shadows! -- shall I still invoke,
Still love the scenes thy sportive pencil drew,
Sonnet VII: Sweet Poet of the Woods
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Sweet poet of the woods---a long adieu!
Farewel, soft minstrel of the early year!
Sonnet III: To a Nightingale
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Poor melancholy bird---that all night long
Tell'st to the Moon, thy tale of tender woe;
From what sad cause can such sweet sorrow flow,
And whence this mournful melody of song?
Sonnet I
© Charlotte Turner Smith
THE partial Muse, has from my earliest hours,
Smil'd on the rugged path I'm doom'd to tread,
Snow and Ice
© Quincy Troupe
ice sheets sweep this slick mirrored dark place
space as keys that turn in tight, trigger
When All My Five And Country Senses See
© Dylan Thomas
My one and noble heart has witnesses
In all love's countries, that will grope awake;
And when blind sleep drops on the spying senses,
The heart is sensual, though five eyes break.
The Force That Through The Green Fuse Drives The Flower
© Dylan Thomas
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
Among Those Killed In The Dawn Raid Was A Man Aged A Hundred
© Dylan Thomas
When the morning was waking over the war
He put on his clothes and stepped out and he died,
