Women poems
/ page 86 of 142 /Taking Off Emily Dickinson's Clothes
© Billy Collins
First, her tippet made of tulle,
easily lifted off her shoulders and laid
The Temple
© Edgar Lee Masters
Beyond the gates of Hercules
The seven builders took the stone,
Spurned everywhere in days of ease,
Long lying loose and overthrown,
Now carried over bitter seas
Where crystally Arcturus shone!
Autumn Wealth
© Kristijonas Donelaitis
Of course, there is no lack of faithful Christians ,too.
Most of Lithuanians are men of good character;
They love their families, obey the will of God.
Each day live saintly lives, steer clear of all misdeeds,
And rule their modest homes with kind parental care.
In The White Giant's Thigh
© Dylan Thomas
Through throats where many rivers meet, the curlews cry,
Under the conceiving moon, on the high chalk hill,
And there this night I walk in the white giant's thigh
Where barren as boulders women lie longing still
The Themes
© Millosh Gjergj Nikolla
On the pallid faces of fallen women
Loitering in doorways to sell themselves,
On their faces a tragic poem is carved
In tears and grief that rise to the heavens,
Reapers
© Mathilde Blind
Sun-Tanned men and women, toiling there together;
Seven I count in all, in yon field of wheat,
Where the rich ripe ears in the harvest weather
Glow an orange gold through the sweltering heat.
Preveza
© Kostas Karyotakis
Death is the bullies bashing
against the black walls and roof tiling,
death is the women being loved
in the course of onion peeling.
The Bankers Secret
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
The reader paused,--the Teacups knew his ways,--
He, like the rest, was not averse to praise.
Voices and hands united; every one
Joined in approval: "Number Three, well done!"
Im So Good That I Dont Have To Brag
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Now I'm warnin' all you women don't stand too close to me cause you might catch fire
Now you're talkin' to a man in a whole other kind of bag
Spring Song II
© Edith Nesbit
Small joy the greenness and grace of spring
To grey hard lives like our own can bring.
A drowning man cares little to think
Of the lights on the waves where he soon must sink.
Causerie (Conversation)
© Charles Baudelaire
Vous êtes un beau ciel d'automne, clair et rose!
Mais la tristesse en moi monte comme la mer,
Et laisse, en refluant, sur ma lèvre morose
Le souvenir cuisant de son limon amer.
Sonnet Of Motherhood XXIV
© Zora Bernice May Cross
You came. You saw me. And because in you
A myriad mothers all their love had spread,
Those holy women since the dawn of day
Gave you the promise of a master true
Dearest, that bee unto the flower was wed
When your song fitted with my humble lay.
Late Ripeness
© Czeslaw Milosz
Not soon, as late as the approach of my ninetieth year,
I felt a door opening in me and I entered
the clarity of early morning.
Hearing Your Words, And Not A Word Among Them
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
Hearing your words, and not a word among them
Tuned to my liking, on a salty day
Salmacis and Hermaphroditus.
© Francis Beaumont
MY wanton lines doe treate of amorous loue,
Such as would bow the hearts of gods aboue:
The White Ship Henry I. Of England.25th November 1120
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
By none but me can the tale be told,
The butcher of Rouen, poor Berold.