All Poems

/ page 1673 of 3210 /

Order by :

River-Mates

© Padraic Colum

ILL be an otter, and Ill let you swim

A mate beside me; we will venture down

The Lowering

© May Swenson

The flag is folded

lengthwise, and lengthwise again,

The Letter

© Amy Lowell

Little cramped words scrawling all over

the paper

To Mr. Henry Lawes

© Katherine Philips

Nature, which is the vast creation’s soul,

That steady curious agent in the whole,

Sometime at a concert hall, in recollection...

© Boris Pasternak

Sometime at a concert hall, in recollection,
A Brahms intermezzo will wound me-I'll start,
Remember that summer, the flowerbed garden,
The walks and the bathing, the tryst of six hearts,

Golden Retrievals

© Mark Doty

Fetch? Balls and sticks capture my attention
seconds at a time. Catch? I don’t think so.
Bunny, tumbling leaf, a squirrel who’s—oh
joy—actually scared. Sniff the wind, then

Star Light, Star Bright

© Dorothy Parker

Star, that gives a gracious dole,
What am I to choose?
Oh, will it be a shriven soul,
Or little buckled shoes?

I hate how this unsummoned sigh-sound, sob-sound,
not sound really, feeling, sigh-feeling, sob-feeling,
keeps rising in me, rasping in me, not in its old disguise
as nostalgia, sweet crazed call of the blackbird;

The Path Of Faery

© Madison Julius Cawein

I

When dusk falls cool as a rained-on rose,

The Triumph of Time

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

Before our lives divide for ever,

While time is with us and hands are free,

Ned Connor

© Charles Harpur

TWAS nightand where a watery sound
Came moaning up the Flat,
Six rude and bearded stockmen round
Their blazing hut-fire sat,
And laughed as on some starting hound
The cracking fuel spat.

On the Steps of the Jefferson Memorial

© Linda Pastan

We invent our gods

the way the Greeks did,

Sunday Alone In A Fifth Floor Apartment, Cambridge, Massachusetts

The Globe at the door, a jaunt
to the square for the Sunday Times.
Later the path you made has healed,
anyone may use it. A good day

The House of Life: 22. Heart's Haven

And Love, our light at night and shade at noon,
Lulls us to rest with songs, and turns away
All shafts of shelterless tumultuous day.
Like the moon's growth, his face gleams through his tune;
And as soft waters warble to the moon,
Our answering spirits chime one roundelay.

© Ted Kooser

They have set aside their black tin boxes,

scratched and dented,

from “Poems to Czechoslovakia”

black mountain
blocks the earth’s light.
Time—time—time
to give back to God his ticket.

© Walt Whitman

Would you hear of an old-time sea-fight?
Would you learn who won by the light of the moon and stars?
List to the yarn, as my grandmother’s father the sailor told it to me.