Poetry poems

/ page 19 of 55 /

Order by :

1
. . .
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
. . .
55

Poem 2 From Pierce Penilesse

© Thomas Nashe

Perusing yesternight with idle eyes,
The Fairy Singers stately tuned verse:
And viewing after Chap-mens wonted guise,
What strange contents the title did rehearse.

The Love Of Loves

© Madison Julius Cawein

I have not seen her face, and yet

She is more sweet than any thing

The Origin Of Didactic Poetry

© James Russell Lowell

When wise Minerva still was young

And just the least romantic,

Poetry: A Metrical Essay, Read Before the Phi Beta Kappa Society, Harvard

Scenes of my youth! awake its slumbering fire!
Ye winds of Memory, sweep the silent lyre!
Ray of the past, if yet thou canst appear,
Break through the clouds of Fancyâs waning year;
Chase from her breast the thin autumnal snow,
If leaf or blossom still is fresh below!

Verse

© Nizar Qabbani

1
Friends
The old word is dead.
The old books are dead.
Our speech with holes like worn-out shoes is dead.
Dead is the mind that led to defeat.

After The Marne, Joffre Visited The Front By Car

© Filippo Tommaso Marinetti

Marinetti's work combines art and poetry into a form form he called parole in liberte (words in freedom).

Corned Beef and Cabbage by George Bilgere: American Life in Poetry #205 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laurea

© Ted Kooser

Memories have a way of attaching themselves to objects, to details, to physical tasks, and here, George Bilgere, an Ohio poet, happens upon mixed feelings about his mother while slicing a head of cabbage.

Corned Beef and Cabbage

Old Man Throwing a Ball by David Baker : American Life in Poetry #258 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate

© Ted Kooser

This marks the fourth time we’ve published a poem by David Baker, one of my favorite writers. Baker lives in Granville, Ohio, and teaches at Denison University. He is also the poetry editor for the distinguished Kenyon Review. Old Man Throwing a Ball

He is tight at first, stiff, stands there atilt

The Cherry Tree by David Wagoner: American Life in Poetry #202 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2

© Ted Kooser

Its oldest branches now, the survivors carved
by knife blades, rain, and wind, are sending shoots
straight up, blood red, into the light again.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright Â©2008 by David Wagoner, whose most recent book of poetry is âGood Morning and Good Night,â? University of Illinois Press, 2005. Reprinted from âCrazyhorse,â? No. 73, Spring 2008, by permission of David Wagoner. Introduction copyright © 2009 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction's author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

The Assimilation Of The Gypsies

© Larry Levis

In the background, a few shacks & overturned carts
And a gray sky holding the singular pallor of Lent.
And here the crowd of onlookers, though a few of them
Must be intimate with the victim,

Poetry and Prose

© Charles Harpur

What is the true difference twixt Prose and Rhyme,
Since both may be beautiful, both be sublime?
Nor in subject, nor treatment, nor passion it bides
But breathes through a certain rich something besides.

To A Gentleman, Who Had Abus'd Waller.

© Mary Barber

I grieve to think that Waller's blam'd,
Waller, so long, so justly, fam'd.
Then own your Verses writ in Haste,
Or I shall say, you've lost your Taste.

We, Who Were Slain In Unlit Pathways

© Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Wishing for the roses of your lips
we offered ourselves to a gallows' twig
Longing for the radiance of your glowing hands
we let ourselves be slain in unlit pathways

Gladys And Her Island

© Jean Ingelow

“Ah, well, but I am here; but I have seen
The gay gorse bushes in their flowering time;
I know the scent of bean-fields; I have heard
The satisfying murmur of the main.”

Poetry

SHE comes like the hush and beauty of the night,
And sees too deep for laughter;
Her touch is a vibration and a light
From worlds before and after.

Mongrel Heart by David Baker: American Life in Poetry #44 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006

© Ted Kooser

Unlike the calculated expressions of feeling common to its human masters, there is nothing disingenuous about the way a dog praises, celebrates, frets or mourns. In this poem David Baker gives us just such an endearing mutt.
Mongrel Heart

Up the dog bounds to the window, baying
ï¿½ ï¿½ ï¿½ ï¿½ ï¿½ ï¿½ like a basset his doleful, tearing sounds
ï¿½ ï¿½ ï¿½ ï¿½ ï¿½ ï¿½ ï¿½ ï¿½ ï¿½ ï¿½ ï¿½ ï¿½ from the belly, as if mourning a dead king,

The Dancer by David Tucker: American Life in Poetry #63 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006

© Ted Kooser

Remember those Degas paintings of the ballet dancers? Here is a similar figure study, in muted color, but in this instance made of words, not pigment. As this poem by David Tucker closes, I can feel myself holding my breath as if to help the dancer hold her position.

The Dancer