Poems begining by W

/ page 105 of 113 /

Order by :

1
. . .
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
. . .
113

When Night Comes

© Li Ching Chao

To the tune of "Telling My Most Intimate Feelings"When night comes,
I am so flushed with wine,
I undo my hair slowly:
a plum calyx is

Two universes mosey down the street
Connected by love and a leash and nothing else.
Mostly I look at lamplight through the leaves
While he mooches along with tail up and snout down,
Getting a secret knowledge through the nose
Almost entirely hidden from my sight.

Winter Night

© Boris Pasternak

It snowed and snowed ,the whole world over,
Snow swept the world from end to end.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.

Wapentake

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

To Alfred Tennyson Poet! I come to touch thy lance with mine;
Not as a knight, who on the listed field
Of tourney touched his adversary's shield
In token of defiance, but in sign

Walter Von Der Vogelweid

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Vogelweid the Minnesinger,
When he left this world of ours,
Laid his body in the cloister,
Under Wurtzburg's minster towers.

Woods in Winter

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

When winter winds are piercing chill,
And through the hawthorn blows the gale,
With solemn feet I tread the hill,
That overbrows the lonely vale.

Winters Offerings

© Robert M. Hensel

Crispy chimes of Autumn, spread out upon natures floor.
The falling greens of spring and summer, now taking on a brown like decor.
Bare bodies stand naked, their bones clanging in the wind.
Hoping to soon be reclothed, by winters cool new offerings.

When Once The Twilight Locks No Longer

© Dylan Thomas

When once the twilight locks no longer
Locked in the long worm of my finger
Nor damned the sea that sped about my fist,
The mouth of time sucked, like a sponge,
The milky acid on each hinge,
And swallowed dry the waters of the breast.

When, Like A Running Grave

© Dylan Thomas

When, like a running grave, time tracks you down,
Your calm and cuddled is a scythe of hairs,
Love in her gear is slowly through the house,
Up naked stairs, a turtle in a hearse,
Hauled to the dome,

Where Once The Waters Of Your Face

© Dylan Thomas

Where once the waters of your face
Spun to my screws, your dry ghost blows,
The dead turns up its eye;
Where once the mermen through your ice
Pushed up their hair, the dry wind steers
Through salt and root and roe.

Was There A Time

© Dylan Thomas

Was there a time when dancers with their fiddles
In children's circuses could stay their troubles?
There was a time they could cry over books,
But time has set its maggot on their track.

Where bells no more affright the morn

© Emily Dickinson

Where bells no more affright the morn --
Where scrabble never comes --
Where very nimble Gentlemen
Are forced to keep their rooms --

When I count the seeds

© Emily Dickinson

When I count the seeds
That are sown beneath,
To bloom so, bye and bye --

Wonder -- is not precisely Knowing

© Emily Dickinson

Wonder -- is not precisely Knowing
And not precisely Knowing not --
A beautiful but bleak condition
He has not lived who has not felt --

Wolfe demanded during dying

Wolfe demanded during dying
"Which obtain the Day"?
"General, the British" -- "Easy"
Answered Wolfe "to die"

Without this -- there is nought --

Without this -- there is nought --
All other Riches be
As is the Twitter of a Bird --
Heard opposite the Sea --

Without a smile -- Without a Throe

Without a smile -- Without a Throe
A Summer's soft Assemblies go
To their entrancing end
Unknown -- for all the times we met --
Estranged, however intimate --
What a dissembling Friend --