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We are the Team of Researchers and hard workers who spend hours of volunteer time, resourcing, checking and adding more and more poets and their poems to Oldpoetry for your enjoyment and hopefully for a new insight into Poetry, not just of the masters but the obscure poets too who had many 'one hit wonders'.

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  • Column: Anzac Day - 93 Years & Remembering at allpoetry
  • Column: So You Want To Become An Oldpoetry Mod at allpoetry
    Oldpoetry is a free site run by volunteers who enjoy poetry for people who also enjoy poetry.

    We want to pass on our love of poetry and give a single point of reference for the many fine poets from all over the world who have contributed to the d
  • Column: So You want To Become A Mod! at allpoetry
    Oldpoetry is basically a site with poems by OLD poets. Those that are out of copyright and hard to find. We do have a few by authors after 1950 but not many and only those with a solid reputation and generous copyright holders.
    We are here primarily f

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  • on Untitled 5 by Owen Suffolk, on March 29
    A heartfelt piece describing the plight of a transportee or other exile, far from the familiar surroundings of home and with little chance of ever returning there.
    One can sense the despair felt by the writer who was himself in this predicament when he wrote the poem.

  • on To The Commissioners Of Northern Lights by Robert Louis Stevenson, on March 29
    R L S seems to be endeavouring to copy the style of fellow Scot Rabbie Burns in this whimsical piece. The dialect form certainly seems to fit Burns' era better than Stevenson's.
    I like the idea of the Northern Lights being considered in the same way as any human corporation such as the that that ran the town's and cities in those times.
    This is a fun piece

  • on Hymn Sung At A Sacred Concert At Columbia, S.C. by Henry Timrod, on February 27
    Although entitled "Hymn Sung At A Sacred Concert" the poet seems to be saying that we do not need special places and special conditions. Our thoughts are heard wherevere we are.

  • on The Weaver by Edgar Albert Guest, on February 16
    For me the writer seems to be saying with all the intermingled activities of mother nature a plan is discernable but in our own individual lives are we working to a plan? Is the warp and weft of our lives producing a useful piece of cloth or just a jumble of yarn? Something useful or a hideous waste of effort? But he says it so much better than me!!