Poems yet to be categorised
- Here lies, to each her parents' ruth,
Mary, the daughter of their youth;by Ben Jonson 12 lines - My son places his paint box in front of me
and asks me to draw a bird for him.by Nizar Qabbani 53 lines, 2 comments - And of me say the fools:
I entered the lodges of womenby Nizar Qabbani 51 lines, 2 comments - In the marketplace they are piling the dry sticks.
A thicket of shadows is a poor coat. I inhabitby Sylvia Plath 26 lines, 6 comments - One picture puzzle piece
Lyin' on the sidewalk,by Sheldon Allan Silverstein 25 lines, 1 comment - Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my earby Sheldon Allan Silverstein 26 lines, 2 comments - Br-r-ram-m-m, rackety-am-m, OM, Am:
All-r-r-room, r-r-ram, ala-bas-ter-by Mona Van Duyn 38 lines, 3 comments - In that soft season, when descending show'rs
Call forth the greens, and wake the rising flow'rs;by Alexander Pope 519 lines - It's boring and sad, and there's no one around
In times of my spirit's travail...by Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov 13 lines, 8 comments - A boy and his dog make a glorious pair:
No better friendship is found anywhere,by Edgar Albert Guest 18 lines, 1 comment - 'Help, help, ' said a man. 'I'm drowning.'
'Hang on, ' said a man from the shore.by Spike Milligan 23 lines, 1 comment - O'er night's brim, day boils at last:
Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud-cup's brimby Robert Browning 217 lines, 1 comment - For we have thought the larger thoughts
And gone the shorter way.by Ernest Hemingway 5 lines, 5 comments - Bill Jones, who goes to school with me,
Is the saddest boy I ever see.by Edgar Albert Guest 42 lines - I saw our golden years on a black gale,
our time of love spilt in the furious dust.by Judith Wright 15 lines, 1 comment - A tearful tincture washes
Cabbage-green skies;by Arthur Rimbaud 48 lines, 4 comments - Little by little the year grows old,
The red leaves drop from the maple boughs;by Ella Wheeler Wilcox 27 lines, 2 comments - An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,--
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flowby Percy Bysshe Shelley 13 lines, 1 comment - Rise up to be born with me, brother.
Give me your hand from the deepby Pablo Neruda 50 lines - Let only that little be left of me
whereby I may name thee my all.by Rabindranath Tagore 11 lines - Arise, and call her blessed,--seventy years!
Each one a tongue to speak for her, who needsby Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward 45 lines, 1 comment - Love is like the wild rose-briar,
Friendship like the holly-tree --by Emily Jane Bronte 14 lines, 3 comments
