The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction: not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest— Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast.
William WordsworthMots clés poetry delight hope poem recollection
I'm heading for a clean-named place
like Wisconsin, and mad as a jack-o'-lantern, will get there
without help and nosy proclivities.
Mots clés poetry poem travel independence assistance nosiness wisconsin
terucap rindu sepasang insan..
geliat sang cinta di lubuk hati..
terurai kata nan indah menawan..
gundah pun sirna dibuai si mimpi.
Mots clés love dream poem longing
When Great Trees Fall
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.
Mots clés life poetry writing writers peace soul death poem poets trees souls poet poems american-writers maya-angelou i-shall-not-be-moved when-great-trees-fall
Very possibly this was the night my white-knight complex, as Solange put it, would get me killed. Someone had better write a poem about it. It was only fair.
Alyxandra HarveyMaybe you could be mine / or maybe we’ll be entwined / aimless in this sexless foreplay.
Jess C. ScottMots clés humor individuality wisdom imagination life truth honesty friendship love reality boys passion music poetry romance youth sex humour technology relationships self funny poem poets emotion culture poet novel body desire boy poems young cool poetry-life boyfriend
tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play— I tell you, Dorian, that it is on things like these that our lives depend.
Oscar WildeThe way you walk is slash and burn.
Like understatement's now a crime.
Mots clés poem sex-appeal walking understatement
أني اجدد يوما مضى لأحبك يوما و أمضي
Mahmoud DarwishMots clés poem
It's just me throwing myself at you,
romance as usual, us times us,
not lust but moxibustion,
a substance burning close
to the body as possible
without risk of immolation.
Mots clés love poetry romance poem lust burning
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