Since ever the world was spinning
And till the world shall end
You've your man in the beginning
Or you have him in the end,
But to have him from start to finish
And neither nor borrow nor lend
Is what all of the girls are wanting
And none of the gods can send
Steal not this book for fear of shame
For on it is the owners name
And when you die the Lord will say
Where is the book you stole away
And when you say you do not know
The Lord will say go down below.
Mots clés humor poem punishment book stealing
A poem is a meteor.
Wallace StevensMots clés poetry poem poets wallace-stevens
when I am feeling
low
all i have to do is
watch my cats
and my
courage
returns
Mots clés cats poetry courage poem pets
Like one who, on a lonely road,
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And, having once turned round, walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread. -
Coleridge's "Ancient Mariner.
Mots clés poem frankenstein
The longer a life, the challenge is not the distance between destinations, but the difficulty of travelling light. My soul’s a portmanteau packed full, one half filled with what was, the other with what is, what should be.
Jamie A. HughesMots clés history poem baggage
That young man with the long, auburn hair and the impudent face - that young man was not really a poet; but surely he was a poem.
G.K. ChestertonOpen the fridge and put
My heart on a plate.
I'm just as you left
me, and I taste even better
leftover.
Mots clés poetry poem gossip-girl cecily-von-ziegesar dan-humphrey don-t-you-forget-about-me
Katie says, "You can't choose the time and place the when and where with whom you fall in love."
She says, "It just happens like that weird feeling you get right before you fall asleep when you gasp in surprise because your muscles just relaxed and you feel like you are falling."
She says, "Marcie, you shouldn't worry about it -- give it time to actually happen."
I guess --
I worry that I won't do it right.
That it'll be the wrong time, the wrong place, the wrong person.
Mots clés love relationships poem
The Weaver
My life is but a weaving
between my Lord and me;
I cannot choose the colors
He worketh steadily.
Oft times He weaveth sorrow
And I, in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper,
And I the underside.
Not til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful
In the Weaver's skillful hand,
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.
Mots clés poetry poem religious poems religious-faith inpsirational
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