Long live the weeds that overwhelm My narrow vegetable realm\! – The bitter rock, the barren soil That force the son of man to toil;

— Theodore Roethke · Long Live The Weeds

The Guitar The weeping of the guitar begins. The goblets of dawn are smashed. The weeping of the guitar begins. Useless to silence it. Impossible to silence it. It weeps monotonously as water weeps as the wind weeps over snowfields. Impossible to silence it. It weeps for distant…

— Federico Garcia Lorca · La Guitarra (The Guitar)

I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain—and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane.

— Robert Frost · Acquainted with the Night

There is enough treachery hatred violence absurdity in the average human being to supply any given army on any given day and the best of murder of

— Charles Bukowski · The Genius of the Crowd

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.

— W.E. Henley · Invictus

Sometimes the scales themselves weigh far too much, the heaviness of forever balancing blue sky with red blood. We were all born on days when too many people died in terrible ways, but you still have to call it a birthday.

— Andrea Gibson · Birthday

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground. So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind: Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

— Edna St. Vincent Millay · Dirge Without Music

I shall forget you presently, my dear, So make the most of this, your little day, Your little month, your little half a year Ere I forget, or die, or move away,

— Edna St. Vincent Millay · I shall forget you presently

there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I'm too tough for him, I say, stay in there, I'm not going

— Charles Bukowski · Bluebird

We cannot fathom his mysterious head, Through the veiled eyes no flickering ray is sent: But from his torso gleaming light is shed As from a candelabrum; inward bent

— Rainer Maria Rilke · Archaic Torso of Apollo

Who is Jeremy Lord? There are degrees of madness. And the matter you are, the more obvious it will be to other

— Charles Bukowski · My Madness

Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that word\! Give back my book and take my kiss instead. Was it my enemy or my friend I heard, “What a big book for such a little head\!”

— Edna St. Vincent Millay · Oh, oh, you will be sorry

Bring the Symphony Orchestra there is a thunderstorm you're playing a Wagner overture and the people leave their seats under the trees and run inside to

— Charles Bukowski · Rain

And if I loved you Wednesday, Well, what is that to you? I do not love you Thursday— So much is true.

— Edna St. Vincent Millay · Thursday

Do not love half lovers Do not entertain half friends Do not indulge in works of the half talented Do not live half a life and do not die a half death

— Kahlil Gibran · Do Not Love Half Lovers

You know i've either had a family a job something has always been in the way but now i've sold my house

— Charles Bukowski · Creativity

we had goldfish and they circled around and around in the bowl on the table near the heavy drapes covering the picture window and my mother, always smiling, wanting us all

— Charles Bukowski · A Smile to Remember

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. You must wake up with sorrow. You must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows and you see the size of the cloth.

— Naomi Shihab Nye · Kindness

If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too;

— Rudyard Kipling · If

(I Ask For Silence) Translated by Heidi Fischbach Now if you’d leave me in peace. Now if you’d get on without me. I am going to close my eyes And I only want five things, five favorite roots. The first is love without end. The second is to see autumn. I cannot be without leaves f…

— Pablo Neruda · Pido Silencio (I Ask For Silence)

74 poems

Poet Poem
Pablo Neruda A Callarse (Keeping Quiet)
Andrea Gibson A Letter To The Playground Bully, From Andrea, Age 8 ½
Charles Bukowski A Smile to Remember
Robert Frost Acquainted with the Night
Theodore Roethke Against Disaster
Rainer Maria Rilke Archaic Torso of Apollo
Andrea Gibson Ashes
Rainer Maria Rilke Autumn Day
Andrea Gibson Birthday
Edna St. Vincent Millay Bluebeard
Charles Bukowski Bluebird
Carl Sandburg Chicago
Charles Bukowski Creativity
Pablo Neruda Deber Del Poeta (Poet's Obligation)
Kahlil Gibran Defeat
Edna St. Vincent Millay Dirge Without Music
Kahlil Gibran Do Not Love Half Lovers
Theodore Roethke Epidermal Macabre
Walt Whitman Epitaph for a Friend
Robert Frost Fire and Ice
Charles Bukowski Go All The Way
Rainer Maria Rilke I Am Much Too Alone
Edna St. Vincent Millay I shall forget you presently
Leonard Cohen I stopped looking for you
Rudyard Kipling If
Theodore Roethke In a Dark Time
Billy Collins Introduction To Poetry
W.E. Henley Invictus
Theodore Roethke Journey Into The Interior
Naomi Shihab Nye Kindness
Federico Garcia Lorca La Guitarra (The Guitar)
Mary Oliver Lead
Charles Bukowski Letter to Hans van den Broek [Re. Censorship]
Charles Bukowski Letter to John Martin
Theodore Roethke Long Live The Weeds
Derek Walcott Love After Love
Rainer Maria Rilke Love Song
John Roedel My Love
Charles Bukowski My Madness
Billy Collins Nightclub
Charles Bukowski Nirvana
Edna St. Vincent Millay Oh, oh, you will be sorry
Charles Bukowski People Aren't Good (The Crunch)
Pablo Neruda Pido Silencio (I Ask For Silence)
Pablo Neruda Poesia (Poetry)
Charles Bukowski Rain
Edna St. Vincent Millay Renascence
Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer Rima XI (Rhyme XI)
William Butler Yeats Sailing To Byzantium
Walt Whitman Song Of The Open Road
William Shakespeare Sonnet 12: When I Do Count
Maya Angelou Still I Rise
Robert Frost Stopping by Woods on a Snowy…
Martha Postlethwaite The Clearing
Charles Bukowski The Genius of the Crowd
T.S. Eliot The Hollow Men
Mary Oliver The Journey
William Butler Yeats The Lake Isle of Innisfree
Rainer Maria Rilke The Man Watching
Charles Bukowski The Most Beautiful Woman in Town
Andrea Gibson The Nutritionist
Rainer Maria Rilke The Panther
Charles Bukowski The Strange
Theodore Roethke The Waking
Stephen Crane The Wayfarer
Antonio Machado The Wind, One Brilliant Day
Edna St. Vincent Millay Thursday
Edna St. Vincent Millay What Lips My Lips Have Kissed
Mary Oliver When I Am Among The Trees
Alexandru Vlahuță Where Are Our Dreamers
Mary Oliver Wild Geese
Billy Collins Workshop
e.e. cummings [since feeling is first]
e.e. cummings [you shall above all things be glad]