Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.
The beggar sits, by the busy street, With a cup in hand, and tired feet, A forgotten soul, in a world so fast, A life so hard, that never seems to last.
By M Anandaraj 4 years ago in Poets
The elephant strides, with a regal air, Its trunk so strong, its tusks so rare, Its wrinkled skin, a map of its life, Tales of its journey, without any strife.
The night sky is a canvas, black and wide, With stars that twinkle, like fireflies, A sprinkle of magic, a hint of stardust,
The world moves fast, a constant race, We rush from place to place, with little grace, The pressure builds, the stress, the fray,
I leant upon a coppice gate When Frost was spectre-grey, And Winter’s dregs made desolate The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
The plane leaves fall black and wet on the lawn; the cloud sheaves in heaven’s fields set droop and are drawn in falling seeds of rain;
‘Summer is coming, summer is coming. I know it, I know it, I know it. Light again, leaf again, life again, love again,’ Yes, my wild little Poet.
The vermin in square How dare they tell bitter truth As if they know it *** How dare better stare Say may I and perfect it
By Canuck Scriber Lisa Lachapelle4 years ago in Poets
Dreams of hope boxed up Left unsorted, collecting Dust off the letters
By Oneg In The Arctic4 years ago in Poets
Oh, how frighteningTornadoes are dangerous. . .Steer clear of them. . .
By Angelina F. Thomas4 years ago in Poets
Growing old is not. . .For the fragile weak at heart. . .Sure not for pussies. . .
Mexican jumpingBeans in my soul holy cowYea I am hyper
