Author's Poems

14 of 64
in Poems (Author's Poems)
Because of you, each day is a melon slice
smelling sweetly of earth
Because of you, all fruits reach out to me
as if I were the sun.
Thanks to you, I live on the honey of hope.
You are the reason my heart beats.
Because of you, even my loneliest nights
smile like an Anatolian kilim on your wall.
Should my journey end before I reach my city,
I've rested in a rose garden thanks to you.
Because of you I don't let death enter,
clothed in the softest garments,
and knocking on my door with songs
calling me to the greatest place.
Rate this poem: Send
    in Poems (Author's Poems)
    I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
    I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
    I am the red man driven from the land,
    I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek
    And finding only the same old stupid plan
    Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.
    Rate this poem: Send
      in Poems (Author's Poems)
      Looking at this insolent earth,
      you hear the first battle cry of our species-
      trap it under a rock
      and together, screaming, attack
      and destroy it, as if killing a mammoth.
      Rate this poem: Send
        in Poems (Author's Poems)

        Fable L: The Hare And Many Friends

        Friendship, as love, is but a name,
        Save in a concentrated flame;
        And thus, in friendships, who depend
        On more than one, find not one friend.

        A hare who, in a civil way,
        Was not dissimilar to gay,
        Was well known never to offend,
        And every creature was her friend.
        As was her wont, at early dawn,
        She issued to the dewy lawn;
        When, from the wood and empty lair,
        The cry of hounds fell on her ear.
        She started at the frightful sounds,
        And doubled to mislead the hounds;
        Till, fainting with her beating heart,
        She saw the horse, who fed apart.
        "My friend, the hounds are on my track;
        Oh, let me refuge on your back!"

        The horse responded: "Honest Puss,
        It grieves me much to see you thus.
        Be comforted-relief is near;
        Behold, the bull is in the rear."

        Then she implored the stately bull,
        His answer we relate in full:
        'Madam, each beast alive can tell
        How very much I wish you well;
        But business presses in a heap,
        I an appointment have to keep;
        And now a lady's in the case, -
        When other things, you know, give place.
        Behold the goat is just behind;
        Trust, trust you'll not think me unkind. '

        The goat declared his rocky lairs
        Wholly unsuited were to hares.
        'There is the sheep, ' he said, 'with fleece.
        Adapted, now, to your release. '

        The sheep replied that she was sure
        Her weight was too great to endure;
        'Besides, ' she said, 'hounds worry sheep. '

        Next was a calf, safe in a keep:
        "Oh, help me, bull-calf-lend me aid!"

        'My youth and inexperience weighed, '
        Replied the bull-calf, "though I rue it,
        Make me incompetent to do it;
        My friends might take offence. My heart-
        You know my heart, my friend-we part,
        I do assure you-Hark! Adieu!
        The pack, in full cry, is in view."
        Rate this poem: Send
          in Poems (Author's Poems)
          Marriage is rarely bliss
          But, surely it would be worse
          As particles to pelt
          At thousands of miles per sec
          About a universe
          In which a lover's kiss
          Would either not be felt
          Or break the loved one's neck.
          Rate this poem: Send
            in Poems (Author's Poems)
            Don't you know there is no one in the streets
            and no one in the houses?
            There are only eyes in the windows.
            If you don't have a place to sleep,
            knock on a door and it will open,
            open up to a certain point
            and you will see that it is cold inside,
            and that that house is empty
            and wants nothing to do with you,
            your stories mean nothing,
            and if you insist on being gentle,
            the dog and the cat will bite you.
            Rate this poem: Send
              1 ... 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 ... 64  
              Read something newDiscover All Topics