Let Me Die a Younger Man’s Death by Roger McGough

Let me die a youngman's death not a clean and inbetween the sheets holywater death not a famous-last-words peaceful out of breath death...

Celestial Music by John Donne

I have a friend who still believes in heaven. Not a stupid person, yet with all she knows, she literally talks to God. She thinks someone listens in heaven. On earth she's unusually competent. Brave too, able to face unpleasantness...

Grief by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless; That only men incredulous of despair, Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air Beat upward to God’s throne in loud access...

Elegy by Jorge Luis Borges

Oh destiny of Borges to have sailed across the diverse seas of the world or across that single and solitary sea of diverse names, to have been a part of Edinburgh, of Zurich, of the two Cordobas, of Colombia and of Texas...

Heritage by Countee Cullen

What is Africa to me: Copper sun or scarlet sea, Jungle star or jungle track, Strong bronzed men, or regal black Women from whose loins I sprang When the birds of Eden sang? One three centuries removed From the scenes his fathers loved, Spicy grove, cinnamon tree, What is Africa to me?....

Past and Future by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

My future will not copy fair my past On any leaf but Heaven's. Be fully done, Supernal Will ! I would not fain be one Who, satisfying thirst and breaking fast...

Bluebird by Charles Bukowski

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 to let anybody see you...

Always be a Poet, Even in Prose

Carrying bouquet, and handkerchief, and gloves, Proud of her height as when she lived, she moves With all the careless and high-stepping grace, And the extravagant courtesan's thin face...

Do not Go Gently into that Good Night by Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light...

Clancy of the Overflow by Banjo Paterson

I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago, He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him, Just 'on spec', addressed as follows, 'Clancy, of The Overflow'...

Omeros by Derek Walcott

In hill-towns, from San Fernando to Mayagüez, the same sunrise stirred the feathered lances of cane down the archipelago’s highways. The first breeze rattled the spears and their noise was like distant rain marching down from the hills, like a shell at your ears. In the cool asphalt Sundays of the Antilles....

A Man’s Requirements by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Love me Sweet, with all thou art, Feeling, thinking, seeing; Love me in the lightest part, Love me in full being....

Mending Wall by Robert Frost

Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it, And spills the upper boulders in the sun; And makes gaps even two can pass abreast. The work of hunters is another thing: I have come after them and made repair....

why? by ee cummings

don’t be sil ly ,o no in-...

A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns

O my Luve is like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve is like the melody That’s sweetly played in tune...

Filling Station by Elizabeth Bishop

Oh, but it is dirty! —this little filling station, oil-soaked, oil-permeated to a disturbing, over-all black translucency. Be careful with that match!...

Black Swans by Banjo Paterson

As I lie at rest on a patch of clover In the Western Park when the day is done, I watch as the wild black swans fly over With their phalanx turned to the sinking sun; And I hear the clang of their leader crying To a lagging mate in the rearward flying, And they fade away in the darkness dying, Where the stars are mustering one by one...

La Muse by Anna Akhmatova

When in the night I await her coming My life seems stopped. I ask myself: What Are tributes, freedom, or youth compared To this treasured friend holding a flute?...

The Animals in that Country by Margaret Atwood

In that country the animals have the faces of people: the ceremonial cats possessing the streets...

The Margin of Starry Silence

Day by day I float my paper boats one by one down the running stream. In big black letters I write my name on them and the name of the village where I live. I hope that someone in some strange land will find them and know who I am...

Dis Poetry by Benjamin Zephaniah

Dis poetry is like a riddim dat drops De tongue fires a riddim dat shoots like shots Dis poetry is designed fe rantin Dance hall style, big mouth chanting, Dis poetry nar put yu to sleep Preaching follow me Like yu is blind sheep, Dis poetry is not Party Political Not designed fe dose who are critical. Dis poetry is wid me when I gu to me bed It gets into me dreadlocks It lingers around me head Dis poetry goes wid me as I pedal me bike I've tried Shakespeare, respect due dere But did is de stuff I like...

Epigram by Anna Akhmatova

Here the loveliest of young women fight for the honour of marrying the hangmen...

Jews in the Land of Israel by Yehuda Amichai

We forget where we came from. Our Jewish names from the Exile give us away, bring back the memory of flower and fruit, medieval cities, metals, knights who turned to stone, roses, spices whose scent drifted away, precious stones, lots of red, handicrafts long gone from the world (the hands are gone too)...

Scots of the Riverina by Henry Lawson

The boy cleared out to the city from his home at harvest time — They were Scots of the Riverina, and to run from home was a crime. The old man burned his letters, the first and last he burned, And he scratched his name from the Bible when the old wife's back was turned....

I Heard a Fly Buzz – When I Died by Emily Dickinson

I heard a Fly buzz - when I died - The Stillness in the Room Was like the Stillness in the Air - Between the Heaves of Storm -...

The Pity of War

Owen, a poet and soldier. was one of leading poets of the First World War, his war poetry on the horrors of the trenches and gas warfare stood in stark contradiction to the public perception of war at the time. His best-know works, most published after his death, include Insensibility, Anthem for Doomed Youth, Futility, Dulce et Decorum est, and Spring Offensive....

Freedom and Love by Thomas Campbell

How delicious is the winning Of a kiss at love’s beginning, When two mutual hearts are sighing For the knot there’s no untying!...

Christmas Carol by Sara Teasdale

The kings they came from out the south, All dressed in ermine fine; They bore Him gold and chrysoprase, And gifts of precious wine...

Candy is Dandy

Unwillingly Miranda wakes, Feels the sun with terror, One unwilling step she takes, Shuddering to the mirror....

i carry your heart with me by ee cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) i fear....

Pravda by Jack Hirschman

Allen, your anti-Stalin remarks are Lousy with the old lies of zionism Lacquered up with buddhism's Eternal Nirvana of spontaneous Narcotic Now....

Blow, Bugle Blow by Alfred Lord Tennyson

The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying...

Forever is Composed of Nows

Emily Elizabeth Dickinson was a poet. She was born in Amherst, Massachusetts, into a prominent family with strong ties to the local community. She studied at the Amherst Academy for seven years before briefly attending the Mount Holyoke Female Seminary...

February by Margaret Atwood

Winter. Time to eat fat and watch hockey. In the pewter mornings, the cat, a black fur sausage with yellow Houdini eyes, jumps up on the bed and tries to get onto my head. It’s his way of telling whether or not I’m dead...

Old Man Platypus by Banjo Paterson

Far from the trouble and toil of town, Where the reed beds sweep and shiver, Look at a fragment of velvet brown - Old Man Platypus drifting down, Drifting along the river...

Everybody’s Doing It by Benjamin Zephaniah

In Hawaii they Hula They Tango in Argentina They Reggae in Jamaica And they Rumba down in Cuba, In Trinidad and Tobago They do the Calypso And in Spain the Spanish They really do Flamenco...

A Cook by Geoffrey Chaucer

They had a cook with them who stood alone For boiling chicken with a marrow-bone, Sharp flavouring powder and a spice for savour...

The Ballad of Dick Turpin by Alfred Noyes

The daylight moon looked quietly down Through the gathering dusk on London town A smock-frocked yokel hobbled along By Newgate, humming a country song. Chewing a straw, he stood to stare At the proclamation posted there...

Evangeline by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms. Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest...

neither awake by ee cummings

(while anyone might slowly count to soon) rose – did you see her? darling, did you (kiss me) quickly count to never? you were wrong ...

Chocolate Cake by Michael Rosen

I love chocolate cake. And when I was a boy I loved it even more...

Who Cares by Jack Hirschman

But the Nothingness he meant, which now is planetary, isn't negative, rather an aperture, an opening to the other side of actual self, to the process of hearing light, not unlike yourself when you bring all that in your everyday seems drifting...

Birches by Robert Frost

When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think some boy's been swinging them. But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning After a rain. They click upon themselves As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel....

Marrying the Hangman by Margaret Atwood

She has been condemned to death by hanging. A man may escape this death by becoming the hangman, a woman by marrying the hangman. But at the present time there is no hangman; thus there is no escape. There is only a death, indefinitely postponed. This is not fantasy, it is history....

Let It Enfold You by Charles Bukowski

either peace or happiness, let it enfold you when I was a young man I felt these things were dumb, unsophisticated. I had bad blood, a twisted mind, a precarious upbringing. I was hard as granite, I leered at the sun. I trusted no man and especially no woman...

Ode to Ironing by Pablo Neruda

Poetry is white: it comes from the water covered with drops, it wrinkles and piles up, the skin of this planet must be stretched, the sea of its whiteness must be ironed....

Santa Claus in the Bush by Banjo Paterson

It chanced out back at the Christmas time, When the wheat was ripe and tall, A stranger rode to the farmer's gate -- A sturdy man and a small. "Rin doon, rin doon, my little son Jack, And bid the stranger stay; And we'll hae a crack for Auld Lang Syne, For the morn is Christmas Day."...

Hyperion by John Keats

Deep in the shady sadness of a vale Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn, Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star, Sat gray-hair'd Saturn, quiet as a stone, Still as the silence round about his lair; Forest on forest hung about his head Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest. A stream went voiceless by, still deadened more By reason of his fallen divinity Spreading a shade: the Naiad 'mid her reeds Press'd her cold finger closer to her lips...

Ode to the Cat by Pablo Neruda

The animals were imperfect, long-tailed, unfortunate in their heads. Little by little they put themselves together, making themselves a landscape, acquiring spots, grace, flight. The cat, only the cat appeared complete and proud: he was born completely finished, walking alone and knowing what he wanted...

Renascence by Edna St Vincent Millay

ALL I could see from where I stood Was three long mountains and a wood; I turned and looked the other way, And saw three islands in a bay. So with my eyes I traced the line Of the horizon, thin and fine, Straight around till I was come Back to where I’d started from; And all I saw from where I stood Was three long mountains and a wood. Over these things I could not see: These were the things that bounded me...