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Famous Short Flying Poems. Short Flying Poetry by Famous Poets

Famous Short Flying Poems. Short Flying Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Flying short poems

See also: Best Famous Short Poems | Short Member Poems | Best Short Member Poems | Top 100 Famous Short Poems

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by Ogden Nash

The Firefly

 The firefly's flame 
Is something for which science has no name 
I can think of nothing eerier 
Than flying around with an unidentified glow on a 
person's posteerier.


by Dejan Stojanovic

Inner Space

Entering a cell, penetrating deep 
As a flying saucer 
To find a new galaxy 
Would be an honorable task 
For a new scientist interested 
More in the inner state of the soul 
Than in outer space.


by Emily Dickinson

I never hear the word escape

 I never hear the word "escape"
Without a quicker blood,
A sudden expectation
A flying attitude!

I never hear of prisons broad
By soldiers battered down,
But I tug childish at my bars
Only to fail again!


by Friedrich von Schiller

Wisdom And Prudence

 Wouldst thou, my friend, mount up to the highest summit of wisdom,
Be not deterred by the fear, prudence thy course may deride
That shortsighted one sees but the bank that from thee is flying,
Not the one which ere long thou wilt attain with bold flight.


by Emily Dickinson

Angels in the early morning

 Angels, in the early morning
May be seen the Dews among,
Stooping -- plucking -- smiling -- flying --
Do the Buds to them belong?

Angels, when the sun is hottest
May be seen the sands among,
Stooping -- plucking -- sighing -- flying --
Parched the flowers they bear along.


by Elizabeth Bishop

Sonnet (1979)

 Caught -- the bubble
in the spirit level,
a creature divided;
and the compass needle
wobbling and wavering,
undecided.
Freed -- the broken
thermometer's mercury
running away;
and the rainbow-bird
from the narrow bevel
of the empty mirror,
flying wherever
it feels like, gay!


by Wang Wei

Lily Magnolia Enclosure

 Autumn hill gather surplus shine 
Fly bird chase before companion. 
Colour green moment bright, 
Sunset mist no fixed place. 


The autumn hill gathers remaining light, 
A flying bird chases its companion before. 
The green colour is momentarily bright, 
Sunset mist has no fixed place.


by Robert Burns

279. Epigram on Francis Grose the Antiquary

 THE DEVIL got notice that Grose was a-dying
So whip! at the summons, old Satan came flying;
But when he approached where poor Francis lay moaning,
And saw each bed-post with its burthen a-groaning,
Astonish’d, confounded, cries Satan—“By G—,
I’ll want him, ere I take such a damnable load!”


by Walt Whitman

Ship Starting The.

 LO! the unbounded sea! 
On its breast a Ship starting, spreading all her sails—an ample Ship,
 carrying even her moonsails; 
The pennant is flying aloft, as she speeds, she speeds so stately—below,
 emulous waves press forward, 
They surround the Ship, with shining curving motions, and foam.


by Dejan Stojanovic

An Island in the Mind

Dream, flying out from the head
Becomes a bird flying over the sea; 

The Sun, sprouting from the sea
Makes the sea alive and blue; 

The flying dream that hovers in space
Becomes an island in the sea; 

The island—the dream emanating from the head, 
The bird, the air, the sea, and the light. 


by Sara Teasdale

Come

 Come, when the pale moon like a petal
 Floats in the pearly dusk of spring,
Come with arms outstretched to take me,
 Come with lips pursed up to cling.

Come, for life is a frail moth flying,
 Caught in the web of the years that pass,
And soon we two, so warm and eager,
 Will be as the gray stones in the grass.


by William Shakespeare

Dirge of the Three Queens

 URNS and odours bring away! 
 Vapours, sighs, darken the day! 
Our dole more deadly looks than dying; 
 Balms and gums and heavy cheers, 
 Sacred vials fill'd with tears, 
And clamours through the wild air flying! 

 Come, all sad and solemn shows, 
 That are quick-eyed Pleasure's foes! 
 We convent naught else but woes.


by Spike Milligan

Summer Dawn

 My sleeping children are still flying dreams 
in their goose-down heads. 
The lush of the river singing morning songs 
Fish watch their ceilings turn sun-white. 
The grey-green pike lances upstream 
Kale, like mermaid's hair 
points the water's drift. 
All is morning hush 
and bird beautiful. 

I only, 
I didn't have flu.


by Carl Sandburg

Places

 ROSES and gold
For you today,
And the flash of flying flags.

 I will have
 Ashes,
 Dust in my hair,
Crushes of hoofs.

Your name
Fills the mouth
Of rich man and poor.
 Women bring
Armfuls of flowers
And throw on you.

 I go hungry
 Down in dreams
 And loneliness,
 Across the rain
 To slashed hills
Where men wait and hope for me.


by Carl Sandburg

Laughing Blue Steel

 TWO fishes swimming in the sea,
Two birds flying in the air,
Two chisels on an anvil—maybe.
Beaten, hammered, laughing blue steel to each other—maybe.
Sure I would rather be a chisel with you than a fish.
Sure I would rather be a chisel with you than a bird.
Take these two chisel-pals, O God.
Take ‘em and beat ‘em, hammer ‘em, hear ‘em laugh.


by Anna Akhmatova

Why Is This Age Worse...?

 Why is this age worse than earlier ages?
In a stupor of grief and dread
have we not fingered the foulest wounds
and left them unhealed by our hands?

In the west the falling light still glows,
and the clustered housetops glitter in the sun,
but here Death is already chalking the doors with crosses,
and calling the ravens, and the ravens are flying in.


by David Herbert Lawrence

Patience

 A wind comes from the north
Blowing little flocks of birds 
Like spray across the town, 
And a train, roaring forth, 
Rushes stampeding down
With cries and flying curds
Of steam, out of the darkening north.

Whither I turn and set 
Like a needle steadfastly,
Waiting ever to get
The news that she is free;
But ever fixed, as yet, 
To the lode of her agony.


by Vasko Popa

Far Within Us #1

 We raise our arms
The street climbs into the sky
We lower our eyes
The roofs go down into the earth

From every pain
We do not mention
Grows a chestnut tree
That stays mysterious behind us

From every hope
We cherish
Sprouts a star
That moves unreachable before us

Can you hear a bullet
Flying about our heads
Can you hear a bullet
Waiting to ambush our kiss


by Edgar Lee Masters

Franklin Jones

 If I could have lived another year
I could have finished my flying machine,
And become rich and famous.
Hence it is fitting the workman
Who tried to chisel a dove for me
Made it look more like a chicken.
For what is it all but being hatched,
And running about the yard,
To the day of the block?
Save that a man has an angel's brain,
And sees the ax from the first!


by James Joyce

Lightly Come or Lightly Go

 Lightly come or lightly go: 
Though thy heart presage thee woe, 
Vales and many a wasted sun, 
Oread let thy laughter run, 
Till the irreverent mountain air 
Ripple all thy flying hair. 

Lightly, lightly -- - ever so: 
Clouds that wrap the vales below 
At the hour of evenstar 
Lowliest attendants are; 
Love and laughter song-confessed 
When the heart is heaviest.


by Edna St Vincent Millay

Wild Swans

 I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over.
And what did I see I had not seen before?
Only a question less or a question more:
Nothing to match the flight of wild birds flying.
Tiresome heart, forever living and dying,
House without air, I leave you and lock your door.
Wild swans, come over the town, come over
The town again, trailing your legs and crying!


by Robert Louis Stevenson

The Swing

 How do you like to go up in a swing, 
Up in the air so blue? 
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing 
Ever a child can do! 

Up in the air and over the wall, 
Till I can see so wide, 
River and trees and cattle and all 
Over the countryside-- 

Till I look down on the garden green, 
Down on the roof so brown-- 
Up in the air I go flying again, 
Up in the air and down!


by Mother Goose

The Flying Pig


Dickory, dickory, dare,
The pig flew up in the air;
The man in brown soon brought
      him down,
          Dickory,
            dickory,
              dare.



by Robert Graves

The Beach

 Louder than gulls the little children scream 
Whom fathers haul into the jovial foam; 
But others fearlessly rush in, breast high, 
Laughing the salty water from their mouthes-- 
Heroes of the nursery. 

The horny boatman, who has seen whales 
And flying fishes, who has sailed as far 
As Demerara and the Ivory Coast, 
Will warn them, when they crowd to hear his tales, 
That every ocean smells of tar.


by Dorothy Parker

Victoria

 Dear dead Victoria
Rotted cosily;
In excelsis gloria,
And R. I. P.

And her shroud was buttoned neat,
And her bones were clean and round,
And her soul was at her feet
Like a bishop's marble hound.

Albert lay a-drying,
Lavishly arrayed,
With his soul out flying
Where his heart had stayed.

And there's some could tell you what land
His spirit walks serene
(But I've heard them say in Scotland
It's never been seen).


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