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by
Kobayashi Issa
Blossoms at night
Blossoms at night,
and the faces of people
moved by music.
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by
Richard Brautigan
Just Because
Just because
people love your mind,
doesn't mean they
have to have
your body,
too.
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by
Emily Dickinson
Her sovereign People
Her sovereign People
Nature knows as well
And is as fond of signifying
As if fallible --
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by
Kobayashi Issa
Don't know about the people
Approaching my village:
Don't know about the people,
but all the scarecrows
are crooked.
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by
Carl Sandburg
My People
MY people are gray,
pigeon gray, dawn gray, storm gray.
I call them beautiful,
and I wonder where they are going.
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by
Hilaire Belloc
The Elephant
When people call this beast to mind,
They marvel more and more
At such a little tail behind,
So large a trunk before.
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by
Richard Brautigan
Donner Party
Forsaken, fucking in the cold,
eating each other, lost
runny noses,
complaining all the time
like so many
people
that we know
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by
Edward Lear
There was a Young Lady Whose Eyes
There was a young lady whose eyes,
were unique as to colour and size;
When she opened them wide,
people all turned aside,
and started away in surprise.
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by
Stevie Smith
In The Night
I longed for companionship rather,
But my companions I always wished farther.
And now in the desolate night
I think only of the people i should like to bite.
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by
Hilaire Belloc
The Telephone
To-night in million-voiced London I
Was lonely as the million-pointed sky
Until your single voice. Ah! So the sun
Peoples all heaven, although he be but one.
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by
Carl Sandburg
Cartoon
I AM making a Cartoon of a Woman. She is the People.
She is the Great Dirty Mother.
And Many Children hang on her Apron, crawl at her
Feet, snuggle at her Breasts.
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by
Robert Frost
Immigrants
No ship of all that under sail or steam
Have gathered people to us more and more
But Pilgrim-manned the Mayflower in a dream
Has been her anxious convoy in to shore.
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by
Spike Milligan
Why?
American Detectives
Never remove their hats
When investigating murders
In other people's flats.
P.S. Chinese Tecs
Are far more dreaded!
And they always appear
Bare-headed!
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by
Emily Dickinson
I noticed People disappeared
I noticed People disappeared
When but a little child --
Supposed they visited remote
Or settled Regions wild --
But did because they died
A Fact withheld the little child --
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by
Vachel Lindsay
A Prayer to All the Dead among Mine Own People
Are these your presences, my clan from Heaven?
Are these your hands upon my wounded soul?
Mine own, mine own, blood of my blood be with me,
Fly by my path till you have made me whole!
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by
Emily Dickinson
The Flower must not blame the Bee
The Flower must not blame the Bee --
That seeketh his felicity
Too often at her door --
But teach the Footman from Vevay --
Mistress is "not at home" -- to say --
To people -- any more!
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by
Richard Brautigan
Mating Saliva
A girl in a green mini-
skirt, not very pretty, walks
down the street.
A businessman stops, turns
to stare at her ass
that looks like a moldy
refrigerator.
There are now 200,000,000 people
in America.
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by
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
EPITAPH.
As a boy, reserved and naughty;
As a youth, a coxcomb and haughty;
As a man, for action inclined;
As a greybeard, fickle in mind.--
Upon thy grave will people read:
This was a very man, indeed!
1815.*
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by
Spike Milligan
Feelings
There must be a wound!
No one can be this hurt
and not bleed.
How could she injure me so?
No marks
No bruise
Worse!
People say 'My, you're looking well'
.....God help me!
She's mummified me -
ALIVE!
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by
Ogden Nash
Old Men
People expect old men to die,
They do not really mourn old men.
Old men are different. People look
At them with eyes that wonder when…
People watch with unshocked eyes;
But the old men know when an old man dies.
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by
Emily Dickinson
A South Wind -- has a pathos
A South Wind -- has a pathos
Of individual Voice --
As One detect on Landings
An Emigrant's address.
A Hint of Ports and Peoples --
And much not understood --
The fairer -- for the farness --
And for the foreignhood.
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by
Stephen Crane
Two or three angels
Two or three angels
Came near to the earth.
They saw a fat church.
Little black streams of people
Came and went in continually.
And the angels were puzzled
To know why the people went thus,
And why they stayed so long within.
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by
Stevie Smith
Conviction (iv)
I like to get off with people,
I like to lie in their arms
I like to be held and lightly kissed,
Safe from all alarms.
I like to laugh and be happy
With a beautiful kiss,
I tell you, in all the world
There is no bliss like this.
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by
G K Chesterton
An Answer to Frances Cornford
Why do you rush through the fields in trains,
Guessing so much and so much.
Why do you flash through the flowery meads,
Fat-head poet that nobody reads;
And why do you know such a frightful lot
About people in gloves and such?
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by
Emily Dickinson
A Field of Stubble, lying sere
A Field of Stubble, lying sere
Beneath the second Sun --
Its Toils to Brindled People thrust --
Its Triumphs -- to the Bin --
Accosted by a timid Bird
Irresolute of Alms --
Is often seen -- but seldom felt,
On our New England Farms --
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