CreationEarth Nature Photos

Short Poetry by Popular Famous Poets

 Poet
1 William Wordsworth
2 Emily Dickinson
3 William Shakespeare
4 Maya Angelou
5 Langston Hughes
6 Robert Frost
7 Walt Whitman
8 Rabindranath Tagore
9 Shel Silverstein
10 William Blake
11 Pablo Neruda
12 Sylvia Plath
13 Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings
14 William Butler Yeats
15 Tupac Shakur
16 Oscar Wilde
17 Rudyard Kipling
18 Sandra Cisneros
19 Alfred Lord Tennyson
20 Alice Walker
21 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
22 Billy Collins
23 Carol Ann Duffy
24 Christina Rossetti
25 Charles Bukowski
26 Edgar Allan Poe
27 Sarojini Naidu
28 John Donne
29 Ralph Waldo Emerson
30 Nikki Giovanni
31 John Keats
32 Raymond Carver
33 Mark Twain
34 Thomas Hardy
35 Anne Sexton
36 Lewis Carroll
37 Elizabeth Barrett Browning
38 Gary Soto
39 Carl Sandburg
40 Alexander Pushkin
41 Gwendolyn Brooks
42 Henry David Thoreau
43 George (Lord) Byron
44 Spike Milligan
45 Margaret Atwood
46 Muhammad Ali
47 Roger McGough
48 Sara Teasdale
49 Jane Austen
50 Allen Ginsberg
Submit Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Famous Short Tiger Poems

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

Other Short Poem Pages

Tiger | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by Kobayashi Issa

How much

 How much
are you enjying yourself,
tiger moth?


by Omar Khayyam

Thy passion, man, resembles in all things a house dog

Thy passion, man, resembles in all things a house dog
which never leaves his kennel. It has the slyness of the
fox, it lies low like a hare, and to the rage of the tiger
adds the voracity of a wolf.


by Hilaire Belloc

The Tiger

 The tiger, on the other hand,
Is kittenish and mild,
And makes a pretty playfellow
For any little child.
And mothers of large families (Who claim to common sense) Will find a tiger well repays The trouble and expense.


by Hilaire Belloc

Tiger The

 The tiger, on the other hand,
Is kittenish and mild,
And makes a pretty playfellow
For any little child.
And mothers of large families (Who claim to common sense) Will find a tiger well repays The trouble and expense.


by Amy Levy

Oh Is It Love?

 O is it Love or is it Fame,
This thing for which I sigh?
Or has it then no earthly name
For men to call it by?

I know not what can ease my pains,
Nor what it is I wish;
The passion at my heart-strings strains
Like a tiger in a leash.


by Judith Skillman

Youve given me a weapon

 Poem by Anne-Marie Derése, translated by Judith Skillman.
You've given me a weapon.
you've flung your words into the human herd like stones.
The wounds were good to lick.
You have woken the tiger.
You've given as one takes.


by Emily Dickinson

A Dying Tiger -- moaned for Drink --

 A Dying Tiger -- moaned for Drink --
I hunted all the Sand --
I caught the Dripping of a Rock
And bore it in my Hand --

His Mighty Balls -- in death were thick --
But searching -- I could see
A Vision on the Retina
Of Water -- and of me --

'Twas not my blame -- who sped too slow --
'Twas not his blame -- who died
While I was reaching him --
But 'twas -- the fact that He was dead --


by Emily Dickinson

As the Starved Maelstrom laps the Navies

 As the Starved Maelstrom laps the Navies
As the Vulture teased
Forces the Broods in lonely Valleys
As the Tiger eased

By but a Crumb of Blood, fasts Scarlet
Till he meet a Man
Dainty adorned with Veins and Tissues
And partakes -- his Tongue

Cooled by the Morsel for a moment
Grows a fiercer thing
Till he esteem his Dates and Cocoa
A Nutrition mean

I, of a finer Famine
Deem my Supper dry
For but a Berry of Domingo
And a Torrid Eye.


by Siegfried Sassoon

In Me Past Present Future meet

 In me, past, present, future meet
To hold long chiding conference.
My lusts usurp the present tense And strangle Reason in his seat.
My loves leap through the future’s fence To dance with dream-enfranchised feet.
In me the cave-man clasps the seer, And garlanded Apollo goes Chanting to Abraham’s deaf ear.
In me the tiger sniffs the rose.
Look in my heart, kind friends, and tremble, Since there your elements assemble.


by Carl Sandburg

Fight

 RED drips from my chin where I have been eating.
Not all the blood, nowhere near all, is wiped off my mouth.
Clots of red mess my hair And the tiger, the buffalo, know how.
I was a killer.
Yes, I am a killer.
I come from killing.
I go to more.
I drive red joy ahead of me from killing.
Red gluts and red hungers run in the smears and juices of my inside bones: The child cries for a suck mother and I cry for war.


by John Keats

Wheres the Poet?

 Where's the Poet? show him! show him,
Muses nine! that I may know him.
'Tis the man who with a man Is an equal, be he King, Or poorest of the beggar-clan Or any other wonderous thing A man may be 'twixt ape and Plato; 'Tis the man who with a bird, Wren or Eagle, finds his way to All its instincts; he hath heard The Lion's roaring, and can tell What his horny throat expresseth, And to him the Tiger's yell Come articulate and presseth Or his ear like mother-tongue.