Short Poetry by Popular Famous Poets

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

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Famous Short Angel Poems

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

Other Short Poem Pages


Poems are below...


Angel | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Number 8

 It was a face which darkness could kill
     in an instant
a face as easily hurt
   by laughter or light

 'We think differently at night'
     she told me once
lying back languidly

   And she would quote Cocteau

'I feel there is an angel in me' she'd say
    'whom I am constantly shocking'

 Then she would smile and look away 
 light a cigarette for me
    sigh and rise

and stretch
 her sweet anatomy

   let fall a stocking


by Allen Ginsberg

A Western Ballad

 When I died, love, when I died
my heart was broken in your care;
I never suffered love so fair
as now I suffer and abide
when I died, love, when I died.
When I died, love, when I died I wearied in an endless maze that men have walked for centuries, as endless as the gate was wide when I died, love, when I died.
When I died, love, when I died there was a war in the upper air: all that happens, happens there; there was an angel by my side when I died, love, when I died.


by Emily Dickinson

A Cloud withdrew from the Sky

 A Cloud withdrew from the Sky
Superior Glory be
But that Cloud and its Auxiliaries
Are forever lost to me

Had I but further scanned
Had I secured the Glow
In an Hermetic Memory
It had availed me now.
Never to pass the Angel With a glance and a Bow Till I am firm in Heaven Is my intention now.


by Lisa Zaran

Leaves

 I went looking for God 
but I found you instead.
Bad luck or destiny, you decide.
Buried in the muck, the soot of the city, sorrow for an appetite, devil on your left shoulder, angel on your right.
You, with your thorny rhythms and tragic, midnight melodies.
My heart never tried to commit suicide before.
Originally published in Literati Magazine, Winter 2005 Copyright © Lisa Zaran, 2005


by Emily Dickinson

A little East of Jordan

 A little East of Jordan,
Evangelists record,
A Gymnast and an Angel
Did wrestle long and hard --

Till morning touching mountain --
And Jacob, waxing strong,
The Angel begged permission
To Breakfast -- to return --

Not so, said cunning Jacob!
"I will not let thee go
Except thou bless me" -- Stranger!
The which acceded to --

Light swung the silver fleeces
"Peniel" Hills beyond,
And the bewildered Gymnast
Found he had worsted God!


by Herman Melville

Art

 In placid hours well-pleased we dream 
Of many a brave unbodied scheme.
But form to lend, pulsed life create, What unlike things must meet and mate: A flame to melt--a wind to freeze; Sad patience--joyous energies; Humility--yet pride and scorn; Instinct and study; love and hate; Audacity--reverence.
These must mate, And fuse with Jacob's mystic heart, To wrestle with the angel--Art.


by Regina Derieva

All My Life

 All my life 
I sought 
an angel.
And he appeared in order to say: "I am no angel !"


by Federico García Lorca

The Weeping

 I have shut my windows.
I do not want to hear the weeping.
But from behind the grey walls.
Nothing is heard but the weeping.
There are few angels that sing.
There are few dogs that bark.
A thousand violins fit in the palm of the hand.
But the weeping is an immense angel.
The weeping is an immense dog.
The weeping is an immense violin.
Tears strangle the wind.
Nothing is heard but the weeping.


by Stephen Crane

It was wrong to do this said the angel

 "It was wrong to do this," said the angel.
"You should live like a flower, Holding malice like a puppy, Waging war like a lambkin.
" "Not so," quoth the man Who had no fear of spirits; "It is only wrong for angels Who can live like the flowers, Holding malice like the puppies, Waging war like the lambkins.
"


by Charles Baudelaire

Music

 Take me by the hand;
it's so easy for you, Angel,
for you are the road
even while being immobile.
You see, I'm scared no one here will look for me again; I couldn't make use of whatever was given, so they abandoned me.
At first the solitude charmed me like a prelude, but so much music wounded me.


by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

Affection

 The earth that made the rose, 
She also is thy mother, and not I.
The flame wherewith thy maiden spirit glows Was lighted at no hearth that I sit by.
I am as far below as heaven above thee.
Were I thine angel, more I could not love thee.
Bid me defend thee! Thy danger over-human strength shall lend me, A hand of iron and a heart of steel, To strike, to wound, to slay, and not to feel.
But if you chide me, I am a weak, defenceless child beside thee.


by Robert Burns

471. Epigram on Jessy Staig's recovery

 MAXWELL, if merit here you crave,
 That merit I deny;
You save fair Jessie from the grave!—
 An Angel could not die!


by Emily Bronte

If grief for grief can touch thee

 If grief for grief can touch thee, 
If answering woe for woe, 
If any truth can melt thee 
Come to me now!

I cannot be more lonely, 
More drear I cannot be! 
My worn heart beats so wildly 
'Twill break for thee--

And when the world despises-- 
When Heaven repels my prayer-- 
Will not mine angel comfort? 
Mine idol hear?

Yes, by the tears I'm poured, 
By all my hours of pain 
O I shall surely win thee, 
Beloved, again!


by Rainer Maria Rilke

What Survives

 Who says that all must vanish?
Who knows, perhaps the flight
of the bird you wound remains,
and perhaps flowers survive
caresses in us, in their ground.
It isn't the gesture that lasts, but it dresses you again in gold armor --from breast to knees-- and the battle was so pure an Angel wears it after you.


by Victor Hugo

THE PITY OF THE ANGELS

 ("Un Ange vit un jour.") 
 
 {LA PITIÉ SUPREME VIII., 1881.} 


 When an angel of kindness 
 Saw, doomed to the dark, 
 Men framed in his likeness, 
 He sought for a spark— 
 Stray gem of God's glory 
 That shines so serene— 
 And, falling like lark, 
 To brighten our story, 
 Pure Pity was seen. 


 





by Omar Khayyam

Hear from the spirit world this mystery:

Hear from the spirit world this mystery:
Creation is summed up, O man, in thee;
Angel and demon, man and beast art thou,
Yea, thou art all thou dost appear to be!


by Robert Seymour Bridges

Spirits

 Angel spirits of sleep, 
White-robed, with silver hair, 
In your meadows fair, 
Where the willows weep, 
And the sad moonbeam 
On the gliding stream 
Writes her scatter'd dream: 

Angel spirits of sleep, 
Dancing to the weir 
In the hollow roar 
Of its waters deep; 
Know ye how men say 
That ye haunt no more 
Isle and grassy shore 
With your moonlit play; 
That ye dance not here, 
White-robed spirits of sleep, 
All the summer night 
Threading dances light?


by Charles Simic

Coal

 Dismembered angel
In whose heart the earth is still on fire,
The moon still has not been split-off;
Here is the message
Your long night announces:

Everything my eye encompasses this instant:
This fire, the cupped-hand, this window
With trees and miles of snow beyond it,
Even this thought, this poem,
Will be compressed
Into a lump of your sleep
For some other awakening.


by Paul Laurence Dunbar

DAWN

An angel, robed in spotless white,
Bent down and kissed the sleeping Night.
Night woke to blush; the sprite was gone.
Men saw the blush and called it Dawn.


by Anne Bronte

The Penitent

 I mourn with thee and yet rejoice
That thou shouldst sorrow so;
With Angel choirs I join my voice
To bless the sinner's woe.
Though friends and kindred turn away And laugh thy grief to scorn, I hear the great Redeemer say 'Blessed are ye that mourn'.
Hold on thy course nor deem it strange That earthly cords are riven.
Man may lament the wondrous change But 'There is joy in Heaven'!


by Philip Larkin

Is It For Now Or For Always

 Is it for now or for always,
The world hangs on a stalk?
Is it a trick or a trysting-place,
The woods we have found to walk?

Is it a mirage or miracle,
Your lips that lift at mine:
And the suns like a juggler's juggling-balls,
Are they a sham or a sign?

Shine out, my sudden angel,
Break fear with breast and brow,
I take you now and for always,
For always is always now.


by George William Russell

Dream Love

 I DID not deem it half so sweet
To feel thy gentle hand,
As in a dream thy soul to greet
Across wide leagues of land.
Untouched more near to draw to you Where, amid radiant skies, Glimmered thy plumes of iris hue, My Bird of Paradise.
Let me dream only with my heart, Love first, and after see: Know thy diviner counterpart Before I kneel to thee.
So in thy motions all expressed Thy angel I may view: I shall not on thy beauty rest, But beauty’s self in you.


by Paul Laurence Dunbar

INSPIRATION

At the golden gate of song
Stood I, knocking all day long,
But the Angel, calm and cold,
Still refused and bade me, "Hold."
Then a breath of soft perfume,
Then a light within the gloom;
Thou, Love, camest to my side,
And the gates flew open wide.
Long I dwelt in this domain,
Knew no sorrow, grief, or pain;
Now you bid me forth and free,
Will you shut these gates on me?[Pg 180]


by Emily Dickinson

No Man can compass a Despair

 No Man can compass a Despair --
As round a Goalless Road
No faster than a Mile at once
The Traveller proceed --

Unconscious of the Width --
Unconscious that the Sun
Be setting on His progress --
So accurate the One

At estimating Pain --
Whose own -- has just begun --
His ignorance -- the Angel
That pilot Him along --


by Omar Khayyam

The flowers are in blossom, O cupbearer! bring wine

The flowers are in blossom, O cupbearer! bring wine.
Leave thy acts of worship, O cupbearer! Ere the angel
of death put a watch upon us, come, and with a cup of
ruby wine in hand, let us rejoice while yet there are
some days with the sweet presence of the friend [the
Divinity].







...