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 Sarojini Naidu
23 Sandra Cisneros
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 Percy Bysshe Shelley
42 Alexander Pushkin
43 Henry David Thoreau
44 Thunchaththu Ramanujan Ezhuthachan
45 Elizabeth Barrett Browning
46 Roger McGough
47 Sara Teasdale
48 Victor Hugo
49 George (Lord) Byron
50 Gary Soto

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Famous Short Animal Poems

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

Other Short Poem Pages


Poems are below...


Animal | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by Linda Pastan

The New Dog

 Into the gravity of my life,
the serious ceremonies
of polish and paper
and pen, has come

this manic animal
whose innocent disruptions
make nonsense
of my old simplicities--

as if I needed him
to prove again that after
all the careful planning,
anything can happen.


by Hilaire Belloc

The Frog

 Be kind and tender to the Frog,
And do not call him names,
As "Slimy skin," or "Polly-wog,"
Or likewise "Ugly James,"
Or "Gap-a-grin," or "Toad-gone-wrong,"
Or "Bill Bandy-knees":
The Frog is justly sensitive
To epithets like these.
No animal will more repay A treatment kind and fair; At least so lonely people say Who keep a frog (and, by the way, They are extremely rare).


by Hilaire Belloc

Frog The

 Be kind and tender to the Frog,
And do not call him names,
As "Slimy skin," or "Polly-wog,"
Or likewise "Ugly James,"
Or "Gap-a-grin," or "Toad-gone-wrong,"
Or "Bill Bandy-knees":
The Frog is justly sensitive
To epithets like these.
No animal will more repay A treatment kind and fair; At least so lonely people say Who keep a frog (and, by the way, They are extremely rare).


by Jane Kenyon

February: Thinking of Flowers

 Now wind torments the field,
turning the white surface back
on itself, back and back on itself,
like an animal licking a wound.
Nothing but white--the air, the light; only one brown milkweed pod bobbing in the gully, smallest brown boat on the immense tide.
A single green sprouting thing would restore me.
.
.
.
Then think of the tall delphinium, swaying, or the bee when it comes to the tongue of the burgundy lily.


by Linda Pastan

What We Want

 What we want
is never simple.
We move among the things we thought we wanted: a face, a room, an open book and these things bear our names-- now they want us.
But what we want appears in dreams, wearing disguises.
We fall past, holding out our arms and in the morning our arms ache.
We don't remember the dream, but the dream remembers us.
It is there all day as an animal is there under the table, as the stars are there even in full sun.


by Walt Whitman

Beginning my Studies

 BEGINNING my studies, the first step pleas’d me so much, 
The mere fact, consciousness—these forms—the power of motion, 
The least insect or animal—the senses—eyesight—love; 
The first step, I say, aw’d me and pleas’d me so much, 
I have hardly gone, and hardly wish’d to go, any farther,
But stop and loiter all the time, to sing it in extatic songs.


by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi

A Stone I died

~

A stone I died and rose again a plant; A plant I died and rose an animal; I died an animal and was born a man.
Why should I fear? What have I lost by death?


by Ezra Pound

Meditatio

 When I carefully consider the curious habits of dogs
I am compelled to conclude
That man is the superior animal.
When I consider the curious habits of man I confess, my friend, I am puzzled.


by Delmore Schwartz

O Love Sweet Animal

 O Love, dark animal,
With your strangeness go
Like any freak or clown:
Appease tee child in her
Because she is alone
Many years ago
Terrified by a look
Which was not meant for her.
Brush your heavy fur Against her, long and slow Stare at her like a book, Her interests being such No one can look too much.
Tell her how you know Nothing can be taken Which has not been given: For you time is forgiven: Informed by hell and heaven You are not mistaken


by Judith Skillman

Visage volè loiseau

 Poem by Anne-Marie Derése

Je ne sais qui tu caches
sous ton visage inventè,
ton visage volè l'oiseau,
emprisonnè de cendre rouge.
Je vais t'aimer comme on meurt.
Je vais te garder pour les annèes venir.
Tu seras si apprivoisè, si incroyable, mon ètrange animal, avec tes lévres ouverte sur un sourire perdu.
Je boirai ton haleine et je saurai qui tu caches.


by Delmore Schwartz

Yeats Died Saturday In France

 Yeats died Saturday in France.
Freedom from his animal Has come at last in alien Nice, His heart beat separate from his will: He knows at last the old abyss Which always faced his staring face.
No ability, no dignity Can fail him now who trained so long For the outrage of eternity, Teaching his heart to beat a song In which man's strict humanity, Erect as a soldier, became a tongue.


by Judith Skillman

Face Stolen From a Bird

 Poem by Anne-Marie Derése, translated by Judith Skillman.
I don't know who you're hiding behind your mask, your face stolen from a bird, imprisoned by red ashes.
I will love you the way one dies.
I will keep you for years to come, you will be so tame, so unbelievable, my strange animal, with your lips opening on a lost smile.
I'll drink your breath and I'll know who you are hiding.


by Omar Khayyam

This wine, which by its nature hath a multitude of

This wine, which by its nature hath a multitude of
forms, which now is animal and now is plant, can never
cease to be, for its imperishable self ordains a lasting
life though forms may disappear.


by Delmore Schwartz

What Is To Be Given

 What is to be given,
Is spirit, yet animal,
Colored, like heaven,
Blue, yellow, beautiful.
The blood is checkered by So many stains and wishes, Between it and the sky You could not choose, for riches.
Yet let me now be careful Not to give too much To one so shy and fearful For like a gun is touch.