Short Poetry by Popular Famous Poets

 Poet
1 William Wordsworth
2 Oscar Wilde
3 William Shakespeare
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 William Butler Yeats
15 Alfred Lord Tennyson
16 Rudyard Kipling
17 Tupac Shakur
18 Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings
19 Charles Bukowski
20 Sandra Cisneros
21 Muhammad Ali
22 Alice Walker
23 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
24 Billy Collins
25 Sarojini Naidu
26 Christina Rossetti
27 Carol Ann Duffy
28 Edgar Allan Poe
29 John Donne
30 Ralph Waldo Emerson
31 Nikki Giovanni
32 John Keats
33 Raymond Carver
34 Ogden Nash
35 Lewis Carroll
36 Thomas Hardy
37 Mark Twain
38 Spike Milligan
39 Anne Sexton
40 Carl Sandburg
41 Alexander Pushkin
42 Elizabeth Barrett Browning
43 Percy Bysshe Shelley
44 Henry David Thoreau
45 Victor Hugo
46 Roger McGough
47 Sara Teasdale
48 George (Lord) Byron
49 Gary Soto
50 Gwendolyn Brooks

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Famous Short Leaving Poems

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

Other Short Poem Pages


Poems are below...


Leaving | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by Linda Pastan

To A Daughter Leaving Home

 When I taught you
at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.


by Alexander Pushkin

Morpheus

 Oh, Morpheus, give me joy till morning
For my forever painful love:
Just blow out candles' burning
And let my dreams in blessing move.
Let from my soul disappear The separation's sharp rebuke! And let me see that dear look, And let me hear voice that dear.
And when will vanish dark of night And you will free my eyes at leaving, Oh, if my heart would have a right To lose its love till dark of evening!


by Anna Akhmatova

You Will Hear Thunder

 You will hear thunder and remember me,
And think: she wanted storms.
The rim Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson, And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.
That day in Moscow, it will all come true, when, for the last time, I take my leave, And hasten to the heights that I have longed for, Leaving my shadow still to be with you.


by Emily Dickinson

Dying! To be afraid of thee

 Dying! To be afraid of thee
One must to thine Artillery
Have left exposed a Friend --
Than thine old Arrow is a Shot
Delivered straighter to the Heart
The leaving Love behind.
Not for itself, the Dust is shy, But, enemy, Beloved be Thy Batteries divorce.
Fight sternly in a Dying eye Two Armies, Love and Certainty And Love and the Reverse.


by Stephen Crane

Should the wide world roll away

 Should the wide world roll away,
Leaving black terror,
Limitless night,
Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand
Would be to me essential,
If thou and thy white arms were there,
And the fall to doom a long way.


by Richard Brautigan

The Moon Versus Us Ever Sleeping Together Again

 I sit here, an arch-villain of romance, 
thinking about you.
Gee, I'm sorry I made you unhappy, but there was nothing I could do about it because I have to be free.
Perhaps everything would have been different if you had stayed at the table or asked me to go out with you to look at the moon, instead of getting up and leaving me alone with her.


by Sir Walter Scott

On Leaving Mrs. Browns Lodgings

 So goodbye, Mrs.
Brown, I am going out of town, Over dale, over down, Where bugs bite not, Where lodgers fight not, Where below your chairmen drink not, Where beside your gutters stink not; But all is fresh and clean and gay, And merry lambkins sport and play, And they toss with rakes uncommonly short hay, Which looks as if it had been sown only the other day, And where oats are twenty-five shillings a boll, they say; But all's one for that, since I must and will away.


by Charles Bukowski

As The Poems Go

 as the poems go into the thousands you
realize that you've created very
little.
it comes down to the rain, the sunlight, the traffic, the nights and the days of the years, the faces.
leaving this will be easier than living it, typing one more line now as a man plays a piano through the radio, the best writers have said very little and the worst, far too much.
from ONTHEBUS - 1992


by Anna Akhmatova

Thunder

 There will be thunder then.
Remember me.
Say ‘ She asked for storms.
’ The entire world will turn the colour of crimson stone, and your heart, as then, will turn to fire.
That day, in Moscow, a true prophecy, when for the last time I say goodbye, soaring to the heavens that I longed to see, leaving my shadow here in the sky.


by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi

Come, Come, Whoever You Are

Wonderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.
It doesn’t matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow

a thousand times Come, yet again, come, come.

 

- Rumi Homepage

 


by Joseph Brodsky

Stone Villages

The stone-built villages of England.
A cathedral bottled in a pub window.
Cows dispersed across fields.
Monuments to kings.
A man in a moth-eaten suit sees a train off heading like everything here for the sea smiles at his daughter leaving for the East.
A whistle blows.
And the endless sky over the tiles grows bluer as swelling birdsong fills.
And the clearer the song is heard the smaller the bird.


by Emily Dickinson

Its easy to invent a Life --

 It's easy to invent a Life --
God does it -- every Day --
Creation -- but the Gambol
Of His Authority --

It's easy to efface it --
The thrifty Deity
Could scarce afford Eternity
To Spontaneity --

The Perished Patterns murmur --
But His Perturbless Plan
Proceed -- inserting Here -- a Sun --
There -- leaving out a Man --


by Li Po

Leaving White King City

 White King City I left at dawn
in the morning-glow of the clouds;
The thousand miles to Chiang-ling
we sailed in a single day.
On either shore the gibbons' chatter sounded without pause While my light boat skimmed past ten thousand sombre crags.


by Rabindranath Tagore

Lovers Gifts XLVII: The Road Is

 The road is my wedded companion.
She speaks to me under my feet all day, she sings to my dreams all night.
My meeting with her had no beginning, it begins endlessly at each daybreak, renewing its summer in fresh flowers and songs, and her every new kiss is the first kiss to me.
The road and I are lovers.
I change my dress for her night after night, leaving the tattered cumber of the old in the wayside inns when the day dawns.


by Claude McKay

Absence

 Your words dropped into my heart like pebbles into a pool, 
Rippling around my breast and leaving it melting cool.
Your kisses fell sharp on my flesh like dawn-dews from the limb, Of a fruit-filled lemon tree when the day is young and dim.
But a silence vasty-deep, oh deeper than all these ties Now, through the menacing miles, brooding between us lies.
And more than the songs I sing, I await your written word, To stir my fluent blood as never your presence stirred.


by Robert Graves

The Snapped Thread

 Desire, first, by a natural miracle
United bodies, united hearts, blazed beauty;
Transcended bodies, transcended hearts.
Two souls, now unalterably one In whole love always and for ever, Soar out of twilight, through upper air, Let fall their sensous burden.
Is it kind, though, is it honest even, To consort with none but spirits- Leaving true-wedded hearts like ours In enforced night-long separation, Each to its random bodily inclination, The thread of miracle snapped?


by Rainer Maria Rilke

Slumber Song

 Some day, if I should ever lose you,
will you be able then to go to sleep
without me softly whispering above you
like night air stirring in the linden tree?

Without my waking here and watching
and saying words as tender as eyelids
that come to rest weightlessly upon your breast,
upon your sleeping limbs, upon your lips?

Without my touching you and leaving you
alone with what is yours, like a summer garden
that is overflowing with masses
of melissa and star-anise?


by Hermann Hesse

A Swarm Of Gnats

 Many thousand glittering motes
Crowd forward greedily together
In trembling circles.
Extravagantly carousing away For a whole hour rapidly vanishing, They rave, delirious, a shrill whir, Shivering with joy against death.
While kingdoms, sunk into ruin, Whose thrones, heavy with gold, instantly scattered Into night and legend, without leaving a trace, Have never known so fierce a dancing.


by Emily Dickinson

That is solemn we have ended

 That is solemn we have ended
Be it but a Play
Or a Glee among the Garret
Or a Holiday

Or a leaving Home, or later,
Parting with a World
We have understood for better
Still to be explained.


by Rabindranath Tagore

Passing Breeze

 Yes, I know, this is nothing but thy love, 
O beloved of my heart---this golden light that dances upon the leaves, 
these idle clouds sailing across the sky, 
this passing breeze leaving its coolness upon my forehead.
The morning light has flooded my eyes---this is thy message to my heart.
Thy face is bent from above, thy eyes look down on my eyes, and my heart has touched thy feet.


by Omar Khayyam

'Tis but a day we sojourn here below,

'Tis but a day we sojourn here below,
And all the gain we get is grief and woe,
And then, leaving life's riddles all unsolved,
And burdened with regrets, we have to go.


by Jean Toomer

Evening Song

 Full moon rising on the waters of my heart,
Lakes and moon and fires,
Cloine tires,
Holding her lips apart.
Promises of slumber leaving shore to charm the moon, Miracle made vesper-keeps, Cloine sleeps, And I'll be sleeping soon.
Cloine, curled like the sleepy waters whtere the moonwaves start, Radiant, resplendently she gleams, Cloine dreams, Lips pressed against my heart.


by Hugo Williams

Unobtainable

 Whether it was putting in an extra beat, 
or leaving one out, I couldn't tell.
My heart seemed to have forgotten everything it ever knew about timing and co-ordination in its efforts to get through to someone on the other side of a wall.
As I lay in bed, I could hear it hammering away inside my pillow, being answered now and then by a distant guitar-note of bedsprings, pausing for a moment, as if listening, Then hurrying on as before.


by Emily Dickinson

She sped as Petals of a Rose

 She sped as Petals of a Rose
Offended by the Wind --
A frail Aristocrat of Time
Indemnity to find --
Leaving on nature -- a Default
As Cricket or as Bee --
But Andes in the Bosoms where
She had begun to lie --


by Omar Khayyam

Alas! my wasted life has gone to wrack!

Alas! my wasted life has gone to wrack!
What with forbidden meats, and lusts, alack!
And leaving undone what 'twas right to do,
And doing wrong, my face is very black!