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 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
23 Alice Walker
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 Simple Poems

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

Other Short Poem Pages


Poems are below...


Simple | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by Anna Akhmatova

I Dont Like Flowers..

I don't like flowers - they do remind me often
Of funerals, of weddings and of balls;
Their presence on tables for a dinner calls.
But sub-eternal roses' ever simple charm Which was my solace when I was a child, Has stayed - my heritage - a set of years behind, Like Mozart's ever-living music's hum.


by Dorothy Parker

For A Favorite Granddaughter

 Never love a simple lad,
Guard against a wise,
Shun a timid youth and sad,
Hide from haunted eyes.
Never hold your heart in pain For an evil-doer; Never flip it down the lane To a gifted wooer.
Never love a loving son, Nor a sheep astray; Gather up your skirts and run From a tender way.
Never give away a tear, Never toss a pine; Should you heed my words, my dear, You're no blood of mine!


by Emily Dickinson

A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!

 A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!
Your prayers, oh Passer by!
From such a common ball as this
Might date a Victory!
From marshallings as simple
The flags of nations swang.
Steady -- my soul: What issues Upon thine arrow hang!


by Emily Dickinson

A great Hope fell

 A great Hope fell
You heard no noise
The Ruin was within
Oh cunning wreck that told no tale
And let no Witness in

The mind was built for mighty Freight
For dread occasion planned
How often foundering at Sea
Ostensibly, on Land

A not admitting of the wound
Until it grew so wide
That all my Life had entered it
And there were troughs beside

A closing of the simple lid
That opened to the sun
Until the tender Carpenter
Perpetual nail it down --


by José Martí

Once I was sailing for fun (Simple Verses XII)

Once I was sailing for fun
On a lake of great allure,
Like gold the sun shone so pure,
And my soul more than the sun.
Then suddenly I could smell Before I saw at my feet, A foul fish, with death replete, At the bottom of the well


by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Poet

TO clothe the fiery thought 
In simple words succeeds  
For still the craft of genius is 
To mask a king in weeds.


by Wang Wei

A FARM-HOUSE ON THE WEI RIVER

In the slant of the sun on the country-side, 
Cattle and sheep trail home along the lane; 
And a rugged old man in a thatch door 
Leans on a staff and thinks of his son, the herdboy.
There are whirring pheasants? full wheat-ears, Silk-worms asleep, pared mulberry-leaves.
And the farmers, returning with hoes on their shoulders, Hail one another familiarly.
.
.
.
No wonder I long for the simple life And am sighing the old song, Oh, to go Back Again!


by Jack Prelutsky

Super Samson Simpson

 I am Super Samson Simpson,
I'm superlatively strong,
I like to carry elephants,
I do it all day long,
I pick up half a dozen
and hoist them in the air,
it's really somewhat simple,
for I have strength to spare.
My muscles are enormous, they bulge from top to toe, and when I carry elephants, they ripple to and fro, but I am not the strongest in the Simpson family, for when I carry elephants, my grandma carries me.


by Robert Burns

124. Motto prefixed to the Author's first Publication

 THE SIMPLE Bard, unbroke by rules of art,
He pours the wild effusions of the heart;
And if inspir’d ’tis Nature’s pow’rs inspire;
Her’s all the melting thrill, and her’s the kindling fire.


by Anna Akhmatova

Sunbeam

 I pray to the sunbeam from the window - 
It is pale, thin, straight.
Since morning I have been silent, And my heart - is split.
The copper on my washstand Has turned green, But the sunbeam plays on it So charmingly.
How innocent it is, and simple, In the evening calm, But to me in this deserted temple It's like a golden celebration, And a consolation.


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

One's-Self I Sing

 ONE’S-SELF I sing—a simple, separate Person; 
Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-masse.
Of Physiology from top to toe I sing; Not physiognomy alone, nor brain alone, is worthy for the muse—I say the Form complete is worthier far; The Female equally with the male I sing.
Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power, Cheerful—for freest action form’d, under the laws divine, The Modern Man I sing.


by Siegfried Sassoon

Suicide In The Trenches

 I knew a simple soldier boy 
Who grinned at life in empty joy, 
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark, 
And whistled early with the lark.
In winter trenches, cowed and glum, With crumps and lice and lack of rum, He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.
You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye Who cheer when soldier lads march by, Sneak home and pray you'll never know The hell where youth and laughter go.


by Emily Dickinson

This is my letter to the World

 This is my letter to the World
That never wrote to Me --
The simple News that Nature told --
With tender Majesty

Her Message is committed
To Hands I cannot see --
For love of Her -- Sweet -- countrymen --
Judge tenderly -- of Me


by Richard Brautigan

We Stopped at Perfect Days

 We stopped at perfect days
and got out of the car.
The wind glanced at her hair.
It was as simple as that.
I turned to say something--


by Robert Burns

123. Lines to an Old Sweetheart

 ONCE fondly lov’d, and still remember’d dear,
 Sweet early object of my youthful vows,
Accept this mark of friendship, warm, sincere,
 Friendship! ’tis all cold duty now allows.
And when you read the simple artless rhymes, One friendly sigh for him—he asks no more, Who, distant, burns in flaming torrid climes, Or haply lies beneath th’ Atlantic roar.


by Emily Dickinson

To venerate the simple days

 To venerate the simple days
Which lead the seasons by,
Needs but to remember
That from you or I,
They may take the trifle
Termed mortality!


by Robert Burns

148. To Miss Logan with Beattie's Poems

 AGAIN the silent wheels of time
 Their annual round have driven,
And you, tho’ scarce in maiden prime,
 Are so much nearer Heaven.
No gifts have I from Indian coasts The infant year to hail; I send you more than India boasts, In Edwin’s simple tale.
Our sex with guile, and faithless love, Is charg’d, perhaps too true; But may, dear maid, each lover prove An Edwin still to you.


by Donald Hall

Je Suis une table

 It has happened suddenly,
by surprise, in an arbor,
or while drinking good coffee,
after speaking, or before,

that I dumbly inhabit
a density; in language,
there is nothing to stop it,
for nothing retains an edge.
Simple ignorance presents, later, words for a function, but it is common pretense of speech, by a convention, and there is nothing at all but inner silence, nothing to relieve on principle now this intense thickening.


by Robert Graves

Not Dead

 Walking through trees to cool my heat and pain, 
I know that David’s with me here again.
All that is simple, happy, strong, he is.
Caressingly I stroke Rough bark of the friendly oak.
A brook goes bubbling by: the voice is his.
Turf burns with pleasant smoke; I laugh at chaffinch and at primroses.
All that is simple, happy, strong, he is.
Over the whole wood in a little while Breaks his slow smile.


by Emily Dickinson

Theres something quieter than sleep

 There's something quieter than sleep
Within this inner room!
It wears a sprig upon its breast --
And will not tell its name.
Some touch it, and some kiss it -- Some chafe its idle hand -- It has a simple gravity I do not understand! I would not weep if I were they -- How rude in one to sob! Might scare the quiet fairy Back to her native wood! While simple-hearted neighbors Chat of the "Early dead" -- We -- prone to periphrasis Remark that Birds have fled!


by Dejan Stojanovic

It Is So Simple

I feel the light inside and out 
Sun is a close keen 

The world glows, and so I glow 
The world is growing 

And I grow glowing 
Thinking so is so simple 

Not to think, but glisten 
Not to analyze, but feel 

The light inside and out 
And grow by glowing 


by Emily Dickinson

It rises -- passes -- on our South

 It rises -- passes -- on our South
Inscribes a simple Noon --
Cajoles a Moment with the Spires
And infinite is gone --


by Frank Bidart

If I Could Mourn Like A Mourning Dove

 It is what recurs that we believe,
your face not at one moment looking
sideways up at me anguished or

elate, but the old words welling up by
gravity rearranged:
two weeks before you died in

pain worn out, after my usual casual sign-off
with All my love, your simple
solemn My love to you, Frank.


by Wang Wei

A Farmhouse on the Wei River

 In the slant of the sun on the country-side, 
Cattle and sheep trail home along the lane; 
And a rugged old man in a thatch door 
Leans on a staff and thinks of his son, the herdboy.
There are whirring pheasants, full wheat-ears, Silk-worms asleep, pared mulberry-leaves.
And the farmers, returning with hoes on their shoulders, Hail one another familiarly.
.
.
.
No wonder I long for the simple life And am sighing the old song, Oh, to go Back Again.