Short Poetry by Popular Famous Poets

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

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Famous Short Sound Poems

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

Other Short Poem Pages


Poems are below...


Sound | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by Yosa Buson

Old well

 Old well,
a fish leaps--
 dark sound.


by Adelaide Crapsey

November Night

Listen.
.
With faint dry sound, Like steps of passing ghosts, The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break from the trees And fall.


by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The Poets Dream

ON a Poet's lips I slept  
Dreaming like a love-adept 
In the sound his breathing kept; 
Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses  
But feeds on the aerial kisses 5 
Of shapes that haunt Thought's wildernesses.
He will watch from dawn to gloom The lake-reflected sun illume The blue bees in the ivy-bloom Nor heed nor see what things they be¡ª 10 But from these create he can Forms more real than living man Nurslings of Immortality!


by Matsuo Basho

Winter solitude

 Winter solitude--
in a world of one color
 the sound of wind.


by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Repeat That Repeat

 Repeat that, repeat,
Cuckoo, bird, and open ear wells, heart-springs, delightfully sweet,
With a ballad, with a ballad, a rebound 
Off trundled timber and scoops of the hillside ground, hollow hollow hollow ground:
The whole landscape flushes on a sudden at a sound.


by David Herbert Lawrence

Discord in Childhood

 Outside the house an ash-tree hung its terrible whips,
And at night when the wind arose, the lash of the tree 
Shrieked and slashed the wind, as a ship’s 
Weird rigging in a storm shrieks hideously.
Within the house two voices arose in anger, a slender lash Whistling delirious rage, and the dreadful sound Of a thick lash booming and bruising, until it drowned The other voice in a silence of blood, ’neath the noise of the ash.


by Emily Bronte

The Sun Has Set

 The sun has set, and the long grass now 
Waves dreamily in the evening wind; 
And the wild bird has flown from that old gray stone 
In some warm nook a couch to find.
In all the lonely landscape round I see no light and hear no sound, Except the wind that far away Come sighing o'er the healthy sea.


by Matsuo Basho

Awake at night

 Awake at night--
the sound of the water jar
 cracking in the cold.


by Sara Teasdale

I Thought Of You

 I thought of you and how you love this beauty,
And walking up the long beach all alone 
I heard the waves breaking in measured thunder
As you and I once heard their monotone.
Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me The cold and sparkling silver of the sea -- We two will pass through death and ages lengthen Before you hear that sound again with me.


by Percy Bysshe Shelley

A widow bird sate mourning for her Love

A WIDOW bird sate mourning for her Love 
Upon a wintry bough; 
The frozen wind crept on above  
The freezing stream below.
There was no leaf upon the forest bare.
5 No flower upon the ground And little motion in the air Except the mill-wheel's sound.


by Dejan Stojanovic

Dancing of Sounds

There is a moonlight note
In the Moonlight Sonata; 
There is a thunder note
In an angry sky.
Sound unbound by nature Becomes bounded by art.
There is no competition of sounds Between a nightingale and a violin.
Nature rewards and punishes By offering unpredictable ways; Art is apotheosis; Often, the complaint of beauty.
Nature is an outcry, Unpolished truth; The art—a euphemism— Tamed wilderness.


by Robert Creeley

Goodbye

 She stood at the window.
There was a sound, a light.
She stood at the window.
A face.
Was it that she was looking for, he thought.
Was it that she was looking for.
He said, turn from it, turn from it.
The pain is not unpainful.
Turn from it.
The act of her anger, of the anger she felt then, not turning to him.


by Bob Kaufman

O-Jazz-O

 Where the string
At
some point,
Was umbilical jazz,
Or perhaps,
In memory,
A long lost bloody cross,
Buried in some steel cavalry.
In what time For whom do we bleed, Lost notes, from some jazzman's Broken needle.
Musical tears from lost Eyes.
Broken drumsticks, why? Pitter patter, boom dropping Bombs in the middle Of my emotions My father's sound My mother's sound, Is love, Is life.


by Sara Teasdale

Sleepless

 If I could have your arms tonight-
But half the world and the broken sea
Lie between you and me.
The autumn rain reverberates in the courtyard, Beating all night against the barren stone, The sound of useless rain in the desolate courtyard Makes me more alone.
If you were here, if you were only here- My blood cries out to you all night in vain As sleepless as the rain.


by Frank O'Hara

Poem

The clouds ache bleakly
and when they can manage it 
crush someone's head in
without a sound of anger.
This is a brutal mystery.
We meet in the streets with our hands in our pockets and snarl guiltily at each other as if we had flayed a cloud or two in our salad days.
Lots of things do blame us; and in moments when I forget how cruel we really should be I often have to bite my tongue to keep from being guilty.


by Lisa Zaran

The Blues Are All The Same

 ~for Jackson C.
Frank It seems almost too far fetched really, too difficult to believe.
This unassuming moon shining like a copper plate.
These milkcrate blues.
This soft trellis of sound wobbling through the wind as if pouring out from the window of some lonely house on the hill.
How beautiful it is, the ghost of your voice, haunting this empty valley.
Originally published in 2River View 10.
1, 2005 Copyright © Lisa Zaran, 2005


by Yosa Buson

Coolness

 Coolness--
the sound of the bell
 as it leaves the bell.


by Robert Louis Stevenson

Aunties Skirts

 Whenever Auntie moves around,
Her dresses make a curious sound,
They trail behind her up the floor,
And trundle after through the door.


by Paul Verlaine

Autumn Song

With long sobs
the violin-throbs
of autumn wound
my heart with languorous
and montonous
sound.
Choking and pale When i mind the tale the hours keep, my memory strays down other days and I weep; and I let me go where ill winds blow now here, now there, harried and sped, even as a dead leaf, anywhere.


by Carolyn Forche

The Visitor

 In Spanish he whispers there is no time left.
It is the sound of scythes arcing in wheat, the ache of some field song in Salvador.
The wind along the prison, cautious as Francisco's hands on the inside, touching the walls as he walks, it is his wife's breath slipping into his cell each night while he imagines his hand to be hers.
It is a small country.
There is nothing one man will not do to another.


by Emily Dickinson

Peace is a fiction of our Faith --

 Peace is a fiction of our Faith --
The Bells a Winter Night
Bearing the Neighbor out of Sound
That never did alight.


by Emily Dickinson

The Loneliness One dare not sound --

 The Loneliness One dare not sound --
And would as soon surmise
As in its Grave go plumbing
To ascertain the size --

The Loneliness whose worst alarm
Is lest itself should see --
And perish from before itself
For just a scrutiny --

The Horror not to be surveyed --
But skirted in the Dark --
With Consciousness suspended --
And Being under Lock --

I fear me this -- is Loneliness --
The Maker of the soul
Its Caverns and its Corridors
Illuminate -- or seal --


by Edna St Vincent Millay

City Trees

 The trees along this city street,
Save for the traffic and the trains,
Would make a sound as thin and sweet
As trees in country lanes.
And people standing in their shade Out of a shower, undoubtedly Would hear such music as is made Upon a country tree.
Oh, little leaves that are so dumb Against the shrieking city air, I watch you when the wind has come,— I know what sound is there.


by Ezra Pound

Statement of Being

 I am a grave poetic hen
That lays poetic eggs
And to enhance my temperament
A little quiet begs.
We make the yolk philosophy, True beauty the albumen.
And then gum on a shell of form To make the screed sound human.


by Wang Wei

Deer Enclosure

 Empty hill not see person 
Yet hear person voice sound 
Return scene enter deep forest 
Duplicate light green moss on 


Hills are empty, no man is seen, 
Yet the sound of people's voices is heard.
Light is cast into the deep forest, And shines again on green moss.