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 Alfred Lord Tennyson
16 William Butler Yeats
17 Tupac Shakur
18 Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings
19 Charles Bukowski
20 Sarojini Naidu
21 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
22 Muhammad Ali
23 Christina Rossetti
24 Billy Collins
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 Thunchaththu Ramanujan Ezhuthachan
38 Thomas Hardy
39 Mark Twain
40 Carl Sandburg
41 Percy Bysshe Shelley
42 Anne Sexton
43 Alexander Pushkin
44 Roger McGough
45 Henry David Thoreau
46 Wendell Berry
47 Sara Teasdale
48 Victor Hugo
49 Elizabeth Barrett Browning
50 George (Lord) Byron

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Famous Short Truth Poems

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

Other Short Poem Pages


Poems are below...


Truth | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by Ezra Pound

Before Sleep

 I was in love with anatomy
the symmetry of my body
poised for flight,
the heights it would take
over parents, lovers, a keen
riding over truth and detail.
I thought growing up would be this rising from everything old and earthly, not these faltering steps out the door every day, then back again.


by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Sacrifice

THOUGH love repine and reason chafe  
There came a voice without reply ¡ª 
'T is man's perdition to be safe, 
When for the truth he ought to die.


by Friedrich von Schiller

Beauteous Individuality

 Thou in truth shouldst be one, yet not with the whole shouldst thou be so.
'Tis through the reason thou'rt one,--art so with it through the heart.
Voice of the whole is thy reason, but thou thine own heart must be ever; If in thy heart reason dwells evermore, happy art thou.


by Emily Dickinson

A Counterfeit -- a Plated Person --

 A Counterfeit -- a Plated Person --
I would not be --
Whatever strata of Iniquity
My Nature underlie --
Truth is good Health -- and Safety, and the Sky.
How meagre, what an Exile -- is a Lie, And Vocal -- when we die --


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 Emily Dickinson

Truth -- is as old as God --

 Truth -- is as old as God --
His Twin identity
And will endure as long as He
A Co-Eternity --

And perish on the Day
Himself is borne away
From Mansion of the Universe
A lifeless Deity.


by Roger McGough

Kinetic poem no.2

 with love
give me your hand
some stranger
is fiction than truth

without love
I'm justa has
been away
too long in the tooth.


by Ogden Nash

A Drink With Something In It

 There is something about a Martini,
A tingle remarkably pleasant;
A yellow, a mellow Martini;
I wish I had one at present.
There is something about a Martini, Ere the dining and dancing begin, And to tell you the truth, It is not the vermouth-- I think that perhaps it's the gin.


by Ogden Nash

The Dog

 The truth I do not stretch or shove
When I state that the dog is full of love.
I've also found, by actual test, A wet dog is the lovingest.


by David Herbert Lawrence

The Deepest Sensuality

 The profoundest of all sensualities
is the sense of truth
and the next deepest sensual experience
is the sense of justice.


by Jack Gilbert

Poetry Is A Kind Of Lying

 Poetry is a kind of lying,
necessarily.
To profit the poet or beauty.
But also in that truth may be told only so.
Those who, admirably, refuse to falsify (as those who will not risk pretensions) are excluded from saying even so much.
Degas said he didn't paint what he saw, but what would enable them to see the thing he had.


by William Butler Yeats

The Coming Of Wisdom With Time

 Though leaves are many, the root is one;
Through all the lying days of my youth
I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
Now I may wither into the truth.


by Omar Khayyam

Here below, we are only the puppets with which the

Here below, we are only the puppets with which the
Wheel of Heaven is amused. This is a truth and not a
metaphor. We are in fact the playthings upon this human
checkerboard, which finally we leave to enter one
by one the coffin of annihilation.


by Emily Dickinson

Love is done when Loves begun

 Love is done when Love's begun,
Sages say,
But have Sages known?
Truth adjourn your Boon
Without Day.


by William Butler Yeats

A First Confession

 I admit the briar
Entangled in my hair
Did not injure me;
My blenching and trembling,
Nothing but dissembling,
Nothing but coquetry.
I long for truth, and yet I cannot stay from that My better self disowns, For a man's attention Brings such satisfaction To the craving in my bones.
Brightness that I pull back From the Zodiac, Why those questioning eyes That are fixed upon me? What can they do but shun me If empty night replies?


by Edgar Lee Masters

Anne Rutledge

 Out of me unworthy and unknown 
The vibrations of deathless music; 
'With malice toward none, with charity for all.
' Out of me the forgiveness of millions toward millions, And the beneficient face of a nation Shining with justice and truth.
I am Anne Rutledge who sleep beneath these weeds, Beloved in life of Abraham Lincoln, Wedded to him, not through union, But through separation.
Bloom forever, O Republic, From the dust of my bosom!


by William Butler Yeats

A Drinking Song

 Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth, I look at you, and I sigh.


by Robert William Service

Pavement Poet

 God's truth! these be the bitter times.
In vain I sing my sheaf of rhymes, And hold my battered hat for dimes.
And then a copper collars me, Barking: "It's begging that you be; Come on, dad; you're in custody.
" And then the Beak looks down and says: "Sheer doggerel I deem your lays: I send you down for seven days.
" So for the week I won't disturb The peace by singing at the curb.
I don't mind that, but oh it's hell To have my verse called doggerel.


by Vladimir Mayakovsky

Attitude To A Miss

 That night was to decide
if she and I
were to be lovers.
Under cover of darkness no one would see, you see.
I bent over her, it’s the truth, and as I did, it’s the truth, I swear it, I said like a kindly parent: “Passion’s a precipice – so won’t you please move away? Move away, please!”


by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The Best Thing In The World

 What's the best thing in the world? 
June-rose, by May-dew impearled; 
Sweet south-wind, that means no rain; 
Truth, not cruel to a friend; 
Pleasure, not in haste to end; 
Beauty, not self-decked and curled 
Till its pride is over-plain; 
Light, that never makes you wink; 
Memory, that gives no pain; 
Love, when, so, you're loved again.
What's the best thing in the world? —Something out of it, I think.


by George William Russell

Truth

 THE HERO first thought it
To him ’twas a deed:
To those who retaught it,
A chain on their speed.
The fire that we kindled, A beacon by night, When darkness has dwindled Grows pale in the light.
For life has no glory Stays long in one dwelling, And time has no story That’s true twice in telling.
And only the teaching That never was spoken Is worthy thy reaching, The fountain unbroken.


by Stephen Crane

Truth said a traveller

 "Truth," said a traveller,
"Is a rock, a mighty fortress;
Often have I been to it,
Even to its highest tower,
From whence the world looks black.
" "Truth," said a traveller, "Is a breath, a wind, A shadow, a phantom; Long have I pursued it, But never have I touched The hem of its garment.
" And I believed the second traveller; For truth was to me A breath, a wind, A shadow, a phantom, And never had I touched The hem of its garment.


by Anna Akhmatova

Along the Hard Crust..

Along the hard crust of deep snows,
To the secret, white house of yours,
So gentle and quiet – we both
Are walking, in silence half-lost.
And sweeter than all songs, sung ever, Are this dream, becoming the truth, Entwined twigs’ a-nodding with favor, The light ring of your silver spurs.
.
.


by Robert Burns

182. The Libeller's Self-reproof

 RASH 1 mortal, and slanderous poet, thy name
Shall no longer appear in the records of Fame;
Dost not know that old Mansfield, who writes like the Bible,
Says, the more ’tis a truth, sir, the more ’tis a libel!


 Note 1.
These are rhymes of dubious authenticity.
—Lang.
[back]


by Paul Eluard

The Nakedness of Truth (I know it well)

 Despair has no wings,
Nor has love,
No countenance:
They do not speak.
I do not stir, I do not behold them, I do not speak to them, But I am as real as my love and my despair.