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 Thunchaththu Ramanujan Ezhuthachan
44 Henry David Thoreau
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 House Poems

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

Other Short Poem Pages


Poems are below...


House | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by Mother Goose

A Star


Higher than a house, higher than a tree.
Oh! whatever can that be?


by Jack Kerouac

Haiku

 The low yellow
 moon above the
Quiet lamplit house


by Emily Dickinson

Heaven is what I cannot reach!

Heaven is what I cannot reach!
   The apple on the tree,
Provided it do hopeless hang,
   That "heaven" is, to me.
The color on the cruising cloud, The interdicted ground Behind the hill, the house behind, -- There Paradise is found!


by Lewis Carroll

Acrostic

 Little maidens, when you look 
On this little story-book, 
Reading with attentive eye 
Its enticing history, 
Never think that hours of play 
Are your only HOLIDAY, 
And that in a HOUSE of joy 
Lessons serve but to annoy: 
If in any HOUSE you find 
Children of a gentle mind, 
Each the others pleasing ever-- 
Each the others vexing never-- 
Daily work and pastime daily 
In their order taking gaily-- 
Then be very sure that they 
Have a life of HOLIDAY.


by Yosa Buson

Harvest moon

 Harvest moon--
called at his house,
he was digging potatoes.


by Robert Bly

Driving my Parents Home at Christmas

As I drive my parents home through the snow 
their frailty hesitates on the edge of a mountainside.
I call over the cliff only snow answers.
They talk quietly of hauling water of eating an orange of a grandchild's photograph left behind last night.
When they open the door of their house they disappear.
And the oak when it falls in the forest who hears it through miles and miles of silence? They sit so close to each other¡­as if pressed together by the snow.


by Langston Hughes

Madam And Her Madam

 I worked for a woman,
She wasn't mean--
But she had a twelve-room
House to clean.
Had to get breakfast, Dinner, and supper, too-- Then take care of her children When I got through.
Wash, iron, and scrub, Walk the dog around-- It was too much, Nearly broke me down.
I said, Madam, Can it be You trying to make a Pack-horse out of me? She opened her mouth.
She cried, Oh, no! You know, Alberta, I love you so! I said, Madam, That may be true-- But I'll be dogged If I love you!


by Margaret Atwood

Habitation

 Marriage is not 
a house or even a tent 

it is before that, and colder: 

The edge of the forest, the edge 
of the desert 
 the unpainted stairs
at the back where we squat 
outside, eating popcorn 

where painfully and with wonder 
at having survived even 
this far 

we are learning to make fire


by Robert Frost

A Minor Bird

 I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;

Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.
The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.
And of course there must be something wrong In wanting to silence any song.


by Thomas Hardy

Birds at Winter Nightfall (Triolet)

 Around the house the flakes fly faster, 
And all the berries now are gone 
From holly and cotoneaster 
Around the house.
The flakes fly!--faster Shutting indoors that crumb-outcaster We used to see upon the lawn Around the house.
The flakes fly faster, And all the berries now are gone!


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 Jack Gilbert

Divorce

 Woke up suddenly thinking I heard crying.
Rushed through the dark house.
Stopped, remembering.
Stood looking out at bright moonlight on concrete.


by Paul Eluard

Hunted

 A few grains of dust more or less 
On ancient shoulders 
Locks of weakness on weary foreheads 
This theatre of honey and faded roses 
Where incalcuable flies 
Reply to the black signs that misery makes to them 
Despairing girders of a bridge 
Thrown across space 
Thrown across every street and every house 
Heavy wandering madnesses 
That we shall end by knowing by heart 
Mechanical appetites and uncontrolled dances 
That lead to the regret of hatred 

Nostalgia of justice


by Dylan Thomas

On A Wedding Anniversary

 The sky is torn across
This ragged anniversary of two
Who moved for three years in tune
Down the long walks of their vows.
Now their love lies a loss And Love and his patients roar on a chain; From every tune or crater Carrying cloud, Death strikes their house.
Too late in the wrong rain They come together whom their love parted: The windows pour into their heart And the doors burn in their brain.


by Kobayashi Issa

Dont worry spiders

 Don't worry, spiders,
I keep house
casually.


by Sara Teasdale

At Midnight

 Now at last I have come to see what life is,
Nothing is ever ended, everything only begun,
And the brave victories that seem so splendid
Are never really won.
Even love that I built my spirit's house for, Comes like a brooding and a baffled guest, And music and men's praise and even laughter Are not so good as rest.


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 Sylvia Plath

Metaphors

 I'm a riddle in nine syllables,
An elephant, a ponderous house,
A melon strolling on two tendrils.
O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers! This loaf's big with its yeasty rising.
Money's new-minted in this fat purse.
I'm a means, a stage, a cow in calf.
I've eaten a bag of green apples, Boarded the train there's no getting off.


by Emily Dickinson

A House upon the Height

 A House upon the Height --
That Wagon never reached --
No Dead, were ever carried down --
No Peddler's Cart -- approached --

Whose Chimney never smoked --
Whose Windows -- Night and Morn --
Caught Sunrise first -- and Sunset -- last --
Then -- held an Empty Pane --

Whose fate -- Conjecture knew --
No other neighbor -- did --
And what it was -- we never lisped --
Because He -- never told --


by Emily Dickinson

I dwell in Possibility --

 I dwell in Possibility --
A fairer House than Prose --
More numerous of Windows --
Superior -- for Doors --

Of Chambers as the Cedars --
Impregnable of Eye --
And for an Everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky --

Of Visitors -- the fairest --
For Occupation -- This --
The spreading wide of narrow Hands
To gather Paradise --


by Sara Teasdale

Doubt

 My soul lives in my body's house,
 And you have both the house and her—
But sometimes she is less your own
 Than a wild, gay adventurer;
A restless and an eager wraith,
 How can I tell what she will do—
Oh, I am sure of my body's faith,
 But what if my soul broke faith with you?


by Emily Dickinson

A first Mute Coming --

 A first Mute Coming --
In the Stranger's House --
A first fair Going --
When the Bells rejoice --

A first Exchange -- of
What hath mingled -- been --
For Lot -- exhibited to
Faith -- alone --


by Austin Clarke

The Planters Daughter

 When night stirred at sea,
An the fire brought a crowd in
They say that her beauty
Was music in mouth
And few in the candlelight
Thought her too proud,
For the house of the planter
Is known by the trees.
Men that had seen her Drank deep and were silent, The women were speaking Wherever she went -- As a bell that is rung Or a wonder told shyly And O she was the Sunday In every week.


by Emily Dickinson

Go not too near a House of Rose --

 Go not too near a House of Rose --
The depredation of a Breeze --
Or inundation of a Dew
Alarms its walls away --

Nor try to tie the Butterfly,
Nor climb the Bars of Ecstasy,
In insecurity to lie
Is Joy's insuring quality.


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