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 Sandra Cisneros
23 Sarojini Naidu
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 Henry David Thoreau
44 Thunchaththu Ramanujan Ezhuthachan
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 Journey Poems

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

Other Short Poem Pages


Poems are below...


Journey | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by Rabindranath Tagore

Friend

 Art thou abroad on this stormy night 
on thy journey of love, my friend? 
The sky groans like one in despair.
I have no sleep tonight.
Ever and again I open my door and look out on the darkness, my friend! I can see nothing before me.
I wonder where lies thy path! By what dim shore of the ink-black river, by what far edge of the frowning forest, through what mazy depth of gloom art thou threading thy course to come to me, my friend?


by Wendell Berry

The Real Work

 It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come our real work,

and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.


by Hermann Hesse

On A Journey

 Don't be downcast, soon the night will come,
When we can see the cool moon laughing in secret
Over the faint countryside,
And we rest, hand in hand.
Don't be downcast, the time will soon come When we can have rest.
Our small crosses will stand On the bright edge of the road together, And rain fall, and snow fall, And the winds come and go.


by William Blake

Ah! Sun-Flower

 Ah Sun-flower! weary of time.
Who countest the steps of the Sun; Seeking after that sweet golden clime Where the travellers journey is done.
Where the Youth pined away with desire, And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow: Arise from their graves and aspire.
Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.


by Emily Dickinson

The Things that never can come back are several --

 The Things that never can come back, are several --
Childhood -- some forms of Hope -- the Dead --
Though Joys -- like Men -- may sometimes make a Journey --
And still abide --
We do not mourn for Traveler, or Sailor,
Their Routes are fair --
But think enlarged of all that they will tell us
Returning here --
"Here!" There are typic "Heres" --
Foretold Locations --
The Spirit does not stand --
Himself -- at whatsoever Fathom
His Native Land --


by Dylan Thomas

Twenty-Four Years

 Twenty-four years remind the tears of my eyes.
(Bury the dead for fear that they walk to the grave in labour.
) In the groin of the natural doorway I crouched like a tailor Sewing a shroud for a journey By the light of the meat-eating sun.
Dressed to die, the sensual strut begun, With my red veins full of money, In the final direction of the elementary town I advance as long as forever is.


by Margaret Atwood

Provisions

 What should we have taken
with us? We never could decide
on that; or what to wear,
or at what time of
year we should make the journey

So here we are in thin
raincoats and rubber boots

On the disastrous ice, the wind rising

Nothing in our pockets

But a pencil stub, two oranges
Four Toronto streetcar tickets

and an elastic band holding a bundle
of small white filing cards
printed with important facts.


by Walter de la Mare

Alone

 Over the fence, the dead settle in
for a journey.
Nine o'clock.
You are alone for the first time today.
Boys asleep.
Husband out.
A beer bottle sweats in your hand, and sea lavender clogs the air with perfume.
Think of yourself.
Your arms rest with nothing to do after weeks spent attending to others.
Your thoughts turn to whether butter will last the week, how much longer the car can run on its partial tank of gas.


by Walter de la Mare

Winter

 Clouded with snow 
The cold winds blow, 
And shrill on leafless bough 
The robin with its burning breast 
Alone sings now.
The rayless sun, Day's journey done, Sheds its last ebbing light On fields in leagues of beauty spread Unearthly white.
Thick draws the dark, And spark by spark, The frost-fires kindle, and soon Over that sea of frozen foam Floats the white moon.


by Countee Cullen

Simon the Cyrenian Speaks

 He never spoke a word to me,
And yet He called my name;
He never gave a sign to me,
And yet I knew and came.
At first I said, "I will not bear His cross upon my back; He only seeks to place it there Because my skin is black.
" But He was dying for a dream, And He was very meek, And in His eyes there shone a gleam Men journey far to seek.
It was Himself my pity bought; I did for Christ alone What all of Rome could not have wrought With bruise of lash or stone.


by Emily Dickinson

Nobody knows this little Rose

 Nobody knows this little Rose --
It might a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.
Only a Bee will miss it -- Only a Butterfly, Hastening from far journey -- On its breast to lie -- Only a Bird will wonder -- Only a Breeze will sigh -- Ah Little Rose -- how easy For such as thee to die!


by Wang Wei

Farewell

 I have got my leave.
Bid me farewell, my brothers! I bow to you all and take my departure.
Here I give back the keys of my door ---and I give up all claims to my house.
I only ask for last kind words from you.
We were neighbors for long, but I received more than I could give.
Now the day has dawned and the lamp that lit my dark corner is out.
A summons has come and I am ready for my journey.


by Ingeborg Bachmann

Stay

 Now the journey is ending,
the wind is losing heart.
Into your hands it's falling, a rickety house of cards.
The cards are backed with pictures displaying all the world.
You've stacked up all the images and shuffled them with words.
And how profound the playing that once again begins! Stay, the card you're drawing is the only world you'll win.


by Emily Dickinson

Our journey had advanced --

 Our journey had advanced --
Our feet were almost come
To that odd Fork in Being's Road --
Eternity -- by Term --

Our pace took sudden awe --
Our feet -- reluctant -- led --
Before -- were Cities -- but Between --
The Forest of the Dead --

Retreat -- was out of Hope --
Behind -- a Sealed Route --
Eternity's White Flag -- Before --
And God -- at every Gate --


by Henry Van Dyke

The Gentle Traveller

 Through many a land your journey ran,
And showed the best the world can boast:
Now tell me, traveller, if you can,
The place that pleased you most.
" She laid her hands upon my breast, And murmured gently in my ear, "The place I loved and liked the best Was in your arms, my dear!"


by Emily Dickinson

One Crucifixion is recorded -- only --

 One Crucifixion is recorded -- only --
How many be
Is not affirmed of Mathematics --
Or History --

One Calvary -- exhibited to Stranger --
As many be
As persons -- or Peninsulas --
Gethsemane --

Is but a Province -- in the Being's Centre --
Judea --
For Journey -- or Crusade's Achieving --
Too near --

Our Lord -- indeed -- made Compound Witness --
And yet --
There's newer -- nearer Crucifixion
Than That --


by Ogura Hyakunin Isshu

Ono no Komachi

Color of the flower
Has already passed away
While on trivial things
Vainly I have set my gaze,
In my journey through the world.


by Louise Gluck

The Fear Of Burial

 In the empty field, in the morning,
the body waits to be claimed.
The spirit sits beside it, on a small rock-- nothing comes to give it form again.
Think of the body's loneliness.
At night pacing the sheared field, its shadow buckled tightly around.
Such a long journey.
And already the remote, trembling lights of the village not pausing for it as they scan the rows.
How far away they seem, the wooden doors, the bread and milk laid like weights on the table.


by Emily Dickinson

I sing to use the Waiting

 I sing to use the Waiting
My Bonnet but to tie
And shut the Door unto my House
No more to do have I

Till His best step approaching
We journey to the Day
And tell each other how We sung
To Keep the Dark away.


by Rabindranath Tagore

My Friend

 Art thou abroad on this stormy night 
on thy journey of love, my friend? 
The sky groans like one in despair.
I have no sleep tonight.
Ever and again I open my door and look out on the darkness, my friend! I can see nothing before me.
I wonder where lies thy path! By what dim shore of the ink-black river, by what far edge of the frowning forest, through what mazy depth of gloom art thou threading thy course to come to me, my friend?


by Emily Dickinson

Cosmopolities without a plea

 Cosmopolities without a plea
Alight in every Land
The compliments of Paradise
From those within my Hand

Their dappled Journey to themselves
A compensation fair
Knock and it shall be opened
Is their Theology


by Emily Dickinson

Could live -- did live

 Could live -- did live --
Could die -- did die --
Could smile upon the whole
Through faith in one he met not,
To introduce his soul.
Could go from scene familiar To an untraversed spot -- Could contemplate the journey With unpuzzled heart -- Such trust had one among us, Among us not today -- We who saw the launching Never sailed the Bay!


by Robert Burns

248. Pegasus at Wanlockhead

 WITH Pegasus upon a day,
 Apollo, weary flying,
Through frosty hills the journey lay,
 On foot the way was plying.
Poor slipshod giddy Pegasus Was but a sorry walker; To Vulcan then Apollo goes, To get a frosty caulker.
Obliging Vulcan fell to work, Threw by his coat and bonnet, And did Sol’s business in a crack; Sol paid him with a sonnet.
Ye Vulcan’s sons of Wanlockhead, Pity my sad disaster; My Pegasus is poorly shod, I’ll pay you like my master.


by George William Russell

The Mid-World

 THIS is the red, red region
Your heart must journey through:
Your pains will here be legion
And joy be death for you.
Rejoice to-day: to-morrow A turning tide shall flow Through infinite tones of sorrow To reach an equal woe.
You pass by love unheeding To gain the goal you long— But my heart, my heart is bleeding: I cannot sing this song.


by William Butler Yeats

The Pity Of Love

 A pity beyond all telling
Is hid in the heart of love:
The folk who are buying and selling,
The clouds on their journey above,
The cold wet winds ever blowing,
And the shadowy hazel grove
Where mouse-grey waters are flowing,
Threaten the head that I love.