Famous Short Neighbor Poems
Famous Short Neighbor Poems. Short Neighbor Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Neighbor short poems
by
Emily Dickinson
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
Peace is a fiction of our Faith --
The Bells a Winter Night
Bearing the Neighbor out of Sound
That never did alight.
by
Marge Piercy
Man stomping over my bed in boots
carrying a large bronze church bell
which you occasionally drop:
gross man with iron heels
who drags coffins to and fro at four in the morning,
who hammers on scaffolding all night long,
who entertains sumo wrestlers and fat acrobats--
I pass you on the steps, we smile and nod.
Rage swells in me like gas.
Now rage too keeps me awake.
by
Emily Dickinson
Four Trees -- upon a solitary Acre --
Without Design
Or Order, or Apparent Action --
Maintain --
The Sun -- upon a Morning meets them --
The Wind --
No nearer Neighbor -- have they --
But God --
The Acre gives them -- Place --
They -- Him -- Attention of Passer by --
Of Shadow, or of Squirrel, haply --
Or Boy --
What Deed is Theirs unto the General Nature --
What Plan
They severally -- retard -- or further --
Unknown --
by
Emily Dickinson
Snow beneath whose chilly softness
Some that never lay
Make their first Repose this Winter
I admonish Thee
Blanket Wealthier the Neighbor
We so new bestow
Than thine acclimated Creature
Wilt Thou, Austere Snow?
by
Mother Goose
"What is the news of the day,Good neighbor, I pray?""They say the balloonIs gone up to the moon!"
by
Emily Dickinson
Air has no Residence, no Neighbor,
No Ear, no Door,
No Apprehension of Another
Oh, Happy Air!
Ethereal Guest at e'en an Outcast's Pillow --
Essential Host, in Life's faint, wailing Inn,
Later than Light thy Consciousness accost me
Till it depart, persuading Mine --
by
Emily Dickinson
Besides this May
We know
There is Another --
How fair
Our Speculations of the Foreigner!
Some know Him whom We knew --
Sweet Wonder --
A Nature be
Where Saints, and our plain going Neighbor
Keep May!
by
Rainer Maria Rilke
Strange violin, why do you follow me?
In how many foreign cities did you
speak of your lonely nights and those of mine.
Are you being played by hundreds? Or by one?
Do in all great cities men exist
who tormented and in deep despair
would have sought the river but for you?
And why does your playing always reach me?
Why is it that I am always neighbor
to those lost ones who are forced to sing
and to say: Life is infinitely heavier
than the heaviness of all things.
by
Emily Dickinson
Facts by our side are never sudden
Until they look around
And then they scare us like a spectre
Protruding from the Ground --
The height of our portentous Neighbor
We never know --
Till summoned to his recognition
By an Adieu --
Adieu for whence
The sage cannot conjecture
The bravest die
As ignorant of their resumption
As you or I --
by
Emily Dickinson
The Crickets sang
And set the Sun
And Workmen finished one by one
Their Seam the Day upon.
The low Grass loaded with the Dew
The Twilight stood, as Strangers do
With Hat in Hand, polite and new
To stay as if, or go.
A Vastness, as a Neighbor, came,
A Wisdom, without Face, or Name,
A Peace, as Hemispheres at Home
And so the Night became.
by
Emily Dickinson
The Fingers of the Light
Tapped soft upon the Town
With "I am great and cannot wait
So therefore let me in."
"You're soon," the Town replied,
"My Faces are asleep --
But swear, and I will let you by,
You will not wake them up."
The easy Guest complied
But once within the Town
The transport of His Countenance
Awakened Maid and Man
The Neighbor in the Pool
Upon His Hip elate
Made loud obeisance and the Gnat
Held up His Cup for Light.
by
Emily Dickinson
The Show is not the Show
But they that go --
Menagerie to me
My Neighbor be --
Fair Play --
Both went to see --
by
Emily Dickinson
It was too late for Man --
But early, yet, for God --
Creation -- impotent to help --
But Prayer -- remained -- Our Side --
How excellent the Heaven --
When Earth -- cannot be had --
How hospitable -- then -- the face
Of our Old Neighbor -- God --
by
Carl Sandburg
LEGS hold a torso away from the earth.
And a regular high poem of legs is here.
Powers of bone and cord raise a belly and lungs
Out of ooze and over the loam where eyes look and ears hear
And arms have a chance to hammer and shoot and run motors.
You make us
Proud of our legs, old man.
And you left off the head here,
The skull found always crumbling neighbor of the ankles.
by
Emily Dickinson
Too little way the House must lie
From every Human Heart
That holds in undisputed Lease
A white inhabitant --
Too narrow is the Right between --
Too imminent the chance --
Each Consciousness must emigrate
And lose its neighbor once --