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 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 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 Sara Teasdale
47 Wendell Berry
48 Elizabeth Barrett Browning
49 Victor Hugo
50 George (Lord) Byron

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Famous Short Sorrow Poems

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

Other Short Poem Pages


Poems are below...


Sorrow | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by Tupac Shakur

When Ure Hero Falls

when your hero falls from grace
all fairy tales r uncovered
myths exposed and pain magnified
the greatest pain discovered
u taught me 2 be strong
but im confused 2 c u so weak
u said never 2 give up
and it hurts 2 c u welcome defeat

when ure hero falls so do the stars
and so does the perception of tomorrow
without my hero there is only
me alone 2 deal with my sorrow
your heart ceases 2 work
and your soul is not happy at all
what r u expected 2 do
when ure only hero falls


by Sarojini Naidu

Autumn Song

 Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow,
 The sunset hangs on a cloud;
A golden storm of glittering sheaves,
Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves,
 The wild wind blows in a cloud.
Hark to a voice that is calling To my heart in the voice of the wind: My heart is weary and sad and alone, For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone, And why should I stay behind?


by Walter de la Mare

Why?

 Ever, ever
Stir and shiver
The reeds and rushes
By the river:
Ever, ever,
As if in dream,
The lone moon's silver
Sleeks the stream.
What old sorrow, What lost love, Moon, reeds, rushes, Dream you of?


by Christina Rossetti

Holy Innocents

 Sleep, little Baby, sleep,
The holy Angels love thee,
And guard thy bed, and keep
A blessed watch above thee.
No spirit can come near Nor evil beast to harm thee: Sleep, Sweet, devoid of fear Where nothing need alarm thee.
The Love which doth not sleep, The eternal arms around thee: The shepherd of the sheep In perfect love has found thee.
Sleep through the holy night, Christ-kept from snare and sorrow, Until thou wake to light And love and warmth to-morrow.


by Lisa Zaran

Leaves

 I went looking for God 
but I found you instead.
Bad luck or destiny, you decide.
Buried in the muck, the soot of the city, sorrow for an appetite, devil on your left shoulder, angel on your right.
You, with your thorny rhythms and tragic, midnight melodies.
My heart never tried to commit suicide before.
Originally published in Literati Magazine, Winter 2005 Copyright © Lisa Zaran, 2005


by Rabindranath Tagore

Chain Of Pearls

 Mother, I shall weave a chain of pearls for thy neck 
with my tears of sorrow.
The stars have wrought their anklets of light to deck thy feet, but mine will hang upon thy breast.
Wealth and fame come from thee and it is for thee to give or to withhold them.
But this my sorrow is absolutely mine own, and when I bring it to thee as my offering thou rewardest me with thy grace.


by A E Housman

Twice a Week the Winter Thorough

 Twice a week the winter thorough 
Here stood I to keep the goal: 
Football then was fighting sorrow 
For the young man's soul.
Now in Maytime to the wicket Out I march with bat and pad: See the son of grief at cricket Trying to be glad.
Try I will; no harm in trying: Wonder 'tis how little mirth Keeps the bones of man from lying On the bed of earth.


by Elinor Wylie

Cold-Blooded Creatures

 Man, the egregious egoist
(In mystery the twig is bent)
Imagines, by some mental twist,
That he alone is sentient

Of the intolerable load
That on all living creatures lies,
Nor stoops to pity in the toad
The speechless sorrow of his eyes.
He asks no questions of the snake, Nor plumbs the phosphorescent gloom Where lidless fishes, broad awake, Swim staring at a nightmare doom.


by Sara Teasdale

Like Barley Bending

 Like barley bending
In low fields by the sea,
Singing in hard wind
Ceaselessly;

Like barley bending
And rising again,
So would I, unbroken,
Rise from pain;

So would I softly,
Day long, night long,
Change my sorrow
Into song.


by Omar Khayyam

How long shall we blush at the injustice of others?

How long shall we blush at the injustice of others?
How long shall we burn in the fire of this insipid world?
Arise, banish from thee the sorrow of the world, if thou
art a man; to-day is a feast; come, drink rose-colored
wine.


by Dorothy Parker

Anecdote

 So silent I when Love was by
He yawned, and turned away;
But Sorrow clings to my apron-strings,
I have so much to say.


by William Blake

Infant Sorrow

 My mother groand! my father wept,
Into the dangerous world I leapt:
Helpless, naked, piping loud:
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
Struggling in my fathers hands: Striving against my swaddling bands: Bound and weary I thought best To sulk upon my mother's breast.


by Walter de la Mare

When the Rose is Faded

 When the rose is faded, 
Memory may still dwell on 
Her beauty shadowed, 
And the sweet smell gone.
That vanishing loveliness, That burdening breath, No bond of life hath then, Nor grief of death.
'Tis the immortal thought Whose passion still Makes the changing The unchangeable.
Oh, thus thy beauty, Loveliest on earth to me, Dark with no sorrow, shines And burns, with thee.


by Dorothy Parker

Inventory

 Four be the things I am wiser to know:
Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a foe.
Four be the things I’d been better without: Love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt.
Three be the things I shall never attain: Envy, content, and sufficient champagne.
Three be the things I shall have till I die: Laughter and hope and a sock in the eye.


by A E Housman

On Your Midnight Pallet Lying

 On your midnight pallet lying, 
Listen, and undo the door: 
Lads that waste the light in sighing 
In the dark should sigh no more; 
Night should ease a lover's sorrow; 
Therefore, since I go to-morrow, 
Pity me before.
In the land to which I travel, The far dwelling, let me say-- Once, if here the couch is gravel, In a kinder bed I lay, And the breast the darnel smothers Rested once upon another's When it was not clay.


by Christina Rossetti

Sappho

 I sigh at day-dawn, and I sigh
When the dull day is passing by.
I sigh at evening, and again I sigh when night brings sleep to men.
Oh! it were far better to die Than thus forever mourn and sigh, And in death's dreamless sleep to be Unconscious that none weep for me; Eased from my weight of heaviness, Forgetful of forgetfulness, Resting from care and pain and sorrow Thro' the long night that knows no morrow; Living unloved, to die unknown, Unwept, untended, and alone.


by Edna St Vincent Millay

Kin To Sorrow

 Am I kin to Sorrow,
 That so oft
Falls the knocker of my door——
 Neither loud nor soft,
But as long accustomed,
 Under Sorrow's hand?
Marigolds around the step
 And rosemary stand,
And then comes Sorrow—
 And what does Sorrow care
For the rosemary
 Or the marigolds there?
Am I kin to Sorrow?
 Are we kin?
That so oft upon my door—
 Oh, come in!


by Isaac Watts

Psalm 131

 Humility and submission.
Is there ambition in my heart?.
Search, gracious God, and see; Or do I act a haughty part? Lord, I appeal to thee.
I charge my thoughts, be humble still, And all my carriage mild, Content, my Father, with thy will, And quiet as a child.
The patient soul, the lowly mind, Shall have a large reward: Let saints in sorrow lie resigned, And trust a faithful Lord.


by George William Russell

A Leader

 THOUGH your eyes with tears were blind,
Pain upon the path you trod:
Well we knew, the hosts behind,
Voice and shining of a god.
For your darkness was our day: Signal fires, your pains untold Lit us on our wandering way To the mystic heart of gold.
Naught we knew of the high land, Beauty burning in its spheres; Sorrow we could understand And the mystery told in tears.


by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Suum Cuique

 The rain has spoiled the farmer's day;
Shall sorrow put my books away?
Thereby are two days lost:
Nature shall mind her own affairs,
I will attend my proper cares,
In rain, or sun, or frost.


by Countee Cullen

To Certain Critics

 Then call me traitor if you must, 
Shout reason and default! 
Say I betray a sacred trust 
Aching beyond this vault.
I'll bear your censure as your praise, For never shall the clan Confine my singing to its ways Beyond the ways of man.
No racial option narrows grief, Pain is not patriot, And sorrow plaits her dismal leaf For all as lief as not.
With blind sheep groping every hill, Searching an oriflamme, How shall the shpherd heart then thrill To only the darker lamb?


by Sarojini Naidu

Alabaster

 LIKE this alabaster box whose art 
Is frail as a cassia-flower, is my heart, 
Carven with delicate dreams and wrought 
With many a subtle and exquisite thought.
Therein I treasure the spice and scent Of rich and passionate memories blent Like odours of cinnamon, sandal and clove, Of song and sorrow and life and love.


by Mahmoud Darwish

A Lover From Palestine

 Her eyes are Palestinian
Her name is Palestinian
Her dress and sorrow Palestinian
Her kerchief, her feet and body Palestinian
Her words and silence Palestinian
Her voice Palestinian
Her birth and her death Palestinian


by J R R Tolkien

The King

 The King beneath the mountains,
The King of carven stone,
The lord of silver fountains,
Shall come into his own!

His crown shall be upholden,
His harp shall be restrung,
His halls shall echo golden,
To songs of yore re-sung.
The woods shall wave on mountains, And grass beneath the sun; His wealth shall flow in fountains, And the rivers golden run.
The streams shall run in gladness, The lakes shall shine and burn, All sorrow fail and sadness, At the Mountain-king's return.


by Belinda Subraman

Approaching The Veil Scientifically

 Eyes like stars sparkle and die
and cycle into new stars, new eyes.
The answer is outside our window.
Astronomers look for the beginning and find there is no end.
Down to earth there are frozen lines, winter trees, stalled cars in dirty snow, sorrow over endings.
The real world is through the window, infinite, ageless.
Though a clear veil keeps us distant, the soul of what we can never prove keeps us close.