Well Read Poems - Poems about Well Read

The poems that never get read. Sitting in some pile of papers on the desk. They just didn't have it to go anywhere. Though they hold the stories of lovers and haters. Big men and little men. Winners and losers. Beauty and the beast! The World, what a place! The tales of great drama called the human condition. From the past and the future...

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I can't bring myself to read the front page news with which they string us along as portrayed by the views of those with a vested interest or the rest with an axe to grind who must think we're all just deaf dumb and blind to the truth of which there's more in the speech balloons of the funny characters in the Sunday cartoons it's all a...

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a curtal sonnet Each obituary I read is mine; husband, wife, son and daughter abide where the records of their lives do still exist; motality belongs to time's design, stitching out each minute without prayer, and you are simply helpless to resist the imagination of the Weavers~ when will Atropos become the slayer, and with her sharpened scissors give a twist, putting all your...

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In my comfy corner, a little space A place of my own, as soft as a lace Lays a long chair of queen’s height with a wooden base With a rocking style for a ride at a mild pace Cushions of vibrant colours, in fitting size in the pattern of a maze Attracting all in less time, fixing attention and...

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To true friendship... Though it be fifty years ago That I first read your eyes The story that they guaranteed ...

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I think about the person I thought I would be by now, someone stronger, more fearless, more put-together. Someone who didn’t cry over things that happened years ago. Things that happened last week. Memories from when I first wore a backpack. Memories now. Someone who had it figured out. I’m fifteen, and I don’t have...

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I wonder what it would’ve been like to grow up differently. Perhaps with fewer mental roadblocks. Possibly with a brain that wasn’t constantly shifting channels without warning. I’ve been trying so hard lately, writing a book that digs into the mess of identity, lying, family, and mental illness, designing guitar lesson plans, building a future...

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Dear reader, I am sad because I thought about my life, and it made me want to cry. It didn’t strike me like lightning, there was no crash of thunder or moment of clarity. It was quieter than that and it came slowly, like dusk settling in after a long...

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As my words "cascade" off my tongue, onto the "myriad" of blank pages. Each letter will slowly "slither," slither into a "serpentine" of sentences. As I stop to read, will the pages "lilt" to me? With tired eyes I see a "nebula" bright night, as I look out my huge window at the "lunar" light....

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The strong thread of poetry runs through my long years. More precious it grows as the end of life nears. I'll keep reading your poems, and you please read mine, for the hand stilled by Death can't write one single line. ...

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I’m sorry but I must admit That I have read this book There’s no point of rereading it As if I overlooked Unobvious important signs That I did much appreciate I changed my surreptitious mind To set the fresh update I’ve come to see your apple tree It’s such a lovely day! You smiling face looks down on me Don’t worry now, please stay Come to...

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Once I thrilled to Homer’s Odyssey to his Iliad equally ‘Til I hurt my sacroiliac ~ and traded literature for TV ...

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I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. l have lean1ed the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength. (Philippians 4:12-13) Content in...

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This house has it’s walls, All so paper thin, One more line of dialogue, And I might just cave in, My head is so thick, But yet so thin, I don’t have a pool, But yet I might dive in, Filling my head with all that is old, I’d rather see what is new, Than what’s full of rust and dust, I read another line, It’s...

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I like poignant writings from the heart clever lines that hook you from the start. I admire a tall tale if you can spin a yarn not pedantic but nothing suited for a barn I love hand picked words that exude charm and even the dramatic ones that sound every alarm I love poetry that is sublime and elevates itself the kind...

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