Day World Poems | Examples
These Day World poems are examples of World poems about Day. These are the best examples of World Day poems written by international poets.
(“Dark Pool Nebula”, 2011, original oil)
Different Worlds
I travel to different worlds in my dreams,
In my mind, even day by day
With different aspects of my self
In this one body.
As I get older I see we all live in different worlds,
Determined by what we believe, how we are raised,
And what we learn.
Sometimes we can stand on the same street corner
And be in totally different worlds as we chat.
Some people know all about this
And some are totally clueless,
Yet still we are all in our own world.
Is this a problem that needs to change?
I don’t think so
It is just the nature of things
The nature of having a mind
Especially so with an independent mind.
So maybe it is good the way things are.
What is bad is trying to change this
Trying to make everyone conform.
But how would it be if a fish thought itself
A bird, or a bird a fish,
Or a man a woman, or a human a god?
Some things are just not meant to be.
And so I travel to different worlds
In my dreams and in my mind,
And as I become more familiar
The worlds become more wonderful.
(9/15/25)
P=Perhaps we should have.
E=Ears for hearing, so listen more.
R=Reading time for a good poem to start each day.
H=Heart, show love along our way.
A=Applause for others and say thank you.
P=Praise as we are blessed.
S=Smiles to give away and make someone's day.
I keep coming back
as if, one day, I'll find
the illusive angle,
that moment of perfect alignment
when the river, the clouds,
the trees and all
that is manifested
will break open and reveal
what is really there,
when what holds everything
together ruptures
and spills forth the sublime.
I get a sense of it sometimes
at dawn when the sun
breaks through the clouds
in a blinding burst of light
and in the quiet of evenings
when a birdsong pierces
the forest with sound so pure
it seems to open a gash
in time before closing
over in a sad covering
of silence. I am granted
only glimpses as if more
would be too much
for me, composed as I am
of stuff made of this world,
its blunt chemistry.
Sheila lives in more than one world, traveling with delight
Yesterday she was in the Orient, flying a gorgeous Japanese kite
Today she traveled down the Amazon, petting black pumas on her way
An avid reader, Sheila journeys a new world, each and every day
Every book she opens is a potential notch off her bucket list.
Today a faerie castle popped out in a lovely lavender mist.
Sheila learns more in her chair than most travelers know to do.
She has been around the world many times, maybe twenty-two.
Always remember to pack the essentials,
Bat, Bottle, Bag, Boots,
Cut down anyone who tries to get in the way,
Don't look them in the eye, it only makes it harder,
Enemy, everyone is the enemy, yes, even them,
Find what you can, anything, you'll need it later,
Get up, you don't have time to rest, not yet,
How have you survived this long?
Imagine a better world, running water, safety,
Jokes are the only thing keeping you going,
Kill or be killed, even when its all over,
Like an animal, lose yourself in the fray,
Most of them aren't even people anymore,
Notice how they don't look you in the eye,
Only you are left, Only you can rescue them,
Persevere, soon it'll all be back to normal.
Quick, you have to run, to escape,
Run, run, doesn't matter to where or why,
Stop and you are dead, run, run,
Today is the day, its all over, you can't escape-
Unless you remember the ABCs,
Very good, recall everything I've taught you,
When the end finally comes and its all over,
Xenial little thing you are, listening to me.
You will be safe from the onslaught,
Zealot of the new world order.
A place, a planet, a particle in the Universe,
This is where I was born, but oh I know
Things can often sometimes become worse
As I struggle every day and reap what I sow.
A place, a planet, nothing but a speck
And yet we are all left to suffer forever
In a neverending cycle even after we wreck
Forms that were sometimes not in our favor.
A place, a planet, just ants in grand scheme,
As we continue living on meaninglessly,
We're always slowly dying, so it would seem,
So enjoy all the wholesome things lovingly.
A place, a planet, though a prison, is home.
All our souls want is true freedom,
The ability to go far, explore, and roam
Despite this Hellish world's many a qualm.
O Quintessence!
That which makes us, shapes us,
Through the dirty day
From dust to dust –
Did they know, when they unleashed you, what they wrought?
Stellar eternity condensed in cataclysmic instant,
Iota wreaking death, and smaller blasphemy –
Brief man stealing star-power against the night.
Did he know, when he died the little death, what he was doing?
Not you, for true, but great symbolic father in the garden;
Death brings death, seed seed, life life – the third will last
Then may we live in harmony with you, O fundament.
May we find a link that harms not you nor us.
The wild fruit we may not see again,
And End awaits he who tastes the tamed –
Somewhere in between, then, and let it, like a pomegranate,
Sweet us, bind us to it, that me dwell our time
No less, no more.
It is what it is
and no mistaking
which no one can deny
by hiding or faking
but if we can
all agree to disagree
and let it be
one day things may
turn out favourably
but the situation currently
is not quite right
in fact it's completely
out of hand
around the world
throughout the land
an act of God is not enough
more than a miracle
is needed
for all mankind
but never heeded
by the powers that be
so now it's up to you and me
That is right August 18,
Today Is National "Bad" Poetry Day.
To all the writers,
here is your chance.
Write something "Great,"
for the world to read.
How about,
National "Great" Poetry Day???
Remember a rhyme is to rhyme,
not kind of rhyme.
A Limerick is to be a five line funny,
not sad or depressing.
A true writer,
writes from their loving and creative heart.
AI writes,
but has no heart to write from.
Many have told me,
less words are more.
So I am stopping here,
so you can add to my list.
Have fun day writing away....
Shall we once more, in mountains of our thought,
Gaze down upon the vastness of our ground,
And know that for the meadows newly sought,
The flowering fields shall not by us be found?
Shall we recall that bronze took place of stone,
And then in turn to iron did yield its way;
That ships of sail no more the oceans own,
And brilliant sunlight lasts for but a day?
Shall we, in embers of the distant past,
Remember living forms that brought our dawn,
But, by that gift of birth, their fate was cast,
And we the reason that their time has gone?
O, things shall pass, and it were ever thus:
'Tis more bitter, though, now that it is us.
For a while, I have been gone,
Not so much for I left my poetry in my stead,
So they read, so they remember...
Yet here I am, alive yet dead.
They look at me with eyes,
Eyes that made mine cry,
No hugs, no hellos, or a faint gladness--
For I am here, alive yet dead.
The house I lived in, now lives another,
neither a friend nor a brother,
A man, they said, had no home to live in.
For I am here, alive yet dead.
The girl in my poems,
Married to another who made her feel
in many ways, all the seasons at once,
Living the life I prayed for in my sonnets.
For I am here, alive yet dead.
There is a sting in my heart
It is silent, yet it plays a noble part
and the dark shades around my eyes
The eyes that have seen so many die
And in the end, they would cry.
What now?
Now there is a darkness nigh
Slowly engulfing me, swallowing me
Taking with me my poems and my dreams
The life I wanted, the family that had hoped
The war that had come, and the lives that went by
including that which was mine.
They look at me with eyes
Eyes that made mine cry
No hugs, no hellos, and no signs of warm gladness
For I am here, alive yet dead.
H=Humour and smiles make for a happy day for everyone.
U=Under hurt or pain, add humour so it will melt fast away.
M=Many need a joke or two so their face can wear a smile.
O=Our life is happier with lots of humour in it.
U=Unless we have humour in the world, we will be sad.
R=Read this again to see what to do for a happy life.
Quote By Albert Einstein
Imagination is more important than knowledge.
Knowledge is limited.
Imagination encircles the world.
A treasure trove of worlds is in our mind.
On any given day we all can find.
An interlude, where we would rather be.
It just takes our imagination see!
If we are feeling down, then we can fly.
To some idyllic place where we don’t cry
Or when we’re happy, felling brave, and bold.
Imagine all the love we then can hold.
Our stories and the poems we all make.
Comes from imagination we create.
One day I took the subway
and I went around the world
From one car to another
a new nation’s flag unfurled
The train took off from Brooklyn
and I hopped on at Times Square
and by the time that I got home
I’d been most everywhere
The couple that spoke Yiddish,
and hurried on their way
were deep in conversation
which she ended with, “Oy vey.”
And then I heard some talking
that turned out was Portuguese
At first I thought was Spanish
might as well been legalese
Rushing through the last three cars
so packed, I had to squeeze
I heard an “Arigatou”
which I know is Japanese
“La vita non è facile”
I smiled because I knew
The woman spoke Italian
and the meaning came right through
Then right before I exited
the girl who dropped her toy
Said “Shukran,” as she took it
from the little Arab boy
There aren’t many places
you can hear a language mix
After work, around the world
and still be home by six
The noise of the day
has subsided and folded
into a quiet
under the soft covers
of a July evening.
The eyes seem to resist
the particular and instead
focus on nothing
but the sum - the glow
from shore lights
smudged on water,
the dark sky powdered
with translucent clouds
and the faint filaments
of stars strung out overhead.
Tonight, I don't want
the granular detail of things
to steal my attention
but to enjoy the blending,
the stand back meld
of colors, of each stroke,
forming a picture transcending
its parts. I want to feel
the evening being
put together
into a boundless whole,
to be beyond
the smallness of myself
and be absorbed totally
into the mystery
of the composition