The best Author's Poems


Posted by: Elisa Iacobellis
in Poems (Author's Poems)
Be patient towards all that
is unresolved in your heart...
try to adore questions, so similar to
locked rooms and books written
in a foreign language.
Don't seek now those answers that can't be given to you
for you wouldn't be able to live with them.
Living is everything. Live the questions now.
Maybe you shall receive it, without you noticing it,
to live the distant
day in which you'll have the answer.
Rate this poem: Send
    Posted by: Silvana Stremiz
    in Poems (Author's Poems)
    Remember Barbara
    It rained endlessly on Brest on that day
    And you walked smiling
    Radiant enchanted dripping-wet
    In the rain
    Remember Barbara
    It was raining endlessly on Brest
    And I came across you in the Rue de Siam
    You were smiling
    And I smiled the same
    Remember Barbara
    You whom I did not know
    You who did not know me
    Remember
    Remember even though that very day
    Forget not
    A man, under a porch, was sheltering
    And he called your name
    Barbara
    And you ran towards him in the rain
    Dripping-wet enchanted radiant
    And you threw yourself into his arms
    Remember that, Barbara
    And do not resent it if I call you: "tu"
    I say "tu" to everyone I love
    Even if I have seen them only once
    I say" tu" to all who love each other
    Even if I do not know them
    Remember Barbara
    Forget not
    The quiet and happy rain
    Hereon your happy face
    Hereon the happy town
    The rain hereon the merry sea
    On the arsenal
    On the shuttle boat to Ushant
    Oh Barbara
    What a bloody farce the war
    What's become of you now
    In the rain of iron
    Of fire, of steel of blood
    And the one who clasped you in his arms
    Lovingly
    Is he now dead, missing, or still alive
    Oh Barbara
    It's raining endlessly on Brest
    As it rained before
    But now it is not the same, and all set abased
    It is a rain of mourning, terrible and desolate
    Now it is even no longer the storm
    Of iron, of steel of blood
    Merely clouds
    That go coma like dogs
    Dogs that go missing
    Along the current over Brest
    And will go pouring in the far
    In the very far away from Brest
    Of which there is nothing left.
    Rate this poem: Send
      Posted by: Silvana Stremiz
      in Poems (Author's Poems)
      The fountains mingle with the river,
      And the rivers with the ocean;
      The winds of heaven mix forever
      With a sweet emotion;
      Nothing in the world is single;
      All things by a law divine
      In another's being mingle--
      Why not I with thine?
      See, the mountains kiss high heaven,
      And the waves clasp one another;
      No sister flower could be forgiven
      If it disdained its brother;
      And the sunlight clasps the earth,
      And the moonbeams kiss the sea;--
      What are all these kissings worth,
      If thou kiss not me?
      Rate this poem: Send
        in Poems (Author's Poems)

        Smile

        Smile though your heart is aching
        Smile even though it's breaking
        When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by
        If you smile through your fear and sorrow
        Smile and maybe tomorrow
        You'll see the sun come shining through for you

        Light up your face with gladness
        Hide every trace of sadness
        Although a tear may be ever so near
        That's the time you must keep on trying
        Smile, what's the use of crying?
        You'll find that life is still worthwhile
        If you just smile.
        Rate this poem: Send
          in Poems (Author's Poems)
          Don't wait to finish university,
          to fall in love,
          to find a job,
          to get married,
          to have children,
          to see them settle down,
          to lose those ten pounds,
          for friday evening to arrive or sunday morning,
          spring,
          autumn or winter.
          There isn't a better moment than this to be happy.
          Happiness is a path, not a destination.
          Work as if you didn't need money,
          love as if no one ever hurt you and dance, as if no one saw you.
          Remember that the skin wrinkles up,
          the hair turns white and the days become years.
          But the important things don't change: your strength and conviction have no age.
          Your spirit is the duster that wipes away any cobweb.
          Behind every goal is a new start.
          Behind every result is a new challenge. While you're alive, feel alive.
          Go on, even when everyone expects you to give up.
          Rate this poem: Send
            in Poems (Author's Poems)
            Three matches one by one struck in the night
            The first to see your face in its entirety
            The second to see your eyes
            The last to see your mouth
            And the darkness all around to remind me of all these
            As I hold you in my arms.
            Rate this poem: Send
              Posted by: Save a Quote Staff
              in Poems (Author's Poems)
              I often repeat silently
              that you must live in rememberance only
              when few days are left to me.
              What is past
              is as if never was.
              The past is a lace that
              clenches at my throat to my mind
              and takes energy from facing my present.
              The past is only the smoke
              of who hasn't lived.
              What I have already seen
              doesn't mean anything anymore.
              The past and the future
              aren't reality but only fleeting illusions.
              I must be free from time
              and live the present since there isn't any other time
              than this wonderful moment.
              Rate this poem: Send
                Posted by: mor-joy
                in Poems (Author's Poems)
                We are always asked
                to understand the other person's
                viewpoint
                no matter how
                out-dated
                foolish or
                obnoxious.

                One is asked
                to view
                their total error
                their life-waste
                with
                kindliness,
                especially if they are
                aged.

                But age is the total of
                our doing.
                They have aged
                badly
                because they have
                lived
                out of focus,
                they have refused to
                see.

                Not their fault?

                Whose fault?
                Mine?

                I am asked to hide
                my viewpoint
                from them
                for fear of their
                fear.

                Age is no crime

                but the shame
                of a deliberately
                wasted
                life

                among so many
                deliberately
                wasted
                lives

                is.
                Rate this poem: Send
                  in Poems (Author's Poems)
                  There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
                  There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
                  There is society, where none intrudes,
                  By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
                  I love not man the less, but Nature more,
                  From these our interviews, in which I steal
                  From all I may be, or have been before,
                  To mingle with the Universe, and feel
                  What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
                  Rate this poem: Send
                    Posted by: Sylvia Drago
                    in Poems (Author's Poems)

                    We Never Know How High We Are

                    We never know how high we are
                    Till we are asked to rise
                    And then if we are true to plan
                    Our statures touch the skies -

                    The Heroism we recite
                    Would be a normal thing
                    Did not ourselves the Cubits warp
                    For fear to be a King.
                    Rate this poem: Send