Running Poems | Running Poems to Get You Through


    April Rain Song Poem by Langston Hughes

    Let the rain kiss you
    Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
    Let the rain sing you a lullaby
    The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
    The rain makes running pools in the gutter
    The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night
    And I love the rain.



    Evolution Poem by Sherman Alexie.

    Buffalo Bill opens a pawn shop on the reservation
    right across the border from the liquor store
    and he stays open 24 hours a day,7 days a week

    and the Indians come running in with jewelry
    television sets, a VCR, a full-lenght beaded buckskin outfit
    it took Inez Muse 12 years to finish. Buffalo Bill

    takes everything the Indians have to offer, keeps it
    all catalogues and filed in a storage room. The Indians
    pawn their hands, saving the thumbs for last, they pawn

    their skeletons, falling endlessly from the skin
    and when the last Indian has pawned everything
    but his heart, Buffalo Bill takes that for twenty bucks

    closes up the pawn shop, paints a new sign over the old
    charges the Indians five bucks a head to enter.



    Pine Forest Poem by Gabriela Mistral

    Let us go now into the forest.
    Trees will pass by your face,
    and I will stop and offer you to them,
    but they cannot bend down.
    The night watches over its creatures,
    except for the pine trees that never change:
    the old wounded springs that spring
    blessed gum, eternal afternoons.
    If they could, the trees would lift you
    and carry you from valley to valley,
    and you would pass from arm to arm,
    a child running
    from father to father.



    A Dream Poem by Boris Pasternak

    I dreamt of autumn in the window’s twilight,
    And you, a tipsy jesters’ throng amidst. ‘
    And like a falcon, having stooped to slaughter,
    My heart returned to settle on your wrist.

    But time went on, grew old and deaf. Like thawing
    Soft ice old silk decayed on easy chairs.
    A bloated sunset from the garden painted
    The glass with bloody red September tears.

    But time grew old and deaf. And you, the loud one,
    Quite suddenly were still. This broke a spell.
    The dreaming ceased at once, as though in answer
    To an abruptly silenced bell.

    And I awakened. Dismal as the autumn
    The dawn was dark. A stronger wind arose
    To chase the racing birchtrees on the skyline,
    As from a running cart the streams of straws.



    Last Dawn Poem by Octavio Paz

    Your hair is lost in the forest,
    your feet touching mine.
    Asleep you are bigger than the night,
    but your dream fits within this room.
    How much we are who are so little!
    Outside a taxi passes
    with its load of ghosts.
    The river that runs by
    is always
    running back.
    Will tomorrow be another day?



    Let These Be Your Desires Poem by Kahlil Gibran

    Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself
    But if your love and must needs have desires,
    Let these be your desires:

    To melt and be like a running brook
    That sings its melody to the night.
    To know the pain of too much tenderness.
    To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
    And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
    To wake at dawn with a winged heart
    And give thanks for another day of loving;
    To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
    To return home at eventide with gratitude;
    And then to sleep with a prayer
    For the beloved in your heart
    And a song of praise upon your lips.



    Running Wolf Poem by Dave Alan Walker

    In my dream
    I dream I am you
    running wolf

    As you run through
    the valleys of truth
    I see the dew
    I see the trees
    as though I am you
    I see through your eyes
    I feel your fears
    I feel your heart beating

    I see indians dancing
    round fires of peace
    I see the fears
    of what the white man brings
    I see peace and harmony
    and a place for me

    Running wolf
    one of truth
    why is there a place for me

    Because my light and soul
    I am the reincarnation of you



    Question And Answer Poem by Charles Bukowski

    he sat naked and drunk in a room of summer
    night, running the blade of the knife
    under his fingernails, smiling, thinking
    of all the letters he had received
    telling him that
    the way he lived and wrote about
    it had kept them going when
    all seemed



    The Mothering Blackness Poem by Maya Angelou

    She came home running
    back to the mothering blackness
    deep in the smothering blackness
    white tears icicle gold plains of her face
    She came home running

    She came down creeping
    here to the black arms waiting
    now to the warm heart waiting
    rime of alien dreams befrosts her rich brown face
    She came down creeping

    She came home blameless
    black yet as Hagar’s daughter
    tall as was Sheba’s daughter
    threats of northern winds die on the desert’s face
    She came home blameless



    Promise Of Peace Poem by Robinson Jeffers

    The heads of strong old age are beautiful
    Beyond all grace of youth. They have strange quiet,
    Integrity, health, soundness, to the full
    They’ve dealt with life and been tempered by it.
    A young man must not sleep; his years are war,
    Civil and foreign but the former’s worse;
    But the old can breathe in safety now that they are
    Forgetting what youth meant, the being perverse,
    Running the fool’s gauntlet and being cut
    By the whips of the five senses. As for me,
    If I should wish to live long it were but
    To trade those fevers for tranquillity,
    Thinking though that’s entire and sweet in the grave
    How shall the dead taste the deep treasure they have?