The Road Not Taken Poem by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Mediterranean Girl’s War Phobia Poem by Muzahidul Reza
Indoors by technology, outdoors by speedy transport
I travel the world
Today in Japan, tomorrow in Rome,
Next day by an ancient civilization or in Hawaii or Coast Ivory,
I see, I observe human, nature, society, civilization, earth’s form
Develop feelings with the people from country to country
Know their features, culture
I am not self; they, you and me together; friend and brother
I have nothing alone
We share what we have and to what we belong;
Climate and weather are not fit for long ways
Full of calamities, pollutions spread bitter, musty smell
Neither technologies nor transports work well
Idle times were idly passing along its ancient broadways;
Some long tiring and gloomy days later
A Mediterranean girl, whom I love, has sent me a long letter
In a grey-black envelop asking me to tell something
As if, shortly I make out a time;
I was neither indifferent nor interested
But the tension was tearing me for my friend;
Mesopotamia, the most ancient civilization
Is known not only to you and me but to everyone,
By it the basin of the Mediterranean Sea full of vast water
Around that line after line localities, spirited children’s noisy tour
Know them, too, the people of the world
For them the kind obviously have empty space deep in mind;
To her writings, things changed a lot suddenly and horribly
Since we had met first near the green locality gaily,
Had observed people living there peacefully
Happiness, pleasure, contentment surrounded them heavenly;
Their every dream bloomed as flower
Spread fragrance everywhere;
She will tell me the reasons of so long gap
And what really were happening in fact,
That there were invasions and forcible wars so violent
Where exercising evil powers man shot man like pig,
Exploded heavy, dreadful atom, nuclear and various bombs
Used fatal chemical and poisonous weapons,
To destroy all the relics of the ancient civilizations,
To turn the green world into complete desert,
To abuse and pollute the other spheres
And they had aggressively, hypocritically succeeded
To draw magically black plots everywhere
So, here the rest of humans are living on sands forever;
She will also tell me how she lost everything
How extreme, hazardous troubles the country faced,
How the generations suffered and absolutely fell
How their blooming hopes and dreams were faded away,
Also that the whole world was against their cry
And now why she is quite dumb to say;
Her letter reminds me the chronological history of the wars
Before and after Christ around the human world,
How many kill how many no real statistics of that
And how much are destroyed no such real measures,
Human beings have seen the severe abuses of powers,
The savageries of wars and massacres,
Especially in the 1st and the 2nd two gigantic world wars, as well as
In various wars between armed and armless forces;
And what recently the world has thunderstruckly experienced
To which even the elements shed tears
No sooner had 20th century’s bloody battle fields dried up
Than the wars in force, aggression, genocide, holocaust
In 21st century’s early morning tormenting people began to walk
And broke world’s all the past records in atrocities;
Thus, the destructions always faces the human world
Are chaos, wars, violence, massacres, miseries and loss,
All these curses cause them inborn pained
For some narrow minded, dull headed and brutal natured leaders;
A time I will make out and a place choose soon
For our meeting and conversation,
However and from wherever does blow the melancholic air
My sail will bound for
The red-grey bough and red-ash-silver stream
Where all the oppressed souls crawl and scream;
I will also invite all human beings there
To share over which we are lamenting and shedding tears,
And to take part in centuries’ smallest slogan:
‘Fill the earth with peace; no chaos, no weapons, no wars, no pangs.’
One Art Poem by Elizabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
– Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
Clouds And Waves Poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Mother, the folk who live up in the clouds call out to me-
‘We play from the time we wake till the day ends.
We play with the golden dawn, we play with the silver moon.’
I ask, ‘But how am I to get up to you? ‘
They answer, ‘Come to the edge of the earth, lift up your
hands to the sky, and you will be taken up into the clouds.’
‘My mother is waiting for me at home, ‘I say, ‘How can I leave
her and come? ‘
Then they smile and float away.
But I know a nicer game than that, mother.
I shall be the cloud and you the moon.
I shall cover you with both my hands, and our house-top will
be the blue sky.
The folk who live in the waves call out to me-
‘We sing from morning till night; on and on we travel and know
not where we pass.’
I ask, ‘But how am I to join you? ‘
They tell me, ‘Come to the edge of the shore and stand with
your eyes tight shut, and you will be carried out upon the waves.’
I say, ‘My mother always wants me at home in the everything-
how can I leave her and go? ‘
They smile, dance and pass by.
But I know a better game than that.
I will be the waves and you will be a strange shore.
I shall roll on and on and on, and break upon your lap with
laughter.
And no one in the world will know where we both are.
Sonnet Lxxxi Poem by Pablo Neruda
And now you’re mine. Rest with your dream in my dream.
Love and pain and work should all sleep, now.
The night turns on its invisible wheels,
and you are pure beside me as a sleeping amber.
No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go,
we will go together, over the waters of time.
No one else will travel through the shadows with me,
only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.
Your hands have already opened their delicate fists
and let their soft drifting signs drop away; your eyes closed like two gray
wings, and I move
after, following the folding water you carry, that carries
me away. The night, the world, the wind spin out their destiny.
Without you, I am your dream, only that, and that is all.
A Dream Poem by William Blake
Once a dream did weave a shade
O’er my angel-guarded bed,
That an emmet lost its way
Where on grass methought I lay.
Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,
Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
Over many a tangle spray,
All heart-broke, I heard her say:
‘Oh my children! do they cry,
Do they hear their father sigh?
Now they look abroad to see,
Now return and weep for me.’
Pitying, I dropped a tear:
But I saw a glow-worm near,
Who replied, ‘What wailing wight
Calls the watchman of the night?
‘I am set to light the ground,
While the beetle goes his round:
Follow now the beetle’s hum;
Little wanderer, hie thee home! ‘
Baby’s World Poem by Rabindranath Tagore
I wish I could take a quiet corner in the heart of my baby’s very
own world.
I know it has stars that talk to him, and a sky that stoops
down to his face to amuse him with its silly clouds and rainbows.
Those who make believe to be dumb, and look as if they never
could move, come creeping to his window with their stories and with
trays crowded with bright toys.
I wish I could travel by the road that crosses baby’s mind,
and out beyond all bounds;
Where messengers run errands for no cause between the kingdoms
of kings of no history;
Where Reason makes kites of her laws and flies them, the Truth
sets Fact free from its fetters.
Drinking Alone Poem by Li Po
I take my wine jug out among the flowers
to drink alone, without friends.
I raise my cup to entice the moon.
That, and my shadow, makes us three.
But the moon doesn’t drink,
and my shadow silently follows.
I will travel with moon and shadow,
happy to the end of spring.
When I sing, the moon dances.
When I dance, my shadow dances, too.
We share life’s joys when sober.
Drunk, each goes a separate way.
Constant friends, although we wander,
we’ll meet again in the Milky Way.
Laughter And Tears Ix Poem by Kahlil Gibran
As the Sun withdrew his rays from the garden, and the moon threw cushioned beams upon the flowers, I sat under the trees pondering upon the phenomena of the atmosphere, looking through the branches at the strewn stars which glittered like chips of silver upon a blue carpet; and I could hear from a distance the agitated murmur of the rivulet singing its way briskly into the valley.
When the birds took shelter among the boughs, and the flowers folded their petals, and tremendous silence descended, I heard a rustle of feet though the grass. I took heed and saw a young couple approaching my arbor. The say under a tree where I could see them without being seen.
After he looked about in every direction, I heard the young man saying, ‘Sit by me, my beloved, and listen to my heart; smile, for your happiness is a symbol of our future; be merry, for the sparkling days rejoice with us.
‘My soul is warning me of the doubt in your heart, for doubt in love is a sin. ‘Soon you will be the owner of this vast land, lighted by this beautiful moon; soon you will be the mistress of my palace, and all the servants and maids will obey your commands.
‘Smile, my beloved, like the gold smiles from my father’s coffers.
‘My heart refuses to deny you its secret. Twelve months of comfort and travel await us; for a year we will spend my father’s gold at the blue lakes of Switzerland, and viewing the edifices of Italy and Egypt, and resting under the Holy Cedars of Lebanon; you will meet the princesses who will envy you for your jewels and clothes.
‘All these things I will do for you; will you be satisfied? ‘
In a little while I saw them walking and stepping on flowers as the rich step upon the hearts of the poor. As they disappeared from my sight, I commenced to make comparison between love and money, and to analyze their position in the heart.
Money! The source of insincere love; the spring of false light and fortune; the well of poisoned water; the desperation of old age!
I was still wandering in the vast desert of contemplation when a forlorn and specter-like couple passed by me and sat on the grass; a young man and a young woman who had left their farming shacks in the nearby fields for this cool and solitary place.
After a few moments of complete silence, I heard the following words uttered with sighs from weather-bitten lips, ‘Shed not tears, my beloved; love that opens our eyes and enslaves our hearts can give us the blessing of patience. Be consoled in our delay our delay, for we have taken an oath and entered Love’s shrine; for our love will ever grow in adversity; for it is in Love’s name that we are suffering the obstacles of poverty and the sharpness of misery and the emptiness of separation. I shall attack these hardships until I triumph and place in your hands a strength that will help over all things to complete the journey of life.
‘Love – which is God – will consider our sighs and tears as incense burned at His altar and He will reward us with fortitude. Good-bye, my beloved; I must leave before the heartening moon vanishes.’
A pure voice, combined of the consuming flame of love, and the hopeless bitterness of longing and the resolved sweetness of patience, said, ‘Good-bye, my beloved.’
They separated, and the elegy to their union was smothered by the wails of my crying heart.
I looked upon slumbering Nature, and with deep reflection discovered the reality of a vast and infinite thing – something no power could demand, influence acquire, nor riches purchase. Nor could it be effaced by the tears of time or deadened by sorrow; a thing which cannot be discovered by the blue lakes of Switzerland or the beautiful edifices of Italy.
It is something that gathers strength with patience, grows despite obstacles, warms in winter, flourishes in spring, casts a breeze in summer, and bears fruit in autumn – I found Love.
Suzanne Poem by Leonard Cohen
Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river
You can hear the boats go by
You can spend the night beside her
And you know that she’s half crazy
But that’s why you want to be there
And she feeds you tea and oranges
That come all the way from China
And just when you mean to tell her
That you have no love to give her
Then she gets you on her wavelength
And she lets the river answer
That you’ve always been her lover
And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that she will trust you
For you’ve touched her perfect body with your mind.