Truth Poems | Poems about truth for National Poetry Day

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    Ultimately Poem by Ernest Hemingway

    He tried to spit out the truth;
    Dry-mouthed at first,
    He drooled and slobbered in the end;
    Truth dribbling his chin.

     

     

    Poems On Beauty Poem by Rabindranath Tagore

    Beauty is truth’s smile
    when she beholds her own face in a perfect mirror.

    Beauty is in the ideal of perfect harmony
    which is in the universal being;
    truth the perfect comprehension of the universal mind.

     

     

    Beauty Is A Light Poem by Rahman Henry

    At times and in some cases
    Truth can be mixed with
    Guile and guilt
    Truth can be manipulated

    Beauty is mightier than the truth

    Beauty tastes sweet
    Even in a lit-less night
    Where no moon is visible

    Beauty herself is a light
    That no darkness can conceal

     

     

    The Truth In You Poem by Sylvia Chidi

    I seek the truth in you
    The weak lie is not you
    So speak up, yes you

    The truth hurts but it works
    The truth simplifies and dignifies
    The truth sooths preserving your youth

    I ask the truth of you
    Cry now, take a tissue
    So speak up, yes you

    The truth signifies and modifies
    The truth is within and the best way to begin
    The truth is a good start especially for sweethearts

    I need the truth of you
    Simply choose your venue
    So speak up, yes you

    The truth to any degree
    Is a starting point to be free
    Just like one and two make three
    So speak up, yes you
    If you agree

     

     

    Good Counsel Of Chaucer Poem by Geoffrey Chaucer

    Flee from the press, and dwell with soothfastness;
    Suffice thee thy good, though it be small;
    For hoard hath hate, and climbing tickleness,
    Press hath envy, and weal is blent o’er all,
    Savour no more than thee behove shall;
    Read well thyself, that other folk canst read;
    And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.

    Paine thee not each crooked to redress,
    In trust of her that turneth as a ball;
    Great rest standeth in little business:
    Beware also to spurn against a nail;
    Strive not as doth a crocke with a wall;
    Deeme thyself that deemest others’ deed,
    And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.

    What thee is sent, receive in buxomness;
    The wrestling of this world asketh a fall;
    Here is no home, here is but wilderness.
    Forth, pilgrim! Forthe beast, out of thy stall!
    Look up on high, and thank thy God of all!
    Weive thy lust, and let thy ghost thee lead,
    And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.

     

     

    Cinemascope Poem by Ernestine Northover

    I was thinking that, when we get to heaven,
    will we be made to sit in an auditorium,
    and be shown on a huge ‘CinemaScope’ screen
    a film of ‘our life’ from start to finish,
    the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

    Scaring?

    Could be! Looking back, reviewing things,
    things you’d rather not look back on.

    Analysing each second, minute, and hour,
    day, month and year.

    Shrinking lower and lower into your seat.

    No escape! No way out! – It would be compulsory!

    How would you feel after all that ‘revealing stuff’.

    Makes you realise that what we make of our lives
    could be very important – later!

    Trouble is, there’s no going back
    and clicking on ‘EDIT’ – is there!

     

     

    I Dreamed. Poem by Emma Wright

    I dreamed a dream and in that dream,
    I dreamed that I had dreamed a dream,
    Of hope and fairytales come true,
    I dreamed a dream and thought of truth,
    I dreamed a dream of life and love,
    Of fate and angels and God above,
    I dreamed a dream of good wishes and friends,
    I dreamed a dream I dreaded to end,
    But then I woke into my dream,
    I dreamed I woke in a world obscene,
    I dreamed a dream of violence and hate,
    And once again I dreamed of fate,
    I dreamed a dream of terror and fear,
    I dreamed that each word went unheard,
    And so children never spoke a word,
    I dreamed a dream of demons and beasts,
    I dreamed a dream that ended at last,
    I woke in my bed and wondered if,
    I dreamed a dream of dreams or if,
    I dreamed a dream of truth that night,
    And if so I wondered which was truth,
    And which was merely a dream.

     

     

    ! A Platonic Reminiscence Of A Great Lady Poem by Michael Shepherd

    Someone mentioned your name yesterday
    and I was silent

    You loved goodness, you were goodness,
    and I think goodness must have
    loved you; and we,
    we loved you for your goodness

    You loved truth, spoke truth,
    and surely the truth
    loved you for loving it; and how
    we loved to hear you
    speaking truth

    You loved beauty in
    so many ways that beauty
    blessed you: in movement,
    in actions, in thought, in words and yes
    the beauty of goodness and
    the beauty of truth shone from you –
    how could we not love you
    beyond you?

    How often in this poem to you
    the word love appears
    as it did
    in you

     

     

    Lies About Love Poem by David Herbert Lawrence

    We are a liars, because
    the truth of yesterday becomes a lie tomorrow,
    whereas letters are fixed,
    and we live by the letter of truth.
    The love I feel for my friend, this year,
    is different from the love I felt last year.
    If it were not so, it would be a lie.
    Yet we reiterate love! love! love!
    as if it were a coin with a fixed value
    instead of a flower that dies, and opens a different bud.