This page is specially prepared for change poems. You can reach newest and popular change poems from this page. You can vote and comment on the change poems you read.
It was beautiful when things
Were normal between you and me.
When there were meaning to greetings,
When you spoke without a worry.
Last night I fell asleep watching the moon from my bedroom window
I imagined that you were watching it too
And for that moment
Do memories last forever?
This thought runs through the mind of thinkers.
Memories are destined to fade,
But your most important memories,
I still remember the day I saw you
What you wore how you looked
And I did some stupid things I can't lie
Maybe because I was still but a child
To The Brightest Star
It was only a while ago,
You opened the door to my world.
As time passed our hearts did grow,
Beautiful tales were told.
A Servant To Servants
I didn't make you know how glad I was
To have you come and camp here on our land.
I promised myself to get down some day
And see the way you lived, but I don't know!
I decided to write a diary,
In a regular way.
As I got encouraged,
By my teacher a day.
The kindest hearts pray for change
God didn't answer when it was Grey
The child inside me cried for so long
The world was actually not against me
I Singed Her To Sleep
Look in my eyes,
What's in your eyes?
What can you see when you look in my eyes?
Your eyes is so meek and full of kindness,
One Man- Thousand Feelings
Of course I miss you. I miss your laughter, your lame jokes, your touch, your voice, your brown eyes. I never stop waiting for you. Not a day goes by that I dont look at your pictures and smile. When I'm lost, I look for you. Nothing will ever change except for my love for you will grow more with each day.
I promise that I will love you for who you are. I feel the need to be with you forever. I love it when you give me your full attention. My love is not really a feeling, but its a kind of commitment to love you every day emotionally and physically when we'll be together. You're a blessing in my life.
The hulk of a man with a beer in his hand looked like a drunk old fool,
And I knew that if I hit him right, I could knock him off that stool.
But everybody said, 'Watch out, that's Tiger Man McCool.
He's had a whole lot of fights, and he always come out the winner.
The Cupid’s Arrow
The Cupid’s arrow has your name; it got stucked in my heart; but
Friendship is our only description; hoping that it is not the final of destiny’s decision.
Sometimes I have question;
“Why do I like you?”
Out Of The East
When man first walked upright and soberly
Reflecting as he paced to and fro,
And no more swinging from wide tree to tree,
Or sheltered by vast boles from sheltered foe,
No To Xenophobia
Michael Johnson once said " I don't fancy colors of the face, I'm always attracted to colors of the brain"
I understand we all have our differences.
But while learning about history
On A Dead Child
Perfect little body, without fault or stain on thee,
With promise of strength and manhood full and fair!
Though cold and stark and bare,
The bloom and the charm of life doth awhile remain on thee.
The Last Days
The russet leaves of the sycamore
Lie at last on the valley floor-
By the autumn wind swept to and fro
Like ghosts in a tale of long ago.
The Law Of The Jungle
Now this is the Law of the Jungle -- as old and as true as the sky; And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die. AAs the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk the Law runneth forward and back --
For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.
To A Fallen Elm
Old Elm that murmured in our chimney top
The sweetest anthem autumn ever made
And into mellow whispering calms would drop
When showers fell on thy many coloured shade
*ALLAH DOESN'T FORGIVE ASSOCIATING PARTNER WITH HIM, BUT HE FORGIVES ANYTHING ELSE TO WHOMSOEVER HE WISHES (Q4:48)*
Paciolo Pen Saint
What is it to grow old?
Is it to lose the glory of the form,
The lustre of the eye?
Is it for beauty to forego her wreath?
Hark! ah, the nightingale-
Hark, from that moonlit cedar what a burst!
What triumph! hark!-what pain!
The Scholar Gypsy
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill;
Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes!
No longer leave thy wistful flock unfed,
Nor let thy bawling fellows rack their throats,
As the kindling glances,
Queen-like and clear,
Which the bright moon lances
From her tranquil sphere
Sir, no man's enemy, forgiving all
But will his negative inversion, be prodigal:
Send to us power and light, a sovereign touch
Curing the intolerable neural itch,
W. H. Auden
Fear death?-to feel the fog in my throat,
The mist in my face,
When the snows begin, and the blasts denote
I am nearing the place,
Where had I heard this wind before
Change like this to a deeper roar?
What would it take my standing there for,
Holding open a restive door,
He saw her from the bottom of the stairs
Before she saw him. She was starting down,
Looking back over her shoulder at some fear.
She took a doubtful step and then undid it
The Black Cottage
We chanced in passing by that afternoon
To catch it in a sort of special picture
Among tar-banded ancient cherry trees,
Set well back from the road in rank lodged grass,
The Exposed Nest
You were forever finding some new play.
So when I saw you down on hands and knees
I the meadow, busy with the new-cut hay,
Trying, I thought, to set it up on end,
“Willis, I didn't want you here to-day:
The lawyer's coming for the company.
I'm going to sell my soul, or, rather, feet.
Five hundred dollars for the pair, you know.”
Endymion: Book Ii
O Sovereign power of love! O grief! O balm!
All records, saving thine, come cool, and calm,
And shadowy, through the mist of passed years:
For others, good or bad, hatred and tears
Endymion: Book Iii
There are who lord it o'er their fellow-men
With most prevailing tinsel: who unpen
Their baaing vanities, to browse away
The comfortable green and juicy hay
Endymion: Book Iv
Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse!
O first-born on the mountains! by the hues
Of heaven on the spiritual air begot:
Long didst thou sit alone in northern grot,
Hyperion: Book I
Deep in the shady sadness of a vale
Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,
Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star,
Sat gray-hair'd Saturn, quiet as a stone,
Ode On Indolence
One morn before me were three figures seen,
I With bowed necks, and joined hands, side-faced;
And one behind the other stepp'd serene,
In placid sandals, and in white robes graced;
The Eve Of St. Agnes
St. Agnes' Eve-Ah, bitter chill it was!
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass,
And silent was the flock in woolly fold: