This page is specially prepared for people poems. You can reach newest and popular people poems from this page. You can vote and comment on the people poems you read.
The Super Hostess
It was as a little child
And one who was very shy
That I first looked at the sky.
Soon enough I started wondering and asking myself
C K Rawat
It was another beautiful day went by
Forget all bad times that made you cry
Instead keep in heart all good memories
Be thankful for all troubles that you faced
Ma. Cristina Colima
So many times I thought about yesterday
A day that I was innocent in every way
When I was just a little girl who was playing all day
And just cried when someone ruined my day.
Ma. Cristina Colima
Forever Is My Destination
Marriage is a union of family a union of love
Different people become one to celebrate
To celebrate a new union of blessing
Love is such a gift to human kind
Last night I fell asleep watching the moon from my bedroom window
I imagined that you were watching it too
And for that moment
In This Land
What can be said of this land
With my people threading on it
It has become a wailing land
Life is born and given away
While it flawlessly divines itself during the shine and the rain,
All the while it stands boldly upright;
Keeping the thought of being colossal away,
While people are trying to bring it down;
Life is too short
So, enjoy the moment of every sort.
Life is most precious
With the people who are glorious.
Scars Have Past
Every day you see your Scars,
The scars that define your past,
The scars that define what you are,
The scars that will interfere with your future,
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!
Minds are deluded but
Not from beginning
Ignorance makes it, however
Essences of mind is crystal pure.
Act like them, you won’t make it
Appreciate their era, for who you are today
Griddles’ threaten your health, forgiveness heals
10 million budget function is nothing, for they are not alive
You And Me
I'm part of people I have known
And they are part of me;
The seeds of thought that I have sown
In other minds I see.
“He is mad as a hare, poor fellow,
And should be in chains,” you say.
I haven't a doubt of your statement,
But who isn't mad, I pray?
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
The Secret People
Smile at us, pay us, pass us; but do not quite forget.
For we are the people of England, that never have spoken yet.
There is many a fat farmer that drinks less cheerfully,
There is many a free French peasant who is richer and sadder than we.
G. K. Chesterton
White founts falling in the courts of the sun,
And the Soldan of Byzantium is smiling as they run;
There is laughter like the fountains in that face of all men feared,
It stirs the forest darkness, the darkness of his beard,
G. K. Chesterton
I welcome you my son on earth
More especially in this continent of Africa
In a village of which her people are only warm to foreigners
Feel free my son, I am here for you
Stupid Pencil Maker
Some dummy built this pencil wrong,
The eraser's down here where the point belongs,
And the point's at the top - so it's no good to me,
It's amazing how stupid some people can be.
Who Needs School?
In the future, fifteen years from now,
This won't matter,
My name carved into that desk will just be a carving,
And the pot-bellied children will still be starving.
Mr. Kessler, you know, was in the army,
And he drew six dollars a month as a pension,
And stood on the corner talking politics,
Or sat at home reading Grant's Memoirs;
Edgar Lee Masters
THE STORM ( written by Mr. Maleke Mohono)
Strong wind of horror
Wind of disaster
Nobody Warned Me
Nobody told me the rode will have so much pain
Nobody told me that love will leave me feeling this way
I always hear people talking about the pain of the physical kind
Nobody warned me about the emotional pain
They told to Marie Antoinette:
“The beggers at your gate
Have eyes too sad for tears to wet,
And for your pity wait.”
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,
I see how you look into the mirror
The self-doubt that has you still gazing into it
Noticing the scars that lay revealed
And the teary eyes that blur your sight
I'll know the names of all of the birds
and flowers, and not only that, I'll
tell you the name of the piano player
I'm hearing right now on the kitchen
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
Nobody knows what I feel about Freddy
I cannot make anyone understand
I love him sub specie aet ernitaties
I love him out of hand.
The sun is burning a hole in your pocket
and though very slowly you are making
S. K. Kelen
It is like a sword,
Made from one word.
People who can't bear it,
They shouldn't hear it.
They tell me that your heart
has been found in Iowa,
pumping along Interstate 35.
Do you want it back?
Law Like Love
Law, say the gardeners, is the sun,
Law is the one
All gardeners obey
To-morrow, yesterday, to-day.
W. H. Auden
Old People’s Home
All are limitory, but each has her own
nuance of damage. The elite can dress and decent themselves,
are ambulant with a single stick, adroit
to read a book all through, or play the slow movements of
W. H. Auden
There is a grace in the way people do things, even the simplest tasks-
the dance with which their fingers encircle the chicken's gaze, coaxing
the edges of its eyes into paleness, their calling upon it to rest now,
their speaking in a way that acknowledges something common to both of them-
A Hundred Collars
Lancaster bore him-such a little town,
Such a great man. It doesn't see him often
Of late years, though he keeps the old homestead
And sends the children down there with their mother
“You ought to have seen what I saw on my way
To the village, through Mortenson's pasture to-day:
Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb,
Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum
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
In The Home Stretch
She stood against the kitchen sink, and looked
Over the sink out through a dusty window
At weeds the water from the sink made tall.
She wore her cape; her hat was in her hand.