Famous People Poetry

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• The flame-red moon, the harvest moon,
  Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing,
  A vast balloon,
  Till it takes off, and sinks upward
  To lie on the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon.

  The harvest moon has come,
  Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon.

  And the earth replies all night, like a deep drum.

  So people can’t sleep,
  So they go out where elms and oak trees keep
  A kneeling vigil, in a religious hush.

• The harvest moon has come!

  And all the moonlit cows and all the sheep
  Stare up at her petrified, while she swells
  Filling heaven, as if red hot, and sailing
  Closer and closer like the end of the world.

  Till the gold fields of stiff wheat
  Cry `We are ripe, reap us!’ and the rivers
  Sweat from the melting hills.

• Weigh me the fire; or canst thou find
  A way to measure out the wind?
  Distinguish all those floods that are
  Mixed in that wat’ry theater,
  And taste thou them as saltless there,
  As in their channel first they were.

  Tell me the people that do keep
  Within the kingdoms of the deep;
  Or fetch me back that cloud again,
  Beshivered into seeds of rain.

  Tell me the motes, dust, sands, and spears
  Of corn, when summer shakes his ears;
  Show me that world of stars, and whence
  They noiseless spill their influence.

  This if thou canst; then show me Him
  That rides the glorious cherubim.

• I shall not sing a May song.

  A May song should be gay.

  I’ll wait until November
  And sing a song of gray.

  I’ll wait until November
  That is the time for me.

  I’ll go out in the frosty dark
  And sing most terribly.

  And all the little people
  Will stare at me and say,
  “That is the Crazy Woman
  Who would not sing in May.

• Lore of legend raise
  Gifted poet’s praise
  The creative source
  For poetry’s course
  Solitude inviting
  Recluse for writing
  Pinning away alone
  Set the poet’s tone
  Life of isolation
  Denied recognition
  The myth has last
  Recluse of Amherst cast
  Success later came
  In posthumous fame
  Her poetry is left
  To speak for itself
  As legends grow old
  A story left untold
  By the poetry creation
  Legacy of Emily Dickinson

• Annie, get your gun
  The legend has begun
  Popularity world wide
  Success was on her side
  Legendary myths twist
  “Little Sure Shot” didn’t miss
  Billed as girl next door
  Audience crowds applaud
  Galloped into the range
  Leaving the sport changed
  The legend had its run
  Annie, put away your gun

• Walt Whitman’s desire
  Long Island inspired
  Rolling lines of poetry
  Island’s coastal sea
  Founder to compress
  Long Islander Press
  Homily of life then
  Scenic poems penned
  Montauk’s sharks pass
  Shades of “Leaves of Grass”
  Long Island befit
  Making of a poet

• So, we’ll go no more a-roving

  So late into the night,

  Though the heart be still as loving,

  And the moon be still as bright.

  For the sword outwears its sheath,

  And the soul wears out the breast,

  And the heart must pause to breathe,

  And love itself have rest.

  Though the night was made for loving,

  And the day returns too soon,

  Yet we’ll go no more a-roving

  By the light of the moon.

• We are the hollow men
  We are the stuffed men
  Leaning together
  Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
  Our dried voices, when
  We whisper together
  Are quiet and meaningless
  As wind in dry grass
  Or rats’ feet over broken glass
  In our dry cellar

  Shape without form, shade without colour,
  Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

  Those who have crossed
  With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
  Remember us-if at all-not as lost
  Violent souls, but only
  As the hollow menThe stuffed men.

• Strange, when people speaks truth.
  Especially around selected group.
  And the truth gets out to the public.
  They always claims, they misinterpreted

  Famous people, misinterpreted.
  Of course, the politicians constantly states this.
  Until the story becomes true.
  Then their reputation is used to hold up the honors of them.

  We, know somewhere?
  They spoke honesty.
  Which is always leaked.

  Even showcasing many as bigots.
  Which you can see by the friends they keep.

  Until the news exposed them.
  Then they misinterpreted again.
  Darn!-when will this excuse ever end?

• “I.D. Blues” by Charlie Sheen
  “‘Excuse me, aren’t you…?’
  ‘Hey, you look just like…’
  ‘Oh my God, that’s…’
  ‘Sorry to interrupt your dinner, but aren’t you…’
  ‘Look, I never do this, but, my wife thinks you’re…’
  ‘My friend is so convinced that you’re…’
  ‘I’m so embarrassed, but, aren’t you…?’
  ‘I know you must be tired of this, but…’
  ‘WAIT!!’