Browse Best Famous People Poetry, we have a special collection of superb, one line and short Famous People Poetry. Get Beautiful Famous People Poetry.
- 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
Recluse for writing
Pinning away alone
Set the poet’s tone
Life of isolation
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
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…’