Famous Short Solitude Poems
Famous Short Solitude Poems. Short Solitude Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Solitude short poems
by
Tupac Shakur
How can there be peace?
How can I be in the depths of solitude
When there are two inside of me?
This duo in me causes the perfect opportunity
To learn and live twice as fast
As those who accept simplicity.
.
.
by
Tupac Shakur
i exist in the depths of solitude
pondering my true goal
trying 2 find peace of mind
and still preserve my soul
constantly yearning 2 be accepted
and from all receive respect
never comprising but sometimes risky
and that is my only regret
a young heart with an old soul
how can there be peace
how can i be in the depths of solitude
when there r 2 inside of me
this duo within me causes
the perfect oppurtunity
2 learn and live twice as fast
as those who accept simplicity
by
Matsuo Basho
Winter solitude--
in a world of one color
the sound of wind.
by
William Butler Yeats
I dreamed that one had died in a strange place
Near no accustomed hand,
And they had nailed the boards above her face,
The peasants of that land,
Wondering to lay her in that solitude,
And raised above her mound
A cross they had made out of two bits of wood,
And planted cypress round;
And left her to the indifferent stars above
Until I carved these words:
She was more beautiful than thy first love,
But now lies under boards.
by
Omar Khayyam
Now the New Year reviving old Desires,
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,
Where the White Hand of Moses on the Bough
Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.
by
Alexander Pushkin
He's blessed, who lives in peace, that's distant
From the ignorant fobs with calls,
Who can provide his every instance
With dreams, or labors, or recalls;
To whom the fate sends friends in score,
Who hides himself by Savior's back
From bashful fools, which lull and bore,
And from the impudent ones, which wake.
by
Emily Dickinson
A lane of Yellow led the eye
Unto a Purple Wood
Whose soft inhabitants to be
Surpasses solitude
If Bird the silence contradict
Or flower presume to show
In that low summer of the West
Impossible to know --
by
Paul Eluard
I cannot be known
Better than you know me
Your eyes in which we sleep
We together
Have made for my man's gleam
A better fate than for the common nights
Your eyes in which I travel
Have given to signs along the roads
A meaning alien to the earth
In your eyes who reveal to us
Our endless solitude
Are no longer what they thought themselves to be
You cannot be known
Better than I know you.
by
Emily Dickinson
On my volcano grows the Grass
A meditative spot --
An acre for a Bird to choose
Would be the General thought --
How red the Fire rocks below --
How insecure the sod
Did I disclose
Would populate with awe my solitude.
by
Robert Bly
I start out for a walk at last after weeks at the desk.
Moon gone plowing underfoot no stars; not a trace of light!
Suppose a horse were galloping toward me in this open field?
Every day I did not spend in solitude was wasted.
by
Emily Dickinson
New feet within my garden go --
New fingers stir the sod --
A Troubadour upon the Elm
Betrays the solitude.
New children play upon the green --
New Weary sleep below --
And still the pensive Spring returns --
And still the punctual snow!
by
Walter de la Mare
'What is the world, O soldiers?
It is I:
I, this incessant snow,
This northern sky;
Soldiers, this solitude
Through which we go
Is I.
'
by
Charles Baudelaire
Take me by the hand;
it's so easy for you, Angel,
for you are the road
even while being immobile.
You see, I'm scared no one
here will look for me again;
I couldn't make use of
whatever was given,
so they abandoned me.
At first the solitude
charmed me like a prelude,
but so much music wounded me.
by
Emily Dickinson
There is a solitude of space
A solitude of sea
A solitude of death, but these
Society shall be
Compared with that profounder site
That polar privacy
A soul admitted to itself --
Finite infinity.
by
Anonymous
Morn amid the mountains,
Lovely solitude,
Gushing streams and fountains,
Murmur, “God is good.
”Now the glad sun, breaking,
Pours a golden flood;
Deepest vales awaking,
Echo, “God is good.
”Wake and join the chorus,
Man with soul endued!
He, whose smile is o’er us,
God,—our God,—is good.
by
Anne Bronte
I love the silent hour of night,
For blissful dreams may then arise,
Revealing to my charmed sight
What may not bless my waking eyes!
And then a voice may meet my ear
That death has silenced long ago;
And hope and rapture may appear
Instead of solitude and woe.
Cold in the grave for years has lain
The form it was my bliss to see,
And only dreams can bring again
The darling of my heart to me.
by
William Carlos (WCW) Williams
Snow falls:
years of anger following
hours that float idly down—
the blizzard
drifts its weight
deeper and deeper for three days
or sixty years, eh? Then
the sun! a clutter of
yellow and blue flakes—
Hairy looking trees stand out
in long alleys
over a wild solitude.
The man turns and there—
his solitary track stretched out
upon the world.
by
Emily Dickinson
The Thrill came slowly like a Boom for
Centuries delayed
Its fitness growing like the Flood
In sumptuous solitude --
The desolations only missed
While Rapture changed its Dress
And stood amazed before the Change
In ravished Holiness --
by
Walt Whitman
A NEWER garden of creation, no primal solitude,
Dense, joyous, modern, populous millions, cities and farms,
With iron interlaced, composite, tied, many in one,
By all the world contributed—freedom’s and law’s and thrift’s society,
The crown and teeming paradise, so far, of time’s accumulations,
To justify the past.
by
William Butler Yeats
I bade, because the wick and oil are spent
And frozen are the channels of the blood,
My discontented heart to draw content
From beauty that is cast out of a mould
In bronze, or that in dazzling marble appears,
Appears, but when wc have gone is gone again,
Being more indifferent to our solitude
Than 'twere an apparition.
O heart, we are old;
The living beauty is for younger men:
We cannot pay its rribute of wild tears.
by
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
OH ye kindly nymphs, who dwell 'mongst the rocks and the thickets,
Grant unto each whatsoe'er he may in silence desire!
Comfort impart to the mourner, and give to the doubter instruction,
And let the lover rejoice, finding the bliss that he craves.
For from the gods ye received what they ever denied unto mortals,
Power to comfort and aid all who in you may confide.
1782.