Topic of the Day: war
Avoid conflict
Conflict demolishes
Wealth house
Avoid conflict.
Conflict perishes
Body Soul
Avoid conflict.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Conflict demolishes
Wealth house
Avoid conflict.
Conflict perishes
Body Soul
Avoid conflict.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
More about war...
The process of preparing programs for a digital computer is especially attractive, not only because it can be economically and scientifically rewarding, but also because it can be an aesthetic experience much like composing poetry or music.
quote by Donald E. Knuth
Added by Lucian Velea
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Old age is gentle as an autumn morn;
The harvest over, you will put the plough
Into another, stronger hand, and watch
The sowing you were wont to do.
Old age
Is like an alabaster room, with soft
White curtains. All is light, but light so mild,
So quiet, that it cannot hurt.
The pangs
Are hushed, for life is wild no more with strife,
Nor breathless uphill work, nor heavy with
The brewing tempests, which have torn away
So much, that nothing more remains to fear.
What once was hope, is gone. You know. You saw
The worst, and not a sigh is left of all
The heavy sighs that tore your heart, and not
A tear of all those tears that burnt your cheeks,
And ploughed the forrows into them.
You see
How others work again and weep again,
[...] Read more
poem by Carmen Sylva
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Melodies of romance harmonize
with aquamarine ocean
Constant waves gently touch
golden sandy beaches
Oceanic breeze embraces palms
in a passionate motion
Blowing towards the land
a refreshing ventilation
As the time goes by evening sun
slowly dips down
Sparkling glow timely fades
on the distant horizon
Melting the beauties of the day
on crimson sky
Lighting lumninous flambeaus
by the seaside
[...] Read more
poem by Hemakumar Nanayakkara
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She says, "I am content when wakened birds,
Before they fly, test the reality
Of misty fields, by their sweet questionings;
But when the birds are gone, and their warm fields
Return no more, where, then, is paradise?"
There is not any haunt of prophecy,
Nor any old chimera of the grave,
Neither the golden underground, nor isle
Melodious, where spirits gat them home,
Nor visionary south, nor cloudy palm
Remote on heaven's hill, that has endured
As April's green endures; or will endure
Like her remembrance of awakened birds,
Or her desire for June and evening, tipped
By the consummation of the swallow's wings.
poem by Wallace Stevens
These verses are part of a series | Full series
Added by Dan Costinaş
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