GoodPoetry

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"A Learned Man Came to Me Once" by Stephen Crane

A learned man came to me once.

He said, "I know the way, -- come."

And I was overjoyed at this.

Together we hastened.

Soon, too soon, were we

Where my eyes were useless,

And I knew not the ways of my feet.

I clung to the hand of my friend;

But at last he cried, "I am lost."

Listen to more GoodPoetry at www.GoodPoetry.org, iTunes, Stitcher and GooglePlay Music and connect with us @itsGoodPoetry on Facebook, and Twitter.

Listen to more GoodPoetry at www.GoodPoetry.org, iTunes, Stitcher and GooglePlay Music and connect with us @itsGoodPoetry on Facebook, and Twitter.

Listen to more GoodPoetry at www.GoodPoetry.org, iTunes, Stitcher and GooglePlay Music and connect with us @itsGoodPoetry on Facebook, and Twitter.

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I know I’m not that pretty,

But I have a smile that glows.

I may not be that pretty,

But I know more than you’ll ever know.

I may have chubby face:

But I can warm you with my grace

And I may have height as coal,

But I have heart that always grows.

So, maybe will come the day when I have perfect cheek bones.

But, until that day comes,

I’ll be pretty in my soul.

“The Elephant” by Hilaire Billoc

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When people call this beast to mind,

They marvel more and more

At such a little tail behind,

So large a trunk before.

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The world has held great Heroes,

As history-books have showed;

But never a name to go down to fame

Compared with that of Toad

The clever men at Oxford

Know all that there is to be knowed.

But they none of them knew one half as much

As intelligent Mr Toad!

The animals sat in the Ark and cried,

Their tears in torrents flowed.

Who was it said, “There’s land ahead?”

Encouraging Mr Toad!

The Army all saluted

As they marched along the road.

Was it the King? Or Kitchener?

No. It was Mr Toad!

The Queen and her Ladies-in-waiting

Sat at the window and sewed.

She cried, “Look! who’s that handsome man?”

They answered, “Mr Toad.”

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"The Harlem Dancer:

by Claude McKay

Applauding youths laughed with young prostitutes

And watched her perfect, half-clothed body sway;

Her voice was like the sound of blended flutes

Blown by black players upon a picnic day.

She sang and danced on gracefully and calm,

The light gauze hanging loose about her form;

To me she seemed a proudly-swaying palm

Grown lovelier for passing through a storm.

Upon her swarthy neck black shiny curls

Luxuriant fell; and tossing coins in praise,

The wine-flushed, bold-eyed boys, and even the girls,

Devoured her shape with eager, passionate gaze;

But looking at her falsely-smiling face,

I knew her self was not in that strange place.

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"I was born upon thy bank, river"

by Henry David Thoreau

I was born upon thy bank, river,

My blood flows in thy stream,

And thou meanderest forever

At the bottom of my dream.

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"Do You Know What It's Like to Be Free?"

by Teyuna T. Darris

Do you know what it’s like

To be free?

Like when you whirl your arms around In the gold-yellow sun And fling your legs in the air?

Not caring what anyone say Just a smile in your heart And on your chin.

I know what it’s like

See, I whirl my heart

On a golden string:

Three-chorded and whirlin’ to the sun. Three-quarters turning.

I rode away in my heart.

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"Answer to a Child's Question" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Do you ask what the birds say? The Sparrow, the Dove,

The Linnet and Thrush say, “I love and I love!”

In the winter they’re silent—the wind is so strong;

What it says, I don’t know, but it sings a loud song.

But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather,

And singing, and loving—all come back together.

But the Lark is so brimful of gladness and love,

The green fields below him, the blue sky above,

That he sings, and he sings; and for ever sings he—

“I love my Love, and my Love loves me!”