Poetry Catalog

When here with Carthage Rome to conflict came,An earthquake, mingling with the battle's shock,Checked not its rage; unfelt the ground did rock,Sword dropped not, javelin kept its deadly aim.Now all is sun-bright peace. Of that day's shame,Or glory, not a vestige seems to endure,Save in this Rill that took from blood the nameWhich yet it bears, sweet Stream! as crystal pure.So … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 – XII. – Near The Lake Of Thrasymene, By: William Wordsworth

Forgive, illustrious Country! these deep sighs,Heaved less for thy bright plains and hills bestrownWith monuments decayed or overthrown,For all that tottering stands or prostrate lies,Than for like scenes in moral vision shown,Ruin perceived for keener sympathies;Faith crushed, yet proud of weeds, her gaudy crown;Virtues laid low, and mouldering energies.Yet why prolong this … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 – XI. – From The Alban Hills, Looking Towards Rome, By: William Wordsworth

Shouting, screamingFavourite teaming,Blokes and kids, faces beamingThe team kick off, in too tight kit‘He fouled him ref!, blind old git’The enemy scores, crowd roarsbreak the laws!They’re mental!Invading grassy shoresBut.It’s only a tame, meaningless gameBut not for, fans of our club, whoThinkThen drinkThen fartAnd drinkClubhouse barNo place aroundCan match the unbearable … [Read more...] about Football Fans, By: Chris Maples

Near Anio's stream, I spied a gentle DovePerched on an olive branch, and heard her cooing'Mid new-born blossoms that soft airs were wooing,While all things present told of joy and love.But restless Fancy left that olive groveTo hail the exploratory Bird renewingHope for the few, who, at the world's undoing,On the great flood were spared to live and move.O bounteous Heaven! … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 – X. – Near Anio’s Stream, I Spied A Gentle Dove, By: William Wordsworth

A crisp in leavesAir full of griefIts hard to breatheRope ted to treeThe view hard to seeThe skull, the bonesIs the soul present or gone?Is it the one with white wings or red horns“I think its quite obvious”,The devil whispersThe cleared rumoursAbout the forrestIts her last augustLast seasonGod’s favourite angel, this cruel oneSound of bloodOn the crisps on floor"What did she … [Read more...] about Human Mind, By: Jasleen Kaur