Poems In English

You may find this strange but true… An Odd of English Plurals We’ll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes, But the plural of ox becomes oxen, not oxes. One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese, Yet the plural of moose should never be meese. You may find a lone mouse or a nest full …

  ∼ ‘Shailender Singh’

Have you watched the birds all follow That speedy little swallow? Who has flown here as before, Because it’s spring once more. All winter long, he’s been away, Where it was warm for all the day, But back he comes when it is spring, When all the birds begin to sing. ∼ Porter G., Hilda Offen, Pradera, Esme Eve, Alan Jesset, …

Sometimes Mom Says (Sung to: “Twinkle, Twinkle”) Sometimes Mom says “don’t do this” Sometimes Mom says “don’t do that” Still she loves me that I know. Why? Because she tells me so. Sometimes Mom says let’s do this. Sometimes Mom says “kiss, kiss, kiss!”

Someone Asked Me What Is Love is it good, is it bad is it awesome, is it terrible I honestly didn’t know how to answer them. I finally decided love is the most complicated of all emotions Love is kind Love is harsh Love is wonderful Love is terrible Love is a cure Love is a sickness Love is LOVE …

Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound. No Nightingale did ever chaunt More welcome notes to weary bands Of travelers in some shady haunt, …

Jimmy the snail was a very slow walker, A very slow eater, a very slow talker. It took him ten minutes to climb up a flower, And eating a leaf, that took him an hour! It really was lucky his house was his shell Or going to bed would take hours as well. When others said: “Jimmy, why are you …

I’m Slither the Snake, I might give you a fright! I can stretch out quite straight, Or curl up quite tight. Although I’iv no legs, I can move very fast, And I swim across water If I want to get past.

Without you This night is utterly long Nothing but deep silence That speaks your name And repeats it softly Again and again Yet a burning candle in the corner Burns me within as well Without you tonight Eyes weeps calmly And heart mourns quietly yet this night Speaks nothing but silence. ∼ Hina Patel

She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment’s ornament: Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight’s, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and way-lay. …