Heart Poems

Popular Heart Poems

1914 V: The Soldier

by Rupert Brooke

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,

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My Guest In Thought

by T. P. Martin

Sometimes I get so busy, a doing this and that,
But then in thought you'll come to me, I always stop and chat.
Your presence is warmly welcomed, as it carries me away,
My heart will feel much lighter, as we recall the happy days.
These feelings are priceless, so with money they can't be bought,
Because, My Dear, you come to me, a welcomed guest in thought.

Bells For John Whiteside's Daughter

by John Crowe Ransom

There was such speed in her little body,
And such lightness in her footfall,
It is no wonder her brown study Astonishes us all

Her wars were bruited in our high window.
We looked among orchard trees and beyond
Where she took arms against her shadow,
Or harried unto the pond

The lazy geese, like a snow cloud

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My Native Land

by Sir Walter Scott

Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd
From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;

......

My Wish For You

by Louise Hinkley Devendorf

I wish you diamonds and pearls
And pretty curls
Love in your home
Lots of room to roam
Many friends who hold you very dear
And every day a lot of cheer
A good job with a lot of pay
Prayer in your life every day
A big shiny car with gas in the tank
No debts and lots of money in the bank

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Recent Heart Poems

'Tis Night Again

by Amir Farshad Shirzaei

I bleed words out of my heart again,
a slow, rhythmic pulse of syllables,
spilling onto the pristine canvas of paper.
Each drop, a testament to the ache within,
as hope pushes the edge of my chest again.

I write in the language of longing,
a tender melody of ink and pain,
weaving verses like delicate tapestries
that whisper of love's transient touch.

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A Sinner's Heart

by Bhaskaranand Jha Bhaskar

My soul badly suffers intense pain
Heavy with fleshy chains
Burning dead in the fires of hell
For the mortal sin
Committed once in the Garden
Of joy in the twilight of life,
Under the bower of intimacy
Fostered for no reason
Between love and sympathy.
The soiled body fallen from grace

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