200 short and quick poems

Libro con corazones rojos
Undoubtedly one of the best ways to convey our feelings is through the use of poetry , the perspective and intention that each poet transmits reflects the passion and the interior of the emotions from him. There are different types of poems, both very long and short but concise, but they manage to convey in very little text.
Poetry helps us to convey with more precise words our way of feeling . It is a reflection of the words that are born within our heart . There is always a person or a situation that awakens inspiration within us.
At Verbena we set out to find 200 Poems short and fast so that you can show all your affection and love to your loved one.
“Here” Octavio Paz
My steps on this street
They resonate
In another street
Where
I hear my steps
Pass on this street
Where
Only the fog is real.
“To a general” Julio Cortázar
Hairless Brush Dirty Hands Region
of children upside down from toothbrushes
Area where the rat ennobles itself
and there are countless flags and they sing hymns
and someone turns you on, you son of a bitch,
a medal on the chest
And you rot the same.
"Every time I think of you" Anonymous
Every time I think of you,
my eyes burst into tears;
and very sad I wonder,
why do I love you so much?
Syndrome (Mario Benedetti)
I still have almost all my teeth
almost all my hair and very little gray
I can make and unmake love
climb a ladder two at a time
and run forty meters behind the bus
so I shouldn't feel old
but the serious problem is that before
I didn't notice these details.
On clear nights (Gloria Fuentes)
On clear nights,
I solve the problem of the loneliness of being.
I invite the moon and with my shadow there are three of us.
Harmony spellings (Antonio Machado)
Harmony spellings
rehearsing inexperienced hand.
Boredom. Cacophony
of the everlasting piano
that I used to listen to as a child
dreaming ... I don't know what,
with something that did not arrive,
everything is gone.
Farewell (Alejandra Pizarnik)
An abandoned fire kills its light.
A bird in love raises its song.
So many hungry creatures in my silence
and this little rain that accompanies me.
Unveiled (Gabriela Mistral)
As I am a queen and I was a beggar, now
I live in pure trembling that you leave me,
and I ask you, pale, every hour:
«Are you with me yet? Oh, don't walk away! »
I would like to do the marches smiling
and trusting now that you have come;
but even in sleep I'm afraid
and I ask between dreams: "Haven't you gone?"
Rima LX (Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer)
My life is a wasteland,
flower I touch is shedding;
that on my fatal path
someone is sowing evil
for me to pick it up.
I remember leaving (Nezahualcoyotl)
What should I go with?
Will I leave nothing behind on earth?
How should my heart act?
Have we come to live in vain,
to sprout on the earth?
Let's leave at least flowers
Let's leave at least edges
Your eyes are bright (Anonymous)
Your eyes are stars,
your lips, velvet,
and a love like the one I feel,
it is impossible to hide it
The roller coaster (Nicanor Parra)
For half a century
Poetry was
The solemn fool's paradise.
Until I came
And I settled in with my roller coaster.
Come up, if you like.
Of course I don't respond if they go down
Draining blood from mouth and nostrils.
When the sea is round (Anonymous)
When the sea is round
and the sun stops shining,
that will be the day
where I can forget you.
“So Tired Blues” by Langston Hughes
With the sun in my hand
Gonna throw the sun
Way across the land-
Cause I'm tired,
Tired as I can be
America, I do not invoke your name in vain (Pablo Neruda)
AMERICA,
I do not invoke your name in vain.
When I hold the sword to my heart,
when I hold the leak in my soul,
when through windows
a new day of yours penetrates me,
I am and am in the light that it produces,
I live in the shadow that determines me,
I sleep and awake in your essential aurora:
sweet as grapes, and terrible,
driver of sugar and punishment,
soaked in sperm of your kind,
suckled in the blood of your inheritance.
The six strings (Federico García Lorca)
The guitar
makes dreams cry.
The sob of souls
lost
escapes through his mouth
round.
And like the tarantula,
weaves a great star
to hunt sighs,
floating in your black
wooden cistern.
“Trees” by Joyce Kilmer
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And she lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair de ella;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
My little tree (Antonio García Teijeiro)
My tree had
its golden branches.
An envious wind
stole my treasure.
Today has no branches
He has no dreams today
my silent tree
my little tree.
Crisis (Francisco Gálvez)
Your voice seems from another time,
no longer has that warm tone
from before, nor the complicity
as usual, they are just words
and his affection is now discreet:
there is no message in your messages.
I'm not me (Juan Ramón Jiménez)
I'm not me.
I am this
who goes by my side without me seeing him,
which, sometimes, I will see,
and that sometimes I forget.
The one who is silent, serene, when I speak,
the one who forgives, sweetie, when I hate,
the one who walks where I am not,
the one that will remain standing when I die ...
Minus your belly (Miguel Hernández)
Minus your belly,
everything is confusing
Minus your belly,
everything is future
fleeting, past
empty, cloudy.
Minus your belly,
everything is hidden.
Minus your belly,
all insecure,
all last,
dust without a world.
Minus your belly,
everything is dark.
Minus your belly
clear and deep.
My faith (Pedro Salinas)
I don't trust the rose
of paper,
so many times I did it
I with my hands.
I don't trust the other one
true pink,
daughter of the sun and seasoning,
the bride of the wind.
Of you that I never made you,
of you who never made you,
I trust you, round
sure random.
“Dreams” by Langston Hughes
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
The poet is a pretense (Fernando Pessoa)
The poet is a fake.
Pretend so completely
that even pretends it's pain
the pain you really feel,
And, in the pain you have read,
to read your readers come,
not the two he's had,
but only the one they don't have.
And that's how he gets into life,
distracting reason,
and turn, the toy train
which is called heart.
In the ear of a girl (Federico García Lorca)
I didn't want to.
I didn't want to tell you anything.
I saw in your eyes
two crazy trees.
Of breeze, of laughter and of gold.
They wiggled.
I didn't want to.
I didn't want to tell you anything.
Master, you love… (Rubén Darío)
Love, love, love, love always, with everything
being and with the earth and with the sky,
with the light of the sun and the dark of the mud:
love for all science and love for all desire.
And when the mountain of life
may it be hard and long and high and full of abysses,
love the immensity that is of love on
and burn in the fusion of our own breasts!
"I Choose The Mountain" by Howard Simon
The low lands call
I am tempted to answer
They are offering me a free dwelling
Without having to conquer
The massive mountain makes its move
Beckoning me to ascend
A much more difficult path
To get up the slippery bend
I cannot choose both
I have a choice to make
I must be wise
This will determine my fate
I choose, I choose the mountain
With all its stress and strain
Because only by climbing
Can I rise above the plain
I choose the mountain
And I will never stop climbing
I choose the mountain
And I shall forever be ascending
I choose the mountain
Mademoiselle Isabel (Blas de Otero)
Mademoiselle Isabel, blonde and French,
with a blackbird under the skin,
I don't know if that one or this one, oh mademoiselle
Isabel, sing in him or if he in that.
Princess of my childhood; you princess
promise, with two carnation breasts;
I, livre, crayon, le ... le ..., oh Isabel,
Isabel ..., your garden trembles on the table.
At night, you straightened your hair,
I fell asleep, meditating on them
and on your pink body: butterfly
pink and white, veiled with a veil
Blown away forever from my rose
-mademoiselle Isabel- and from my sky.
“Remember” by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann’d:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
Knives in April (Pere Gimferrer)
I hate teenagers.
It's easy to pity them.
There is a carnation that freezes in his teeth
and how they look at us when they cry.
But I'm going much further.
In his gaze I distinguish a garden.
The light spits on the tiles
the broken harp of instinct.
He violently corners me
this passion of loneliness
that young bodies cut down
and then burn in a single beam.
Am I then to be like these?
(Life stops here)
A willow tree flames in the silence.
It was worth being happy.
"Love" Salvador Novo
Loving is this shy silence
near you, without your knowing it,
and remember your voice when you leave
and feel the warmth of your greeting.
To love is to wait for you
as if you were part of the sunset,
neither before nor after, so that we are alone
between games and stories
on dry land.
To love is to perceive, when you are absent,
your perfume in the air I breathe,
and contemplate the star in which you go away
when I close the door at night.
"Mother To Son" by Langston Hughes
Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me hasn't been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor -
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin ’on,
And reachin 'landin's,
And turnin 'corners,
And sometimes goin 'in the dark
Where there hasn't been no light.
So, boy, don't you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps.
’Cause you find it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now -
For I’se still goin ’, honey,
I’se still climbin ’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
“Pass and forget” Rubén Darío
Pilgrim that you are searching in vain
a better way than your way,
how do you want me to shake your hand,
if my sign is your sign, Pilgrim?
You will never reach your destination;
you carry death in you like the worm
that gnaws at what you have as a human ...
what is human and divine about you!
Go on calmly, oh walker!
You are still very distant
that incognito country you dream of ...
And dreaming is evil. Pass and forget,
Well, if you insist on dreaming, you will
in fanning the flame of your life.
“With you” Luis Cernuda
My land?
You are my land.
My people?
My people are you
Exile and death
for me they are where
don't be there.
And my life?
Tell me, my love,
what is it, if not you?
"A Poison Tree" by William Blake
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was mine,
And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
"In the tree of my chest" Gloria Fuertes
In the tree of my chest
there is an incarnate bird.
When I see you he gets scared,
flaps, jumps.
In the tree of my chest
there is an incarnate bird.
When I see you he gets scared,
you're a scarecrow!
Wish (Luis Cernuda)
Through the quiet countryside of September,
of the yellow poplar some leaf,
like a broken star,
turning to the ground comes.
If so, the unconscious soul,
Lord of the stars and leaves,
out, shadow lit,
from life to death.
A Smile To Remember ”by Charles Bukowski
we had goldfish and they circled around and around
in the bowl on the table near the heavy drapes
covering the picture window and
my mother, always smiling, wanting us all
to be happy, told me, ‘be happy Henry!’
and she was right: it's better to be happy if you
can
but my father continued to beat her and me several times a week while
raging inside his 6-foot-two frame because he couldn't
understand what was attacking him from within.
my mother, poor fish,
wanting to be happy, beaten two or three times a
week, telling me to be happy: ‘Henry, smile!
why don’t you ever smile? ’
and then she would smile, to show me how, and it was the
saddest smile I ever saw
one day the goldfish died, all five of them,
they floated on the water, on their sides, their
eyes still open,
and when my father got home he threw them to the cat
there on the kitchen floor and we watched as my mother
she smiled.
Without a doubt, love is visualized from different sides of the prism and each author has their own way of relating and understanding it. Dedicate a short, quick poem to that special someone. There are also other ways to show affection and our feelings, such as through a song or some gift such as Flowers .
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1 comment


  • Ashley

    Por qué no salen los títulos de los poemas mmm ,🔥😡😠😤🤬


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