What is the name of a poem beautiful

beautiful poems

Are you looking for beautiful poetry on the web? Then you could successfully complete your task at this point. But what are really nice poems? This question cannot be easily answered with yes or no. Because what is beautiful lies in the eye of the beholder - or in the case of a poem - in the ear of the reader or the reader and in the ear of the interpreter or the listener. Beautiful poems can be long or short. They don't have to rhyme if the content conveys a nice atmosphere. It also depends on the time at which you read or listen to a poem: If you are in a bad mood or could jump at anyone you meet, you will call other poems beautiful than when you are in a good mood or the whole Embracing the world, for example as someone who is on cloud nine with his treasure

There was a sheet
There was a leaf by the roadside
One of millions
slightly covered with sand
One of millions like you and me
A worm he came
but he did not take it
He chose another and picked it up

The paper was sad, although already dead
If it wanted to be chosen to be excrement
So that it may please its tree
Again as food
Faithful even in death
Where did this experience come from?

Author: Martin Otto

Evening tune
Now I want to rest full of joy
when the light of day escapes gently.
Wants to be burdened and troublesome after work
quietly listen to the evening song.

I want to listen to the melody of life
its delicate sound, I hardly hear it.
Want harmony in the moment
sink gently into time and dream.

Author: H.S.

The present beautiful
I should have ages
To refresh myself in everything that is beautiful.
What use was all the heart's desire
Also beautiful, which one perished?
For beautiful things that take away from me
Only happy distant spirits?
Why is it not enough for my mind
What is it that amuses me so much today and here?
It would be ingratitude to be hard to believe
To refrain from giving thanks for it.

Author: Karl Mayer

Life is
Life is
Even without problems
Can only be almost as beautiful
As with pain
Who sneaks in
Through love
In my cold heart

Author: Martin Otto

The beautiful
The body of the god of beauty is as if dismembered,
Scatter the flowers of her magic wreath,
Whom no mortal eye has seen as a whole,
Who fully adorns only the heads of the Charites!

Withered flutters tomorrow, what delights us today,
There in whirlwinds, fleeting dance;
Today something highest shines us full of light shine,
And tomorrow it was a glow that enchants us.

Fortunen's ball is the same, unrolled quickly
Before us the golden glow of the beautiful;
We follow him and we can't catch him.

And only the muse is enough for beloved sons,
Who wash their eyes in Castal's dew,
Holdsel'gen consolation in colors and tones!

Author: Robert Hamerling

The poet
In the magic of words forms into sentences
A sound of language of imagination lived
Only the poet can appreciate his art
Dressed in a taste of irony

He wrestles day and night
With unrestrained lust for passion
Word for word to his unconscious powers
Until there is a gash inside

Only those who have traveled into the depths of Hades
Knows unknown songs from distant worlds
The glow of his ancestors often appears in his mind
He does not accept praise for his wrestling

But there are the continents of sounds
That turn his words into melodies
He sings and sings his difficult chants
How could he ever act otherwise

So his imagination escapes the words
Into a world that isn't really any
His breaths know the places

There in a foreign place where nobody misses him
The poet lives alone on his island
There is no one to stir up the fire with him

The language of creation kindles its lights
He alone only knows where all this will lead him

Author: Rüdiger Heins www.ruedigerheins.de

The poet's art
The poet's work finely honed in the word,
will come to an unexpected end there,
where the rhyme in the text was badly weighted,
because the poet has simply condensed himself.

Here it is only advised to the spiritual creator,
to do what others did before him.
Do your work skilfully without prejudice,
to keep it in mind permanently.

The noble art of rhyming rhetorically correctly,
initially develops from tender germs,
whose offspring change in the course of a short time
unfold into buds of poetic sensuality.

Adjust the mind game imaginatively,
so in the end a result can be achieved,
by combining rhyming verses in a meaningful way
and finds his master in the writing.

Has he wisely got to the heart of the matter,
the poet may hope to be safe,
in a legitimized circle and always diligent
to know that you are recognized as such.

Author: Bernhard Efinger

The beauty
How lovely is the bliss of the clear sky,
The pure moon, the army of bright stars,
Auroren's light, the shine of the golden sun!
And yet a beautiful face is far more delightful.
The drop of strength that rejuvenates forest and field,
Hardly animates them like a good kiss to us,
And a bird can never sing sweeter
As a mouth to be worshiped.

Eleanor! on their tender cheeks
The bloom of youth laughs in fresh roses,
And tenderness, admiration and desire
To you, and only to you so early;
Whether psyche ruled love itself,
When she was rightly called the god's goddess;
So I believe that nothing more touched him
As nature showed in your education.

Your eye plays and your curls fly
Gentle as the air billows in the sun's rays;
Courtesy and grace and pleasure
Are not separated from your stay.
The hearts of cheerful youth pay homage to you,
Age itself envies your joke.
It becomes, in you, the most pleasant virtue,
And nowhere else the most comfortable seat.

I am flattered that, in happy hours,
Eleanor sings my songs too,
And many a word that many did not feel
Through your voice penetrates all hearts,
Grant me to make the poet happy,
Who found nothing more noble than your approval,
Just one glimpse of your beautiful looks
Just a kiss on your white hand.

Author: Friedrich von Hagedorn

He was very impressed
He was very impressed
But unfortunately could not show it
You could tell it from the fascination
Perhaps he suspected that he would then suffer
And feel its title
Could be complete mockery

Any education and everything learned
Any diligence would be just a joke
The soul of art would only lie in free choice
Not round, not supple
Not as sharp as an arrow

black or white
Simple or colorful
Better to be happy without money
Better real than healthy?

Giving everything for his tietel
Hats off, I don't have it
But unfortunately the crackpot reigns in art
That just breaks with demand.

Author: Martin Otto

Spring kiss
Aren't the roses red with lust for love?
And don't tremble in the bright moonlight
The tall reeds by the sea full of pain
When cool winds kiss it languidly there?
Ain't honey luck for the butterflies
In the flower that they must drink?
And does not glitter without indignation,
Drink in the sunlight, the heavenly sip?

Author: Elena

I walked in the forest
So for me there,
And nothing to look for
This was my intention.

I saw in the shadow
Stand a flower
Shining like the stars
As beautiful as eyes.

I wanted to break it,
It says fine:
Should I wither
To be broken?

I dug it with everyone
The spice out,
I carried it to the garden
At the pretty house.

And plant it again
In the quiet place
Now it always branches
And continues to bloom.

Author: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

I am building a room
I am building a room
A room like a dream
From pure thoughts
I hardly understand him
I invent this space
He wasn't there before
Not for me
And I realize
Everything outside
Maybe nice after all
Was ephemeral

Author: Martin Otto

I didn't get to the poem
I didn't get to the poem
The poem came to me
I did not want that
But it said stay here

I am so alone
You are a friend to me
I asked who are you
And it looked dreamy

It said you know that
That's why I stay with you

But I don't know anymore
That comes back to you
Please give me a guarantee

Author: Martin Otto

I was willing
I'm willing
To forget you
But I can do you
Don't see in a storm
Don't want to understand
Your right to pain
And your right to it
To turn in circles

Author: Martin Otto

In strength and beauty
I want to sing in strength and beauty
my free song! not for truth
needs trembling to wrestle my embers:
I am true myself! - On Sturmessschwingen
I want to force a light tan
the flame that breaks out of the embers!

I want to love in strength and beauty
what embraces flesh and soul!
I am dedicated to the spirit of ardor:
the seed that drove the embers,
who remained fruitful up to me,
he longs for fresh blood and has pity!

In strength and beauty, I want to hate
the enemy of strength, of beautiful lust:
the ugly ones in the mud of the streets
squirt the pure seed to dung,
the dull ones that let them fade away
the sacred spark of her breast!

In strength and beauty all my life
my aspirations all: That be my word!
Then may rise up against me
the smoke of time: it becomes my striving
to float away from him in the light of fire
and flames testify on and on!

Author: Richard Dehmel

The spring of the heart is defined in it.
Her eyes, her lips, let it bloom in me.
The cold disappears and the warmth moves in,
Yes, God, only the love of spring can be like this.
What could be more beautiful in the world
to be loved as freshly blossoming?

No sooner does the green appear on this earth,
summer brings warming nearness.
It's hot like the flame of burning love
one should strive that it does not dry up.
You can see the sun wandering in the sky
well protected in the arms of the other.
So there couldn't be anything more beautiful
if it weren't for autumn.

One thinks the leaves fall out one by one,
before winter covered the house with snow.
They turn brown
and slide to the ground
the dream would be over
the love vanished.
But you watch the hustle and bustle
everything should come back and stay in love.
However, without warning, grace, consolation,
A grueling autumn storm breaks out!

What happened? Can you explain it?
The heart dries up, with innumerable tears.
Winter was there overnight.
The worries came shortly after the storm.
So believe me, it only took one day
until my little inner world found out
that the love that was once my four-leaf clover,
now covered, under a thick layer of snow.
Cold, ice and darkness are here now
where once my loving little heart was.
The bitter frost, it came so timelessly fast
love as long as you can, soon it may not be anymore.

Author: Paul Schmidt

To be human
You should understand the meaning of life
Consciously go your own way,
Recognize yourself as a person
And don't run from yourself.

You should dismantle the stencils,
You should look at the world clearly.
Your life is not easy and cheap
To see it, just be willing.

Your actions must be meaningful.
It is not easy to be human.
You should act with patience and calm,
Transform the evil in you into good.

With strength, beauty and eternal wisdom
Do you achieve your own freedom within yourself.
The will, what's in you anyway,
Is only woken up with the love of God.

Author: Önder Demir

Beautiful strangers
The tree tops rustle and shudder,
As if made at this hour
Around the half-sunken walls
The old gods the round.

Here behind the myrtle trees
In secret dawning splendor,
What do you say confusedly like in dreams
To go with, fantastic night?

All the stars twinkle on me
With glowing love eyes
The distance talks drunk
How of great future happiness!

Author: Joseph von Eichendorff

Nice days in June
Midnight the gardens are listening
Whisper and kiss of love,
Until the last sound faded away
Because now everything must sleep -
A nightingale is singing across the river.

Sun-green rose garden,
Sun-white flood of river,
Sun-silent morning peace,
That rests on trees and beds -
A nightingale is singing across the river.

Bustling streets, distant, confused,
Rich man and beggar child,
Myrtle wreaths, funeral procession,
A thousandfold life flows -
A nightingale is singing across the river.

The evening is slowly falling
The hard world becomes mild,
And the heart makes its peace
And the hero becomes a child -
A nightingale is singing across the river.

Author: Detlev von Liliencron

Beautiful night
Beautiful night, the stars walk
Holy over you,
And the day's moving action
Breastfeeding to the dream here.

What i long, what i feel
Is now doubly mine
Oh in your chaste coolness
It will be fine and pure!

And so you bring this earth
Bring my heart to rest
That it should be quiet and quieter
Have a nice night like you!

Author: Carl Hermann Busse

Nice picture
How beautiful you are, o rose,
And gracious in your splendor,
From the first rays of the sun
Kissed after a long night;
Shed with tears
Your shining face,
You stand smiling in the shimmer
Of the light that surrounds you.

O girl, you are lovely
You like the rose picture,
When your dark eye is
Fills with sweet drops,
The cheeks gently redden
In a quiet, holy glow
From the sunbeam of love
That rests shimmering on you!

Author: Luise Büchner

Silver moon
Evening wind settles in the valley
behind smoke screen
a gentle, first ray creeps
kind about hand

Light surrounded by black power
whispers Silberschein
never a word that sounds quieter
Moon, it must be you

© Marcel Strömer
(Magdeburg, May 11th, 2015)

Author: Marcel Strömer

Solar symphony
Tender as the fine sound of notes,
is the praise of the sun.
Hardly that it penetrates the night
the early bird starts its song.
It goes straight up to the sky
thereby reaches the Creator's ear.

The midday sun outshines the world,
it puts everything in a golden light.
She conjures up a radiance on your face,
that speaks of God's love.

The sun rests in the evening,
bright red rises in the sky.
It wraps you in the cloak of the night
an angel watches by your bed.

God created the sunlight for the day
that breaks early through the clouds.
It accompanies your daily routine
and rest with you in the evening.

Author: Christina Telker

Origin of the rose
A lamb gnaws the rose branch in the pasture,
It only pleases himself, it doesn't harm him.
To do this, Rosendorn gave the lamb a squeeze
Just a flake of wool; it was not naked from it.
The thorn held the flake in sharp fingers;
Then the nightingale came and wanted to build its nest.
She said: "Open your hand and give me the flake,
And when my nest is built, I sing to thank you.
He gave, she took and builds, and when she sang
The rose rose with pleasure from the rose thorn!

Author: Friedrich Rückert

If the little man could do something
If the little man could
What the big man can't
Still nobody would clap
Because it doesn't say valuable on it

No colorful labels
No glimmer, shine and light
The little man always stays short
Because it is much too simple

Only great people can do something great
Yes then I call myself big now
Pretend everyone loves me
Everything falls into my lap

But the moral could be
I am tall now
And no longer small

Author: Martin Otto

when you laugh
when you laugh,
I see a flower bloom
when you laugh,
I see the sun rise
when you laugh,
warmth envelops me.
when you laugh,
the world laughs with you.

Author: KASy

When it's dark and raining
When it's dark and raining
And the cold wind is still blowing
You then meet yourself
In a forest
Maybe late
It will show
Whether the sun
That laughs in summer
Remembers you
Or whether she's kidding

Author: Martin Otto


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