1. Mine Enemy is growing old -- - written by Emily Dickinson
From Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson. Published in 1955. Read 4227 times on American Poems.

Mine Enemy is growing old --
I have at last Revenge --
The Palate of the Hate departs --
If any would avenge

Let him be quick -- the Viand flits --
It is a faded Meat --
Anger as soon as fed is dead --
'Tis starving makes it fat --(Read full poem)

There are some nights when
sleep plays coy,
aloof and disdainful.
And all the wiles
that I employ to win
its service to my side
are useless as wounded pride,
and much more painful. (Read full poem)

3. My Nose Is Growing Old - written by Richard Brautigan
Read 2470 times on American Poems.

Yup.
A long lazy September look
in the mirror
say it's true.

I'm 31
and my nose is growing
old.

It starts about 1/2
an inch
below the bridge
and strolls geriatrically
down
for another inch or so:
stopping.

Fortunately, the rest
of the nose is... (Read full poem)

An endless line of splendor, 
These troops with heaven for home, 
With creeds they go from Scotland, 
With incense go from Rome. 
These, in the name of Jesus, 
Against the dark gods stand, 
They gird the earth with valor, 
They heed their... (Read full poem)

5. I saw in Louisiana a Live Oak Growing. - written by Walt Whitman
From Leaves of Grass. Published in 1900. Read 4917 times on American Poems.

I SAW in Louisiana a live-oak growing, 
All alone stood it, and the moss hung down from the branches; 
Without any companion it grew there, uttering joyous leaves of dark green, 
And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made me think of myself; 
But I... (Read full poem)

If you are still alive when you read this,
close your eyes. I am
under their lids, growing black.(Read full poem)

7. What's the Railroad to Me - written by Henry David Thoreau
Read 4102 times on American Poems.

What's the railroad to me?
I never go to see
Where it ends.
It fills a few hollows,
And makes banks for the swallows,
It sets the sand a-blowing,
And the blackberries a-growing.(Read full poem)

Fully occupied with growing--that's
the amaryllis. Growing especially
at night: it would take
only a bit more patience than I've got
to sit keeping watch with it till daylight;
the naked eye could register every hour's
increase in height.... (Read full poem)

9. Ah Poverties, Wincings and Sulky Retreats. - written by Walt Whitman
From Leaves of Grass. Published in 1900. Read 1664 times on American Poems.

AH poverties, wincings, and sulky retreats! 
Ah you foes that in conflict have overcome me! 
(For what is my life, or any man’s life, but a conflict with foes—the old, the
	incessant
	war?) 
You degradations—you tussle with passions... (Read full poem)

Beneath this sod lie the remains
Of one who died of growing pains.(Read full poem)

11. The Visitation - written by Joyce Kilmer
From Main Street and Other Poems. Published in 1917. Read 1395 times on American Poems.

(For Louise Imogen Guiney)

There is a wall of flesh before the eyes
Of John, who yet perceives and hails his King.
It is Our Lady's painful bliss to bring
Before mankind the Glory of the skies.
Her cousin feels her womb's sweet burden... (Read full poem)

I was in love with anatomy
the symmetry of my body
poised for flight,
the heights it would take
over parents, lovers, a keen
riding over truth and detail.
I thought growing up would be
this rising from everything
old and earthly,
not these... (Read full poem)

13. The mob within the heart - written by Emily Dickinson
From Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson. Published in 1955. Read 3155 times on American Poems.

The mob within the heart
Police cannot suppress
The riot given at the first
Is authorized as peace

Uncertified of scene
Or signified of sound
But growing like a hurricane
In a congenial ground.(Read full poem)

This morning Hitler spoke in Danzig, we hear his voice.
A man of genius: that is, of amazing
Ability, courage, devotion, cored on a sick child's soul,
Heard clearly through the dog wrath, a sick child
Wailing in Danzig; invoking destruction and... (Read full poem)

15. The List of Famous Hats - written by James Tate
From Reckoner. Published in 1986. Read 7635 times on American Poems.

Napoleon's hat is an obvious choice I guess to list as a famous
hat, but that's not the hat I have in mind. That was his hat for
show. I am thinking of his private bathing cap, which in all hon-
esty wasn't much different than the one any jerk... (Read full poem)

This is the year the old ones,
the old great ones
leave us alone on the road.

The road leads to the sea.
We have the words in our pockets,
obscure directions. The old ones

have taken away the light of their presence,
we see it moving away... (Read full poem)

17. The Thrill came slowly like a Boom for - written by Emily Dickinson
From Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson. Published in 1955. Read 2742 times on American Poems.

The Thrill came slowly like a Boom for
Centuries delayed
Its fitness growing like the Flood
In sumptuous solitude --
The desolations only missed
While Rapture changed its Dress
And stood amazed before the Change
In ravished Holiness --(Read full poem)

I made slow Riches but my Gain
Was steady as the Sun
And every Night, it numbered more
Than the preceding One

All Days, I did not earn the same
But my perceiveless Gain
Inferred the less by Growing than
The Sum that it had grown.(Read full poem)

19. She Didn't Mean To Do It - written by Daisy Fried
From She Didn't Mean to Do It. Published in 2000. Read 2360 times on American Poems.

Oh, she was sad, oh, she was sad.
She didn't mean to do it.

Certain thrills stay tucked in your limbs,
go no further than your fingers, move your legs through their paces,
but no more. Certain thrills knock you flat
on your sheets on your bed in... (Read full poem)

The black unicorn is greedy. 
The black unicorn is impatient. 
'The black unicorn was mistaken 
for a shadow or symbol
and taken
through a cold country 
where mist painted mockeries 
of my fury.
It is not on her lap where the horn rests 
but deep in... (Read full poem)

21. Fist - written by Philip Levine
Read 534 times on American Poems.

Iron growing in the dark, 
it dreams all night long 
and will not work. A flower 
that hates God, a child 
tearing at itself, this one 
closes on nothing. 

Friday, late, 
Detroit Transmission. If I live 
forever, the first clouded light 
of dawn... (Read full poem)

I am Minerva, the village poetess,
Hooted at, jeered at by the Yahoos of the street
For my heavy body, cock-eye, and rolling walk,
And all the more when "Butch" Weldy
Captured me after a brutal hunt.
He left me to my fate with Doctor... (Read full poem)

23. Portrait Of The Artist As A Prematurely Old Man - written by Ogden Nash
Read 2302 times on American Poems.

It is common knowledge to every schoolboy and even every Bachelor of Arts,
That all sin is divided into two parts.
One kind of sin is called a sin of commission, and that is very important,
And it is what you are doing when you are doing something... (Read full poem)

At his incipient sun 
The ice of twenty winters broke, 
Crackling, in her eyes. 

Her mirroring, still mind, 
That held the world (made double) calm, 
Went fluid, and it ran. 

There was a stir of music, 
Mixed with flowers, in her blood;... (Read full poem)

25. Winter Trees - written by Sylvia Plath
From The Collected Poems. Published in 1962. Read 6387 times on American Poems.

The wet dawn inks are doing their blue dissolve.
On their blotter of fog the trees
Seem a botanical drawing --
Memories growing, ring on ring,
A series of weddings.

Knowing neither abortions nor bitchery,
Truer than women,
They seed so... (Read full poem)