Top 30 Short Poems (by Famous and Anonymous Authors)

The word "poetry" comes from the Latin poiesis, which means "quality of creating, doing or producing." It is a creative act where aesthetics and beauty are manifested through the word. Poetry is a literary genre associated with expressive capacity and artistic sensitivity that takes the form of a verse, or sometimes prose.

In this article you will find a selection of short poems of famous and anonymous authors.

• You may be interested: "70 inspirational quotes from poets"

The best short poems

There are countless poets and poets who have given us part of their artistic sensitivity through wonderful texts.

In this article you will find short poems famous Latin American and Spanish authors, as well as some anonymous poets.

1. Here (Octavio Paz)

My steps on this street

Resonate

In another street

Where

I hear my steps

Pass on this street

Where

Only the fog is real.

2. To a general (Julio Cortázar)

Dirty hands region of hairless brushes

kids upside down from toothbrushes

Zone where the rat ennobles itself

and there are countless flags and they sing hymns

And someone turns you on, son of a bitch

a medal on the chest

And you rot the same.

3. Every time I think of you (Anonymous)

Every time I think of you

my eyes burst into tears;

and very sad I wonder,

because I love you so much?

4. Syndrome (Mario Benedetti)

I still have almost all my teeth

almost all my hair and very little gray

I can make and undo 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 did not notice these details.

5. 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 we are three.

6. Harmony spellings (Antonio Machado)

Harmony spellings

who rehearses inexperienced hand.

Weariness. Cacophony

of the everlasting piano

that I used to listen to as a child

dreaming... I don't know with what

with something that did not arrive,

all that is already gone.

7. Farewell (Alejandra Pizarnik)

An abandoned fire kills its light.

A bird in love rises its song.

So many hungry creatures in my silence

and this little rain that accompanies me.

8. Sleepless (Gabriela Mistral)

As I am a queen and I was a beggar, now

I live in pure tremor that you leave me,

and I ask you, pale, every hour:

Are you still with me? Oh, don't go 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: "Have you not gone?"

9. Rima LX (Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer)

My life is a wasteland

flower that I touch is shedding;

that in my fatal way

someone is sowing evil

for me to pick it up.

10. I remember that I left (Nezahualcoyotl)

How should I go?

Will I leave nothing behind me on earth?

How should my heart act?

Do we come to live in vain,

to sprout on the earth?

Let's leave at least flowers

Let's at least leave songs

11. Your eyes are bright stars (Anonymous)

Your eyes are stars

your lips, velvet,

and a love like the one I feel,

it is impossible to hide it.

12. 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 do not answer if they go down

Dropping blood from the mouth and nostrils.

13. When the sea is round (Anonymous)

When the sea is round

and the sun stops shining,

that will be the day

that she can forget you.

14. 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 by the windows

a new day of yours penetrates me,

I am and am in the light that produces me,

I live in the shadow that determines me,

I sleep and awake in your essential dawn:

sweet as grapes, and terrible,

conductor of sugar and punishment,

soaked in sperm of your kind,

suckled in the blood of your inheritance.

• You may be interested: "23 poems by Pablo Neruda that will fascinate you"

15. The six strings (Federico García Lorca)

Guitar

makes dreams cry.

The sob of souls

losses

escapes through his mouth

round.

And like the tarantula,

weaves a big star

to hunt sighs,

that float in your black

wooden cistern.

16. My little tree (Antonio García Teijeiro)

My tree had

its golden branches.

An envious wind

stole my treasure.

Today it has no branches

Today he has no dreams

my quiet tree

my little tree.

17. Crisis (Francisco Gálvez)

Your voice seems from another time

no longer has that warm tone

from before, nor complicity

as always, they are only words

and his affection is now discreet:

there is no message in your messages.

18. I am not me (Juan Ramón Jiménez)

I'm not me.

I am this

that goes by my side without me seeing it,

that, sometimes, I will see,

and that sometimes I forget.

The one who is silent, serene, when I speak,

the one who forgives, sweet, when I hate,

the one who walks where I am not,

the one that will remain standing when I die ...

19. Less your belly (Miguel Hernández)

Less your belly,

everything is confusing.

Less your belly,

everything is future

fleeting, past

barren, cloudy.

Less your belly,

everything is hidden.

Less your belly,

all insecure,

all last,

dust without a world.

Less your belly,

everything is dark.

Less your belly

clear and deep.

20. My faith (Pedro Salinas)

I don't trust the rose

of paper,

so many times that I did it

me with my hands.

I don't trust the other

true rose,

daughter of the sun and seasoning,

the bride of the wind.

Of you that I never made you

of you that they never made you,

I trust you, round

random insurance.

21. The poet is a pretense (Fernando Pessoa)

The poet is a fake.

He pretends so completely

that even pretends that it is pain

the pain that you really feel,

And, in the pain they have read,

to read your readers come,

not the two that he has had,

but only the one they don't have.

And so he gets into life,

distracting reason

and turns, the toy train

which is called heart.

22. In the ear of a girl (Federico García Lorca)

I did not want.

I didn't want to tell you anything.

I saw in your eyes

two crazy little trees.

Of breeze, of laughter and of gold.

They wiggled.

I did not want.

I didn't want to tell you anything.

23. I love, you love... (Rubén Darío)

Loving, loving, loving, loving always, with everything

the 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

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!

24. 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; your princess

promise, with two carnation breasts;

I, I free you, you crayon, you... you..., 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.

Flown forever from my rose

-mademoiselle Isabel- and from my heaven.

25. 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 go much further.

In his gaze I distinguish a garden.

The light spits on the tiles

the broken harp of instinct.

Violently corners me

this passion of loneliness

that the young bodies fell

and then burn in a single bundle.

Am I then to be like these?

(Life stops here)

A willow tree is flaming in the silence.

It was worth being happy.

26. Love (Salvador Novo)

Loving is this shy silence

close to 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 the dry land.

To love is to perceive, when you are absent,

your perfume in the air that I breathe,

and contemplate the star in which you walk away

When I close the door at night

27. Pass and forget (Rubén Darío)

Pilgrim that you are searching in vain

a better way than your way,

How do you want me to hold 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 you what is human ...

What is human and divine about you!

Go on quietly, oh walker!

You are still very distant

that incognito country you dream of ...

And dreaming is wrong. Pass and forget,

Well, if you insist on dreaming, you insist

in fanning the flame of your life.

28. 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 you.

And my life?

Tell me "my life,

What is it, if it's not you?

29. In the tree of my chest (Gloria Fuertes)

In the tree of my chest

there is an incarnate bird.

When I see you, it scares

flaps, jumps.

In the tree of my chest

there is an incarnate bird.

When I see you, it scares

You are a scarecrow!

30. Desire (Luis Cernuda)

Through the quiet field of September,

from 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,

it was, fiery shadow,

from life to death.