By Joshua Seigal
I don’t like similes.Every time I try to think of onemy brain feels like a vast, empty desert;my eyes...
Explore Poems: Alliteration
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- By UnknownLēodum is mīnum swylce him mon lāc gife; willað hȳ hine āþecgan gif hē on þrēat cymeð. Ungelīc is ū...
- By John TickhillIn a sesone of somere þat souerayne ys of alle, Þat was þe myry monþ of May May May is a “somere” month...
- By UnknownMoððe word fræt. Me þæt þuhte wrætlicu wyrd, þa ic þæt wundor gefrægn, þæt se wyrm forswealg wera gied...
- By UnknownIc on wincle gefrægn weaxan nathwæt, þindan ond þunian, þecene hebban; on þæt banlease bryd grapode,...
- By UnknownWrætlic hongað bi weres þeo, frean under sceate. Foran is þyrel. Bið stiþ ond heard, stede hafað godne...
- By UnknownIc wat indryhtne æþelum deorne giest in geardum, þam se grimma ne mæg hungor sceððan ne se hata þurst...
- By UnknownMec feonda sum feore besnyþede, woruldstrenga binom, wætte siþþan, dyfde on wætre, dyde eft þonan, sette...
- By William LanglandIn a somer seson, whan softe was þe sonne, I shoop me into [a] shrou[d] as I a sheep weere, In habite...
- By William LanglandWolleward and weetshoed wente I forþ after As a recchelees renk þat [reccheþ of no wo], And yede for...
- By UnknownSome strong enemy snatched my life, deprived me of strength and soaked me, drenched me in water, dragged...
- By UnknownHwæt! Ic swefna cyst secgan wylle, hwæt me gemætte to midre nihte, syðþan reordberend reste wunedon!...
- By UnknownListen! I will speak of the sweetest dream, what came to me in the middle of the night, when speech-...
- By UnknownSwarte smekyd smepes smateryd wyth smoke. dryue me to deth wyth den of here dyntes. Swech noys on nyghtes...
- By Richard Rolle[Alle perisches and passes pat we with eghe see] It wanes into wrechednes, þe welth of þis worlde. Robes...
- By UnknownI know a noble guest within the gates, whom great men love. Grim hunger cannot harm him, nor hot thirst...
- By UnknownA marvelous thing hangs by a man’s thigh, under his tunic. There’s a hole at the tip; it’s stiff and...
- By UnknownSomething’s swelling over in the corner, rising and standing, raising its cover. A haughty bride grabbed...
- By UnknownA moth ate words. A marvelous fate it seemed to me, when I heard of that wonder, that a worm could swallow...
- By UnknownWenne, wenne, wenchichenne, her ne scealt þu timbrien, ne nenne tun habben, ac þu scealt north eonene...