Please use a laptop or desktop.

Kindling is a writing warm-up — it needs a keyboard.

The Collection
Public-domain poems to warm up on
A Psalm of LifeHenry Wadsworth Longfellow Tell me not, in mournful numbers, A Red, Red RoseRobert Burns O my Luve is like a red, red rose Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe It was many and many a year ago, Anthem for Doomed YouthWilfred Owen What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? Auguries of InnocenceWilliam Blake To see a World in a Grain of Sand, Because I Could Not Stop for DeathEmily Dickinson Because I could not stop for Death, Bright StarJohn Keats Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art— Crossing the BarAlfred, Lord Tennyson Sunset and evening star, Death, Be Not ProudJohn Donne Death, be not proud, though some have called thee DreamsLangston Hughes Hold fast to dreams First FigEdna St. Vincent Millay My candle burns at both ends; FogCarl Sandburg The fog comes Hope is the Thing with FeathersEmily Dickinson Hope is the thing with feathers How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)Elizabeth Barrett Browning How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I Wandered Lonely as a CloudWilliam Wordsworth I wandered lonely as a cloud If We Must DieClaude McKay If we must die, let it not be like hogs In the Bleak MidwinterChristina Rossetti In the bleak midwinter, InvictusWilliam Ernest Henley Out of the night that covers me, JabberwockyLewis Carroll 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Kubla KhanSamuel Taylor Coleridge In Xanadu did Kubla Khan Loveliest of Trees, the Cherry NowA. E. Housman Loveliest of trees, the cherry now No Coward Soul Is MineEmily Brontë No coward soul is mine, O Captain! My Captain!Walt Whitman O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, On Being Brought from Africa to AmericaPhillis Wheatley 'Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land, OzymandiasPercy Bysshe Shelley I met a traveller from an antique land RememberChristina Rossetti Remember me when I am gone away, RequiemRobert Louis Stevenson Under the wide and starry sky, Sea FeverJohn Masefield I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, She Walks in BeautyLord Byron She walks in beauty, like the night Sonnet 18: Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day?William Shakespeare Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Stopping by Woods on a Snowy EveningRobert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know. Success Is Counted SweetestEmily Dickinson Success is counted sweetest SympathyPaul Laurence Dunbar I know what the caged bird feels, alas! The Darkling ThrushThomas Hardy I leant upon a coppice gate The EagleAlfred, Lord Tennyson He clasps the crag with crooked hands; The Lake Isle of InnisfreeWilliam Butler Yeats I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, The LambWilliam Blake Little Lamb, who made thee? The ListenersWalter de la Mare 'Is there anybody there?' said the Traveller, The Negro Speaks of RiversLangston Hughes I've known rivers: The New ColossusEmma Lazarus Give me your tired, your poor, The RavenEdgar Allan Poe Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, The Road Not TakenRobert Frost Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, The SoldierRupert Brooke If I should die, think only this of me: The TygerWilliam Blake Tyger Tyger, burning bright, The World Is Too Much with UsWilliam Wordsworth The world is too much with us; late and soon, There Will Come Soft RainsSara Teasdale There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, To AutumnJohn Keats Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, TreesJoyce Kilmer I think that I shall never see We Wear the MaskPaul Laurence Dunbar We wear the mask that grins and lies, When You Are OldWilliam Butler Yeats When you are old and grey and full of sleep,