20 THREE-STANZA POEMS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE - LITERATURE - 2025

I leave you a list of poems of three stanzas on various topics such as pollution, study, animals, among others.. The stanzas are usually separated by a full stop. However, there are trends in poetry in which authors omit the use of punctuation marks, and separate stanzas simply with double spaces.

It is common for the stanzas of these poetic manifestations to contain from two verses to those that the author considers, and that these have determined, constant metrics that rhyme with each other. These qualities facilitate learning among the people who listen to the poems, which makes their dissemination and popularization easier.

A poem of three stanzas. The sailing ship (Juan Ortiz)

Now, these poems can also be composed of white or free verses. This means that their stanzas may lack rhyme and meter, so the message that the poet wants to convey becomes more important.

List of three-stanza poems

- The sailing ship (Juan Ortiz)

I

You go to the horizon of the seagulls, there where the mountain of water rests, you leave like someone who crosses foam roads

soul of cloth, eternal canoe.

II

You leave and the wind rocks your cradle

under the sun, on the mirror, you leave as a silent reflection of the moon

where enormous mysteries await.

III

The fisherman goes on your oak back, the captain and the sailor,

Who wants to be candid?

of the sky, the sun and a star.

- My dear people (Juan Ortiz)

I

Between blues and seagulls

your presence rises, and in the salt, your sweet essence, I can see marine drops.

You notice my absence

and I know, dear people, Well, you left me shelter and nest

in my childhood years, I carry your honey fragrance in me

in every step felt.

II

I did not leave, you know it well, it's just a until then, I will return to you in the bronzes

with the snow already on my temple.

I miss my people too

my blood, my great feeling, and I can't lie to you

I don't hide anything from you, my soul is crowned

wanting to go again.

III

When I return I will kiss the ground

I will swim all your sea, I will not hesitate to sing

as the bird does in its flight.

And it is that in me there is an ice

that kisses my soul daily, a gray that corrodes calm

since I left your port, it's like walking dead and alive

no shadow on any palm.

- The refrigerator (Juan Ortiz)

I

I must give you thanks, dear refrigerator, for taking care of my food

with such enormous love.

II

You cool the water well, you already freeze the meat, and the fruits remain

always smooth and very good.

III

If I want a delicious ice cream, I go then to your door, where is there such variety

that the smile wakes up.

- The kitchen (example without punctuation marks, Juan Ortiz)

I

It is the part of the house

where the flavors come together

there sprout from love

the richest smells

II

Pasta is prepared in it

also tasty stews

salads desserts dishes

for very precise tastes

III

Family gathers

in it to share

and well together enjoy

how beautiful it is to live

- I must study (Juan Ortiz)

I

I must study to achieve

the goals in my life, so that no one decides

where can I go.

And I study to change

the bad for the good, to be the thunder of lightning, rumble in places, to reform homes

and put a brake on crime.

II

Studying is the call

for a real change, who studies is a vigilante, he is a very dedicated being.

Studying makes you winged, open the sky and its ways, to the ear gives trills

of pure wisdom, the voice gives sweetness, covered with fine garments.

III

I must study for my family, for my people, for my people, for a different world, Well, educate yourself conciliates.

Who is formed, then, helps, gives light and gives hope, lighting reaches

and serves as a guide to anyone, opportunities creates, and the values ​​strengthens.

- Pollution (Juan Ortiz)

I

The planet suffers and suffers

because the contamination, cancer of every nation, valley of shadows and brimstone.

II

It is the duty of the citizen, of every man, every child, care, pamper, give affection

to its closest environment.

III

Let's not make the seas dirty anymore, neither the forests nor the rivers, nor the lakes with ships, They are sacred, they are altars.

- The school (Juan Ortiz)

I

School is the place

where are we going to learn

to make being grow, have fun and play.

II

Friendship gives in heaps, and very good teachings, if you know him you advance

between sums and fractions.

III

Its spaces feed

the soul, also the mind, the source is of knowledge, and spirits increase.

- Sports (Juan Ortiz)

I

To stay fit

nothing like good sport, for the muscle it is consort

health is the norm.

II

Be it cycling or swimming, tennis, soccer or fencing, sport is raw material

for a healthy heart.

III

I apply it daily, even if it's an hour, because joy arises

the rest of the schedule.

- Tenths to the wind (Juan Ortiz)

I

You don't know where it goes

neither where does it come from

what shape your body is, or if he dreams, maybe, maybe.

The wind its cool day, is that what I do know, to the mill gives strength and faith

to the man when he feels, and his silent presence

accompany to drink coffee.

II

For him the ship plows the sea

with its crystalline trail, the wind is fine transparency

that helps man in his walk.

And if we talk about flying, to the alcatraz he gives his strength

for a smooth journey to exercise

there at the level of the horizon, also gives the faithful mockingbird

courage so that it is not twisted.

III

And even though we can't see

its image or its shape, with its force goes and deforms

even an oak, with power.

And still in the evening

his great work does not cease, is infinite speaker, voice from heaven here on earth

-from the plain to the mountains-, of the great God, the noble Author.

- In the rain (Juan Ortiz)

I

You come in your gray cloud

to give life to the earth, you come to give birth, nuance, to the sleeping landscape.

II

The field welcomes you, the house, the man, the child, the woman, the dog, the saint, and the path sprouted from yesterday.

III

You come to take the debris

with your soul of transparencies, you come loaded with astonishment

to this world full of memories.

- The distant sea

The fountain takes away its cantata.

All roads awaken…

Sea of ​​dawn, sea of ​​silver, How clean you are among the pines!

South wind, are you coming sonorous

of suns? The roads are blind…

Sea of ​​siesta, sea of ​​gold, How happy you are on the pines!

Says the verdon I do not know what…

My soul goes down the roads…

Evening sea, sea of ​​rose, How sweet you are among the pines!

Author: Juan Ramón Jiménez

- melancholy

Oh, death, I love you, but I adore you, life…

When I go in my box forever asleep, Make it last time

The spring sun penetrates my pupils.

Leave me some time under the heat of heaven

Let the fertile sun tremble on my ice…

The star was so good that at dawn it came out

To tell me: good morning.

I am not afraid of rest, rest is good,

But before the pious traveler kisses me

That every morning

Cheerful as a child, he came to my windows.

Author: Alfonsina Storni

- This

They say I pretend or lie.

I write everything. Not.

I just feel

With imagination.

I don't use my heart.

Everything I dream or live, What fails me or ends, It's like a terrace

Still about something else.

That thing is what is beautiful.

That is why I write in the middle.

of what is not at the bottom,

Free from my reverie

Serious about what it is not.

Feel? Let who reads feel!

Author: Fernando Pessoa

- Ostrich

Melancholy, take out your sweet beak now;

do not fatten your fasts on my wheats of light.

Melancholy, enough! Which do your daggers drink

the blood drawn by my blue leech!

Do not use up the woman's mana that has gone down;

I want some cross to be born from him tomorrow,

tomorrow that I have no one to turn my eyes to,

when he opens his big O mocking the coffin.

My heart is a pot watered with bitterness;

there are other old birds that graze inside it…

Melancholy, stop drying my life, and bare your female lip…!

Author: César Vallejo

- If a thorn hurts me…

If a thorn hurts me, I turn away from the thorn, … But I don't hate it! When meanness

envious in me she sticks the darts of her anger,

silently skip my plant, and head towards more pure

atmosphere of love and charity.

Grudges? What good are they! What do grudges accomplish?

They neither heal wounds, nor correct evil.

My rose bush barely has time to give flowers, and does not lavish sap on piercing spikes:

if my enemy passes near my rosebush, it will take the roses of the most subtle essence.

And if I notice some lively red in them, It will be that of that blood that his malevolence

yesterday he poured out, wounding me with bitterness and violence,

and that the rosebush returns, changed into a flower of peace!

Author: Amado Nervo

- Madrigal to the tram ticket

Where the wind, undaunted, revolts

towers of light against my blood, you, ticket, new flower, cut into the balconies of the tram.

You flee, straight, straight smooth, in your petal a name and a meeting

latent, to that center

closed and to be cut from engagement.

And the rose does not burn in you, nor does it deprive you

the late carnation, if the violet

contemporary, alive, of the book traveling in the jacket.

Author: Rafael Alberti

- If my hands could strip

I pronounce your name

in the dark nights, when the stars come

to drink on the moon

and the branches sleep

of hidden fronds.

And I feel hollow

of passion and music.

Crazy clock that sings

dead old hours.

I speak your name

in this dark night,

and your name sounds familiar to me

further away than ever.

Farther than all the stars

and more painful than the gentle rain.

Will I love you like then

ever? What fault

has my heart

If the fog clears

What other passion awaits me?

Will it be calm and pure?

If my fingers could

defoliate the moon!

Author: Federico García Lorca

- Attached to me

Fleece of my flesh

that in my entrails I wove,

shaky fleece, Fall asleep attached to me!

The partridge sleeps in the wheat

listening to it beat.

Do not be troubled by breath, Fall asleep attached to me!

I have lost everything

Now I even tremble when I sleep.

Don't slip off my chest

Fall asleep attached to me!

Author: Gabriela Mistral

- Prelude

While the shadow passes from a holy love, today I want

put a sweet psalm on my old lectern.

I will agree the notes of the severe organ

on the fragrant sigh of the April fife.

Autumn pomas will ripen their aroma;

myrrh and frankincense will sing their scent;

the rose bushes will breathe their fresh perfume, under the peace in the shade of the warm orchard in bloom.

To the slow low chord of music and aroma, the only and old and noble reason for my pray

it will lift its flight from a dove, and the white word will rise to the altar.

Author: Antonio Machado

- Evening love

It's a pity that you're not with me

when I look at the clock and it's four

and I finish the form and think ten minutes

and I stretch my legs like every afternoon

and I do this with my shoulders to loosen my back

And I bend my fingers and pull lies out of them

It's a pity that you're not with me

when I look at the clock and it's five

and I'm a handle that calculates interest

or two hands jumping over forty keys

or an ear that hears the phone barking

or a guy who does numbers and gets truths out of them.

It's a pity that you're not with me

When I look at the clock and it's six

You could come close in surprise

and tell me "What's up?" and we would stay

I with the red stain of your lips

you with the blue smudge of my carbon.

Author: Mario Benedetti

References

1. Poem and its elements: stanza, verse, rhyme. Recovered from portaleducativo.net
2. Poem. Recovered from es.wikipedia.org
3. Poems by Juan Ramón Jiménez, César Vallejo and Gabriela Mistral. Recovered from amediavoz.com
4. Poems by Alfonsina Storni and Rafael Alberti. Recovered from poesi.as
5. Poems by Fernando Pessoa. Recovered from poeticas.com.ar
6. Poems by Amado Nervo and Antonio Machado. Recovered from los-poetas.com
7. Poems by Federico García Lorca. Recovered from federicogarcialorca.net
8. Poems by Mario Benedetti. Recovered from poemas.yavendras.com