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| Title | Poet | text | ctext | Poem Link | wordcount | one_sentence_summary |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Never Shall I Forget by Elie Wiesel | Elie Wiesel | Never Shall I Forget' by Elie Wiesel is a harrowing passage recounting the first night he spent at Birkenau from Wiesel's famous memoir Night. In these lines, Wiesel moves away from his traditional narration style that's used throughout the rest of the book and considers how this one night of his life changed him forever. He speaks on the smoke, the stillness and quiet, and how if he lived as long as God he'd never forget what he saw and felt. | Never shall I forget that night, the first night in camp, that turned my life into one long night seven times sealed. Never shall I forget that smoke. Never shall I forget the small faces of the children whose bodies I saw transformed into smoke under a silent sky. Never shall I forget those flames that consumed my faith for ever. Never shall I forget the nocturnal silence that deprived me for all eternity of the desire to live. Never shall I forget those moments that murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to ashes. Never shall I forget those things, even were I condemned to live as long as God Himself. Never | https://www.hmd.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2018/06/Never-Shall-I-Forget.pdf | 103 | A poem about a single, harrowing night of smoke and stillness that changed a person forever, leaving memories that could never be forgotten for as long as one lives. |
| Leap Before You Look by W. H. Auden | W.H. Auden | 'Leap Before You Look' by W. H. Auden is all about taking risks in life and having an action-oriented mind. In this poem, Auden talks about how sometimes people should embrace uncertainty in life. His speaker refers to the very presence of danger in each step of life. It is crucial for his friend if he wants to do great things in his life. The way things are supposed to be done might not change, but the fear of doing something uniquely should be eliminated. People who constantly worry about the outcomes and take everything too seriously might not be able to live to the fullest. They fail to recognize the chances and restrain themselves due to their cautiousness. Furthermore, Auden comments upon society “consenting” to live as mere sheep. People tend to follow the flock or the way others lead their lives. They never take a route of their own. The speaker counsels against this mindset throughout the poem. | The sense of danger must not disappear: The way is certainly both short and steep, However gradual it looks from here; Look if you like, but you will have to leap. Tough-minded men get mushy in their sleep And break the by-laws any fool can keep; It is not the convention but the fear That has a tendency to disappear. The worried efforts of the busy heap, The dirt, the imprecision, and the beer Produce a few smart wisecracks every year; Laugh if you can, but you will have to leap. The clothes that are considered right to wear Will not be either sensible or cheap, So long as we consent to live like sheep And never mention those who disappear. Much can be said for social savoir-faire, But to rejoice when no one else is there Is even harder than it is to weep; No one is watching, but you have to leap. A solitude ten thousand fathoms deep Sustains the bed on which we lie, my dear: Although I love you, you will have to leap; Our dream of safety has to disappear. | https://knopfdoubleday.com/2012/04/16/w-h-auden-leap-before-you-look/ | 161 | "A poem about embracing uncertainty, taking risks, and leaping into action rather than following the flock or restraining oneself through fear and cautiousness." |
| Love Songs In Age by Philip Larkin | Philip Larkin | 'Love Songs in Age' is about a widow who accidentally rediscovers her old sheet music. She plays them again, and remembers the hope and promise in them of “that much-mentioned brilliance, love.” When she puts them away, she cries and acknowledges their failure to fix the world, as they promised they would. | She kept her songs, they kept so little space, The covers pleased her: One bleached from lying in a sunny place, One marked in circles by a vase of water, One mended, when a tidy fit had seized her, And coloured, by her daughter - So they had waited, till, in widowhood She found them, looking for something else, and stood Relearning how each frank submissive chord Had ushered in Word after sprawling hyphenated word, And the unfailing sense of being young Spread out like a spring-woken tree, wherein That hidden freshness sung, That certainty of time laid up in store As when she played them first. But, even more, The glare of that much-mentionned brilliance, love, Broke out, to show Its bright incipience sailing above, Still promising to solve, and satisfy, And set unchangeably in order. So To pile them back, to cry, Was hard, without lamely admitting how It had not done so then, and could not now. | https://www.thepoetryhour.com/poems/love-songs-in-age | 136 | A poem about a widow rediscovering her old sheet music and mourning love's failure to deliver on its promise of brilliance and hope. |
| Another Valentine by Wendy Cope | Wendy Cope | 'Another Valentine' by Wendy Cope presents the real meaning of Valentine's day and most importantly the meaning of romantic love. This poem begins with the poetic persona's ironic statement. In modern times, people are obliged to be romantic as it does not come from the heart. Hence, the poet thinks otherwise. Everyone knows the rules that can be observed throughout the world. So modern lovers “have to be romantic” for the sake of pedantic customs. However, the speaker or the poet's persona says her love is “old and sure.” It's not new or frantic. Yet the speaker still feels the same vibes that she felt during the first few days of her relationship. For this reason, she says that the emotion lying at the deepest core of the heart makes her feel romantic, not Valentine's Day. | Today we are obliged to be romantic And think of yet another valentine. We know the rules and we are both pedantic: Today’s the day we have to be romantic. Our love is old and sure, not new and frantic. You know I’m yours and I know you are mine. And saying that has made me feel romantic, My dearest love, my darling valentine. | https://emilyspoetryblog.com/wendy-cope/poems/another-valentine/ | 56 | A poem about a speaker expressing how her deep, enduring love naturally makes her feel romantic, rather than feeling obligated to do so by the customs of Valentine's Day. |
| The Love Feast by W.H. Auden | W.H. Auden | 'The Love Feast' by W.H. Auden is a complex poem that depicts contemporary life alongside religious intention and structure. Throughout this poem Auden brings together, is a somewhat religious context, characters who interact, argue, love, and lust after one another. He creates several interesting examples of juxtaposition as his men and woman become distracted from the purpose of the feast, acts sinfully, but at the same time acknowledge God. This poem has several different interpretations, especially after getting to the final stanza and the speaker's cliffhanger ending. | In an upper room at midnight See us gathered on behalf Of love according to the gospel Of the radio-phonograph. Lou is telling Anne what Molly Said to Mark behind her back; Jack likes Jill who worships George Who has the hots for Jack. Catechumens make their entrance; Steep enthusiastic eyes Flicker after tits and baskets; Someone vomits; someone cries. Willy cannot bear his father, Lilian is afraid of kids; The Love that rules the sun and stars Permits what He forbids. Adrian’s pleasure-loving dachshund In a sinner’s lap lies curled; Drunken absent-minded fingers Pat a sinless world. Who is Jenny lying to In her call, Collect, to Rome? The Love that made her out of nothing Tells me to go home. But that Miss Number in the corner Playing hard to get… I am sorry I’m not sorry… Make me chaste, Lord, but not yet. | https://thepoetryhour.com/poems/the-love-feast | 118 | "A poem about men and women gathering at a feast, sinning and lusting after one another, while simultaneously acknowledging God and grappling with religious intention." |
| Only Child by D. Nurkse | D. Nurkse | Only Child by D. Nurkse begins by focusing on the moments after the birth of Nurkse's child, holding his Only Child after her birth. He realizes she knows nothing, having just come from the place 'where there was no world', not even knowing 'what a voice was'. He cradles her as he looks at the newborn. The second stanza moves in the child having a voice, asking Nurkse to watch her while 'cartwheel, the skip, the tumble' happen. This second stanza child is demanding, finding her voice, and asking for her father's attention. The third stanza examines a scene in which father and daughter are on a seesaw, with Nurkse writing that she 'has power' to lift him off the ground. This is a metaphor for how influential his daughter has become in his life, able to lift him and control him, despite her 'tiny weight'. The poem is a tribute to parenthood. | 1 I cradled my newborn daughter and felt the heartbeat pull me out of shock. She didn’t know what her hands were: she folded them. I asked her was there a place where there was no world. She didn’t know what a voice was: her lips were the shape of a nipple. 2 In the park the child says: watch me. It will not count unless you see. And she shows me the cartwheel, the skip, the tumble, the tricks performed at leisure in midair, each unknown until it is finished. At home she orders: see me eat. I watch her curl on herself, sleep; as I try to leave the dark room her dreaming voice commands me: watch. 3 Always we passed the seesaw on the way to the swings but tonight I remember the principle of the lever, I sit the child at one end, I sit near the center, the fulcrum, at once she has power to lift me off the earth and keep me suspended by her tiny weight, she laughing, I stunned at the power of the formula. | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/39226/only-child | 147 | "A poem about a father experiencing the transformative journey of parenthood, from cradling his newborn who knows nothing of the world, to being lifted and controlled by her tiny but powerful presence." |
| The Fly by Ogden Nash | Ogden Nash | The Fly' by Ogden Nash is a short poem in which the speaker speaks amusingly about a fly and how it is perceived by most people. The first line tells the reader, quite simply, that God made the fly in “his wisdom”. This sarcastic phrase is followed up by its second half in the second line. It adds that God “forgot” to tell humanity why he made this particularly annoying creature. Nash assumed, correctly, that the reader is going to understand the joke in these lines. | God in his wisdom made the fly And then forgot to tell us why. | https://www.poetrynook.com/poem/fly-0 | 12 | A poem about questioning why God, in his wisdom, created the universally despised fly without bothering to explain his reasoning to humanity. |
| Blowin’ in the Wind by Bob Dylan | Bob Dylan | Blowin' in the Wind' by Bob Dylan poses a series of questions to ironically point to humankind's passivity over the cruelties and brutal reality of the 20th century. Dylan's song describes how the things happening around the world pains a speaker deeply. This speaker belongs to the century when discrimination according to color and origin existed, basic human rights were denied, and above all the harrowing air of war was raging everywhere. In such a critical situation, a speaker asks several questions to his fellow human beings. It seems everyone knows the answer to his simple questions, yet they are ignoring reality. For example, he alludes to the World Wars in the first stanza and asks how long this problematic situation is going to exist. In the following stanzas, he taps on the issues of racism, confinement, ignorance, freedom, death, and distress. | How many roads must a man walk down Before you call him a man? Yes, n how many seas must a white dove sail Before she sleeps in the sand? Yes, n how many times must the cannon balls fly Before they're forever banned? The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind, The answer is blowin' in the wind. How many years can a mountain exist Before its washed to the sea? Yes, n how many years can some people exist Before they're allowed to be free? Yes, n how many times can a man turn his head, Pretending he just doesn't see? The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind, The answer is blowin' in the wind. How many times must a man look up Before he can see the sky? Yes, n how many ears must one man have Before he can hear people cry? Yes, n how many deaths will it take till he knows That too many people have died? The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind, The answer is blowin' in the wind. | https://www.austincc.edu/dlauderb/2341/Lyrics/Blowininthewind.htm | 158 | "A poem about posing ironic questions to highlight humankind's passivity in the face of war, racism, denied freedoms, and human cruelty." |
| I Said To Love by Thomas Hardy | Thomas Hardy | In short form, 'I Said To Love' is a love poem by Thomas Hardy that looks at loss and a sense of regret for what he has lost (referring to his passed wife, Emma). He comes across as having a bad experience with love that has punished him with feelings of remorse and pain come across in this poem. With this pain, Hardy personified Love so that he can take out the pain on the personification of Love. “Love” appears to him as an unkind man who once showed him the positive sides of it. But, now as he has lost his wife, it is giving him extreme distress. He tells love to leave at once and relieve him from the pain he is suffering after the loss of his dear one. | I said to Love, "It is not now as in old days When men adored thee and thy ways All else above; Named thee the Boy, the Bright, the One Who spread a heaven beneath the sun," I said to Love. I said to him, "We now know more of thee than then; We were but weak in judgment when, With hearts abrim, We clamoured thee that thou would'st please Inflict on us thine agonies," I said to him. I said to Love, "Thou art not young, thou art not fair, No faery darts, no cherub air, Nor swan, nor dove Are thine; but features pitiless, And iron daggers of distress," I said to Love. "Depart then, Love! . . . - Man's race shall end, dost threaten thou? The age to come the man of now Know nothing of? - We fear not such a threat from thee; We are too old in apathy! Mankind shall cease.--So let it be," I said to Love. | poemhunter.com/poem/i-said-to-love/ | 136 | "A poem about a grieving man personifying Love and demanding it leave him, as it has transformed from showing him joy to inflicting unbearable pain and remorse following the loss of his beloved." |
| Sonnet 31 by Sir Philip Sidney | Philip Sidney | Sonnet 31 Analysis With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies! How silently, and with how wan a face! What, may it be that even in heav'nly place That busy archer his sharp arrows tries! Sure, if that long-with love-acquainted eyes Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case, I read it in thy looks; thy languish'd grace To me, that feel the like, thy state descries. The octet depicts the lyrical voice's perception of the moon. The poem starts by describing how the moon rises in the sky at night. The lyrical voice personifies the moon (“O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!) and projects his/ own sorrows in the moon (“With how sad steps”). The lyrical voice describes the moon carefully, as an individual being: “How silently, and with how wan face!”. There is a repetition of the word “how” in order to emphasize the lyrical voice's attention to the object that he is describing. The lyrical voice questions about the moon's sadness, and figures that it must be because of “What, may it be that even in heav'nly place /That busy archer his sharp arrows tries” (cupid). The lyrical voice's connection of his feelings to those of the moon is an example of a “pathetic fallacy”, where elements of nature appear to have human emotions. The lyrical voice suggests that the moon is struggling with sentimental problems, as he can see them from experiencing them himself: Sure, if that long-with love-acquainted eyes /Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case”. This furthers the personification and the “phatetic fallacy” mentioned before. The lyrical voice can “read it in thy looks” and the moon appears to be, again, weak (“thy languish'd grace”). This portrait of the moon shows the lyrical voice's assurance about the moon being lovesick. Once again, the lyrical voice compares the moon's state to his, making a direct relationship between the moon's suffering and his (“To me, that feel the like, thy state descries”). Notice how the unusual syntax accentuates the words of suffering that the lyrical voice is expressing. Then, … | With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb’st the skies! How silently, and with how wan a face! What, may it be that even in heavenly place That busy archer his sharp arrows tries? Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes Can judge of love, thou feel’st a lover’s case, I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace, To me that feel the like, thy state descries. Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me, Is constant love deemed there but want of wit? Are beauties there as proud as here they be? Do they above love to be loved, and yet Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess? Do they call virtue there ungratefulness? | https://www.cieliterature.com/sonnet-31/ | 101 | "A poem about a lovesick lyrical voice projecting his own sorrows onto the moon, questioning whether the pain and unrequited nature of love on earth is mirrored in the heavens above." |
| Description of Spring by Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey | Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey | 'Description of Spring' by Henry Howard is a simple depiction of spring and how it contrasts with the speaker's emotions. In the first part of the poem, the poet outlines all the wildlife and how each living creature is reacting to spring. He uses examples of personification and anaphora to emphasize how the entire world seems to be shedding the winter and embracing spring. But, as he reveals in the concluding couplet, the season is not uplifting him in the same way. His sorrow is only growing worse because of the beauty and joy he sees around him. | The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings, With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale: The nightingale with feathers new she sings; The turtle to her make hath told her tale. Summer is come, for every spray now springs: The hart hath hung his old head on the pale; The buck in brake his winter coat he flings; The fishes flete with new repaired scale. The adder all her slough away she slings; The swift swallow pursueth the flies smale; The busy bee her honey now she mings; Winter is worn that was the flowers' bale. And thus I see among these pleasant things Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs. | https://poemanalysis.com/henry-howard/description-of-spring/ | 102 | "A poem about the joyful awakening of nature in spring contrasting with a speaker's deepening sorrow." |
| Passage to India by Walt Whitman | Walt Whitman | 'Passage to India' by Walt Whitman describes an imaginary journey that a speaker wants to take into fabled India. Passage to India begins with a description of the new marvel of the modern world and how they are part of God's plan. These works, the Suez Canal, the great American Railway, and the transatlantic cable allowed men and women to know one another in a new way. He sees India as a mysterious and fabled place that once visited, will allow the rejuvenation of his soul. He will return to the birthplace of mankind and be renewed for the rest of his life. The Passage to India is not easy, many have died on the way. That scares the speaker, but not so much so as to deter him from undertaking the voyage. The pull of exploration is like a current running through the human race and he is a part of it and wants to feel the connectivity of the earth. The speaker also takes the time to mourn the downfall of men, like Columbus, who ended their lives unhappily. He imagines that he is on this important journey with his soul and that the two of them are circumnavigating the earth together. After asking himself if he is ready to go further on his journey, the reply is an eventual yes and he commands the anchor to be lifted. While the voyage might seem like a terrifying one, he is protected by God. | Passage O soul to India! Eclaircise the myths Asiatic, the primitive fables. Not you alone, proud truths of the world, Nor you alone, ye facts of modern science, But myths and fables of eld, Asia’s, Africa’s fables, The far-darting beams of the spirit, the unloos’d dreams, The deep diving bibles and legends, The daring plots of the poets, the elder religions; O you temples fairer than lilies, pour’d over by the rising sun! O you fables, spurning the known, eluding the hold of the known, mounting to heaven! You lofty and dazzling towers, pinnacled, red as roses, burnish’d with gold! Towers of fables immortal, fashion’d from mortal dreams! You too I welcome, and fully, the same as the rest! You too with joy I sing. Passage to India! Lo, soul! seest thou not God’s purpose from the first? The earth to be spann’d, connected by network, The races, neighbors, to marry and be given in marriage, The oceans to be cross’d, the distant brought near, The lands to be welded together. A worship new I sing, You captains, voyagers, explorers, yours, You engineers, you architects, machinists, yours, You, not for trade or transportation only, But in God’s name, and for thy sake, O soul. | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/50978/a-passage-to-india | 198 | A poem about a speaker journeying toward the fabled birthplace of mankind, seeking the rejuvenation of his soul while feeling the pull of exploration and the connectivity of the earth, protected by God. |
| His Return to London by Robert Herrick | Robert Herrick | His Return to London' by Robert Herrick is a celebration of one speaker's joyful return to London and his hopes that he can remain there. The speaker begins 'His Return to London' by stating that he is on a journey from the west to the east. This is a trip that he is relishing. It is taking him from somewhere dark and dreary, to somewhere bright and pregnant with possibility. In fact, London is so special to him, that he sees it as a place of nativity. It is important to him, just like one's spiritual or religious beliefs would be. In the next lines, he celebrates the fact that there are so many different kinds of people in the country. At the same time, he speaks directly to the citizens telling them that London is his home, but something happened that sent him into banishment. Now, he has been called back to his country. He is ready to remain there permanently until he dies. He feels that this will not be too long from now, and hopes that he can be buried in the London ground. | From the dull confines of the drooping west To see the day spring from the pregnant east, Ravish'd in spirit, I come, nay more, I fly To thee, blest place of my nativity! Thus, thus with hallow'd foot I touch the ground, With thousand blessings by thy fortune crown'd. O fruitful genius! that bestowest here An everlasting plenty, year by year. O place! O people! Manners! fram'd to please All nations, customs, kindreds, languages! I am a free-born Roman; suffer then That I amongst you live a citizen. London my home is, though by hard fate sent Into a long and irksome banishment; Yet since call'd back, henceforward let me be, O native country, repossess'd by thee! For, rather than I'll to the west return, I'll beg of thee first here to have mine urn. Weak I am grown, and must in short time fall; Give thou my sacred relics burial. | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47289/his-return-to-london | 131 | A poem about a speaker joyfully returning to their beloved London from a dark and dreary west, celebrating the city as their spiritual home and expressing their hope of remaining there until death. |
| Boot and Saddle by Robert Browning | Robert Browning | Boot and Saddle' by Robert Browning is a perfectly rhymed poem that depicts the ride of an Englishmen going to fight during the English Civil War. The poem focuses on the action of the man on horseback. He repeats, through a chorus of “'Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!'” that he's prepared for any fight. The speaker addresses the location, Brancepeth Castle, and those he will find there: the Roundheads, or Parliamentarians. He has no intention of surrendering and will only take the advice of counselors who are prepared to fight. | Boot, saddle, to horse, and away! Rescue my Castle, before the hot day Brightens the blue from its silvery grey, (Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!" Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say; Many's the friend there, will listen and pray "God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay, (Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!" Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay, Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads array: Who laughs, Good fellows ere this, by my fay, (Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!" Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay, Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay! I've better counsellors; what counsel they?" (Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!" | https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/boot-and-saddle/ | 101 | "A poem about an Englishman riding on horseback to battle during the English Civil War, repeatedly declaring his readiness to fight and refusing to surrender to his enemies." |
| The Snow Fairy by Claude McKay | Claude McKay | 'The Snow Fairy' by Claude McKay is a beautifully written poem in which the poet presents two sonnets with similar imagery. The first of the two sonnets focuses on a snowfall, something he compares to “snow-fairies” fighting for supremacy in the sky and then resting peacefully on the ground. He uses personification throughout the piece, until the end when they've “gone,” or melted away. In the second sonnet, the speaker picks his line of thought immediately back up with the word “And.” It appears that the first sonnet has led him to the thoughts he has in the second. He imagines “you,” an unknown listener and the speaker's lover, coming to him and bringing warmth and summer into his home. Together, the two go to bed. When he wakes up, this person is gone as if they left with the dawn as a dream. | Throughout the afternoon I watched them there, Snow-fairies falling, falling from the sky, Whirling fantastic in the misty air, Contending fierce for space supremacy. And they flew down a mightier force at night, As though in heaven there was revolt and riot, And they, frail things had taken panic flight Down to the calm earth seeking peace and quiet. I went to bed and rose at early dawn To see them huddled together in a heap, Each merged into the other upon the lawn, Worn out by the sharp struggle, fast asleep. The sun shone brightly on them half the day, By night they stealthily had stol’n away. II And suddenly my thoughts then turned to you Who came to me upon a winter’s night, When snow-sprites round my attic window flew, Your hair disheveled, eyes aglow with light. My heart was like the weather when you came, The wanton winds were blowing loud and long; But you, with joy and passion all aflame, You danced and sang a lilting summer song. I made room for you in my little bed, Took covers from the closet fresh and warm, A downful pillow for your scented head, And lay down with you resting in my arm. You went with Dawn. You left me ere the day, The lonely actor of a dreamy play. | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/53213/the-snow-fairy | 193 | A poem about snowflakes falling and resting peacefully before melting away, leading the speaker to imagine a lover bringing warmth into his life, only to disappear like a fleeting dream. |
| The Snowman on the Moor by Sylvia Plath | Sylvia Plath | Sylvia Plath’s ‘The Snowman on the Moor‘ discusses the emotional toll that an abusive relationship takes on the victim. ‘The Snowman on the Moor‘ follows Plath’s perspective on emotional abuse within a seemingly perfect relationship and discusses the perpetuated cycle of abuse and internal struggle that the female victim faces within herself. By incorporating her own experiences and personal pronouns, the poet makes the content of the poem relatable to every sufferer of abuse within romantic relationships. | Stalemated their armies stood, with tottering banners: She flung from a room Still ringing with bruit of insults and dishonors And in fury left him Glowering at the coal-fire: "Come find me"-her last taunt. He did not come But sat on, guarding his grim battlement. By the doorstep Her winter-beheaded daisies, marrowless, gaunt, Warned her to keep Indoors with politic goodwill, not haste Into a landscape Of stark wind-harrowed hills and weltering mist; But from the house She stalked intractable as a driven ghost Across moor snows Pocked by rook-claw and rabbit-track: she must yet win Him to his kneesn- | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?contentId=27374 | 85 | A poem about exploring the emotional and internal struggles of a woman enduring abuse within a romantic relationship. |
| A Stopwatch and an Ordnance Map by Stephen Spender | Stephen Spender | 'A Stopwatch and an Ordnance Map' by Stephen Spender is a poem about the effect of war, mortality, and time. In the first part of the poem, Spender uses two refrains and several other lines to describe the death of a soldier who lost his life while fighting. His death was incredibly important to the poet's speaker. He emphasizes the watch the man had on his wrist as well. In the second septet, or set of seven lines, the speaker describes this one man's death, and the presence of his body brings sorrow to all those who observed it. The man is split from his comrades by the bullet and now proceeds on a lonely path toward death. In the final section of the poem, the speaker alludes to a friend that the deceased soldier left behind. This man is also marked forever by his friend's loss. | A stopwatch and an ordnance map. At five a man fell to the ground And the watch flew off his wrist Like a moon struck from the earth Marking a blank time that stares On the tides of change beneath. All under the olive trees. A stopwatch and an ordnance map. He stayed faithfully in that place From his living comrade split By dividers of the bullet Opening wide the distances Of his final loneliness. All under the olive trees. A stopwatch and an ordnance map. And the bones are fixed at five Under the moon's timelessness; But another who lives on Wears within his heart forever Space split open by the bullet. All under the olive trees. | poemhunter.com/poem/a-stopwatch-and-an-ordnance-map/ | 97 | "A poem about a soldier dying in war, leaving behind sorrow in his comrades and marking forever those who observed his lonely path toward death." |
| The Harvest Moon by Ted Hughes | Ted Hughes | 'The Harvest Moon' by Ted Hughes describes the awe-inspiring beauty of the harvest moon and captures the reaction of different creatures. 'The Harvest Moon' by Ted Hughes describes the appearance of the harvest moon in the sky as a “flame-red” object. Thereafter, the poet captures its movement across the sky and uses different literary devices to compare its changing beauty. He uses the images of “balloon” and “doubloon” for this purpose. The instruments mentioned in the first stanza of the poem captures the sound present in nature. After that, there is a reference to the people's activity during the harvest moon. They are pious about the autumnal full moon. Moreover, the third stanza, presents how the cows and sheep react while watching the moon. In the last stanza, the poet presents the main idea of the poem by personifying the “gold fields”. | The flame-red moon, the harvest moon, Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing, A vast balloon, Till it takes off, and sinks upward To lie on the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon. The harvest moon has come, Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon. And the earth replies all night, like a deep drum. So people can't sleep, So they go out where elms and oak trees keep A kneeling vigil, in a religious hush. The harvest moon has come! And all the moonlit cows and all the sheep Stare up at her petrified, while she swells Filling heaven, as if red hot, and sailing Closer and closer like the end of the world. Till the gold fields of stiff wheat Cry `We are ripe, reap us!' and the rivers Sweat from the melting hills. | https://allpoetry.com/poem/8495327-The-Harvest-Moon-by-Ted-Hughes | 118 | A poem about the harvest moon rising as a flame-red object, moving across the sky and inspiring awe in both creatures and people as it illuminates the gold fields below. |
| To a Captious Critic by Paul Laurence Dunbar | Paul Laurence Dunbar | 'To a Captious Critic' by Paul Laurence Dunbar is a short, punchy poem that mocks a critic and the world of literary criticism. The poem begins with the speaker addressing the critic, telling him that he's a boring prince ruling over a “dull” world. It's clear Dunbar feels disdain for the profession, but at the same time, he tells this person that he could do their job far better than they can. In the last line, he calls for the critic to step down from his throne and allow other, smarter people, to take his place. | Dear critic, who my lightness so deplores, Would I might study to be prince of bores, Right wisely would I rule that dull estate— But, sir, I may not, till you abdicate | https://etc.usf.edu/lit2go/192/lyrics-of-love-and-laughter/4041/to-a-captious-critic/ | 28 | "A poem about a speaker mocking a dull, boring critic and calling for him to step down from his throne to allow smarter people to take his place." |
| The Gift of India by Sarojini Naidu | Sarojini Naidu | The poem 'The Gift of India' by Sarojini Naidu sounds like an appeal made by mother India to the world to remember the contribution of Indian soldiers during World War I. It is surcharged with the emotional outpouring of a mother, reminiscence on how her children fought and died during World War I. In the first stanza, the poet regards all the benefits of raiment, grain, and gold unearthed and taken away across the world as gifts from India. The second stanza pictures the pathetic situation of those who lost their lives miles apart from home. The third stanza briefs on the grief brought home by their death. Finally, in the fourth stanza, the poet or the speaker appeals to honor the sacrifices of the Indian soldiers. | Is there aught you need that my hands withhold, Rich gifts of raiment or grain or gold? Lo! I have flung to the East and West Priceless treasures torn from my breast, And yielded the sons of my stricken womb To the drum-beats of duty, the sabres of doom. Gathered like pearls in their alien graves Silent they sleep by the Persian waves, Scattered like shells on Egyptian sands, They lie with pale brows and brave, broken hands, They are strewn like blossoms mown down by chance On the blood-brown meadows of Flanders and France. Can ye measure the grief of the tears I weep Or compass the woe of the watch I keep? Or the pride that thrills thro' my heart's despair And the hope that comforts the anguish of prayer? And the far sad glorious vision I see Of the torn red banners of Victory? When the terror and tumult of hate shall cease And life be refashioned on anvils of peace, And your love shall offer memorial thanks To the comrades who fought in your dauntless ranks, And you honour the deeds of the deathless ones Remember the blood of thy martyred sons! | poetrybyheart.org.uk/poems/the-gift-of-india | 172 | A poem about mother India emotionally appealing to the world to remember and honor the sacrifices of her children who fought and died in World War I, while reflecting on the gifts of raiment, grain, and gold she has given. |
| The Farrier by Owen Sheers | Owen Sheers | ‘The Farrier’ by Owen Sheers portrays the story of a farrier attaching new shoes on a female horse. The poem is often interpreted as an extended metaphor to portray the complexities of the relationship between males and females. The archetypical portrayal of the masculine and feminine within the poem convene to present Sheers’ upbringing, being from a strict background in which gender roles were clearly defined. | Blessing himself with his apron, the leather black and tan of a rain-beaten bay, he pinches a roll-up to his lips and waits the smoke slow-turning from his mouth, for the mare to be led from the field to the yard and the wind twisting his sideburns in its fingers. She smells him as he passes, woodbine, metal and hoof, careful not to look her in the eye as he runs his hand the length of her neck, checking for dust on the lintels. Folding her back leg with one arm, he leans into her flank like a man putting his shoulder to a knackered car, catches the hoof between his knees as if it's just fallen from a table, cups her fetlock and bends, a romantic lead dropping to the lips of his lover. Then the close work begins: cutting moon-sliver clippings, excavating the arrow head of her frog, filing at the sole and branding on a shoe in an apparition of smoke, three nails gritted between his teeth, a seamstress pinning the dress of the bride. Placing his tools in their beds, he gives her a slap and watches her leave, awkward in her new shoes, walking on strange ground. The sound of his steel, biting at her heels. | https://genius.com/Owen-sheers-the-farrier-annotated | 186 | A poem about a farrier shoeing a female horse, serving as an extended metaphor exploring the complex and deeply defined dynamics existing between masculine and feminine forces. |
| Romeo and Juliet Act I Prologue by William Shakespeare | William Shakespeare | Act I Prologue' by William Shakespeare the chorus provides the reader with information about the setting, the “Two households” that the play hinges around and the “new mutiny” that stimulates the action. The prologue alludes to the end of the play in which both Romeo and Juliet lost their lives. It is only due to that loss that their “parents' rage” ends. The lines also specifically address the audience asking them to list with “patient ears” and find out how the events are going to play out. | Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life, Whose misadventured piteous overthrows Doth, with their death, bury their parents' strife. The fearful passage of their death-marked love And the continuance of their parents' rage — Which, but their children's end, nought could remove — Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; The which, if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend. | https://myshakespeare.com/romeo-and-juliet/act-1-prologue | 95 | A poem about two feuding households whose bitter conflict is only ending through the tragic loss of their children's lives. |
| Concord Hymn by Ralph Waldo Emerson | Ralph Waldo Emerson | Concord Hymn' by Ralph Waldo Emerson describes the spirit which inhabited the “embattled farmers” at the start of the Revolutionary War. The poem begins with the speaker stating that farmers have gathered at a “rude bridge” on the bank of a river. They have come together in preparation for a battle that they know is coming. The next lines of the poem make clear that it is time for a change. The residents of the Colonies have had enough, and are ready to fight, hand-to-hand if necessary, for what they want. In the last two stanzas of the poem, the speaker describes the dedication of the monument for which the poem was written. He asks God to spare the statue from any of the damages “Time” or “Nature” could inflict upon it as the generations to come to need to understand its importance. | By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood And fired the shot heard round the world. The foe long since in silence slept; Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; And Time the ruined bridge has swept Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. On this green bank, by this soft stream, We set today a votive stone; That memory may their deed redeem, When, like our sires, our sons are gone. Spirit, that made those heroes dare To die, and leave their children free, Bid Time and Nature gently spare The shaft we raise to them and thee. | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45870/concord-hymn | 93 | "A poem about embattled farmers gathering at a bridge to fight for change, and asking God to preserve the monument commemorating their revolutionary spirit for future generations." |
| Autumn Song by Dante Gabriel Rossetti | Dante Gabriel Rossetti | Autumn Song' by Dante Gabriel Rossetti describes the pains experienced by nature at the end of autumn and how these pains are translated to humankind. The poem begins with the speaker asking his first question. He wants to know if the reader is aware of the fact that one” heart feels the most grief “at the fall of the leaf.” It is the days of autumn, particularly those which are edging on towards winter which is the hardest to live through. They are marked by an inescapable decay that makes its way through every living thing. In the second section, the speaker moves on to discuss the emotional and mental impacts of the changing season. One's mind will decay alongside one's body. It will be in vain to try to prevent this from happening or make any attempt to outlast it. He also states that this period of time will force one to watch their “joys” suffer. In the final set of five lines death is described as being preferable to the long decay of autumn. By the time the pain sets in, one will be ready to face death. It will be the more “comely” option between the two. | Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf How the heart feels a languid grief Laid on it for a covering, And how sleep seems a goodly thing In Autumn at the fall of the leaf? And how the swift beat of the brain Falters because it is in vain, In Autumn at the fall of the leaf Knowest thou not? and how the chief Of joys seems—not to suffer pain? Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf How the soul feels like a dried sheaf Bound up at length for harvesting, And how death seems a comely thing In Autumn at the fall of the leaf? | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45005/autumn-song-56d22452505f6 | 95 | A poem about nature's autumnal decay translating into human suffering, as the mind and body deteriorate alongside the dying season, rendering death a more welcome fate than the prolonged pain of living through it. |
| Postscript by Seamus Heaney | Seamus Heaney | Postscript' by Seamus Heaney is a short, meditative poem that describes a transitory moment by the sea and the sight of swans on a lake. The poem begins with the speaker telling the reader they should take the time to travel to the Flaggy Shore in the northern part of County Clare, Ireland. There, if they arrive between September and October, they'll see the area at its best. The sea will light up and glitter and there will be swans landing on the “inland” lake. He focuses on these creatures, describing them and their actions in great detail. The purity of this moment should not be violated by attempts to know it more fully. Instead, one should let the emotion rock their body, experiencing it this once in that time and place. | And some time make the time to drive out west Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore, In September or October, when the wind And the light are working off each other So that the ocean on one side is wild With foam and glitter, and inland among stones The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit By the earthed lightning of a flock of swans, Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white, Their fully grown headstrong-looking heads Tucked or cresting or busy underwater. Useless to think you’ll park and capture it More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there, A hurry through which known and strange things pass As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways And catch the heart off guard and blow it open. | https://poems.com/poem/postscript/ | 113 | A poem about experiencing a fleeting moment by the sea and lake, where the sight of swans and glittering water is washing over the soul and rocking the body with pure, untameable emotion. |
| On Sitting Down to Read King Lear Once Again by John Keats | John Keats | In the poem, Keats fights against his ulterior urge to create in order to indulge in one of his greatest passions: that of re-reading the play, King Lear, one of the most influential of all of Shakespeare's work. 'King Lear' is a play about family and misery, duty and birthright, and how one's opinion can lead to tragedy. It is one of Shakespeare's most revered plays, played constantly over the years to crowds of packed audiences; and it is no secret why the play itself is one of Keat's favourites. 'King Lear' is all about artifice and joy and misery, things that Keats himself saw echoed and repeated in his own life, and tried to echo and repeat in his own work. | O golden-tongued Romance with serene lute! Fair plumed Syren! Queen of far away! Leave melodizing on this wintry day, Shut up thine olden pages, and be mute: Adieu! for once again the fierce dispute, Betwixt damnation and impassion'd clay Must I burn through; once more humbly assay The bitter-sweet of this Shakespearian fruit. Chief Poet! and ye clouds of Albion, Begetters of our deep eternal theme, When through the old oak forest I am gone, Let me not wander in a barren dream, But when I am consumed in the fire, Give me new Phoenix wings to fly at my desire. | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44482/on-sitting-down-to-read-king-lear-once-again | 87 | "A poem about indulging in the re-reading of King Lear, a play exploring family, misery, duty, and tragedy, while fighting against the urge to create." |
| To Althea, from Prison by Richard Lovelace | Richard Lovelace | To Althea, from Prison' by Richard Lovelace describes a poet's attempts at maintaining his freedom while imprisoned in Gatehouse Prison in 1642. The poem begins with the speaker stating that while imprisoned in his cell his love comes to him and improves his situation. He imagines that his lover, Althea, visits him and takes his confinement away. His imaginings free him from the gates and grates which surround him. In the next section, he recalls moments of happiness drinking with others. These times brought him, and his friends, a freedom which was greater than that known by fish in the sea. They drink to the health of their king, a fact which contributed to the poet's imprisonment in the first place. In the last sections, he describes his ability to sing more shrilly than a “linnet.” This bird's song is not as sweet or loud as his is. His words will glorify the king and provide him with a freedom greater than that known by the winds which turn up a flood. The final lines return to the speaker's lover and he states that their love makes him freer than the angels which “soar” in the sky. | When Love with unconfinèd wings Hovers within my Gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the Grates; When I lie tangled in her hair, And fettered to her eye, The Gods that wanton in the Air, Know no such Liberty. When flowing Cups run swiftly round With no allaying Thames, Our careless heads with Roses bound, Our hearts with Loyal Flames; When thirsty grief in Wine we steep, When Healths and draughts go free, Fishes that tipple in the Deep Know no such Liberty. When (like committed linnets) I With shriller throat shall sing The sweetness, Mercy, Majesty, And glories of my King; When I shall voice aloud how good He is, how Great should be, Enlargèd Winds, that curl the Flood, Know no such Liberty. Stone Walls do not a Prison make, Nor Iron bars a Cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an Hermitage. If I have freedom in my Love, And in my soul am free, Angels alone that soar above, Enjoy such Liberty. | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44657/to-althea-from-prison | 138 | A poem about a prisoner finding freedom through his love, his camaraderie with friends drinking to their king, his singing voice, and ultimately the soaring love of another that transcends the physical constraints surrounding him. |
| The Great Figure by William Carlos Williams | William Carlos Williams | The first thing, and also last thing, Williams focuses on within this poem is the atmosphere. The keywords from this descriptive field are 'rain', 'lights', 'rumbling', and 'dark city'. The description of the scene, although short, is a sensory overload. Williams hastens to fit in as many sights and sounds as he can during the 31 lines. By setting the poem within this rainy, dark city, the poem takes on an air of nostalgia. By not identifying the city, the reader can self-identify with the poem, reading it into a location of their choosing. Without the appearance of the firetruck, the scene is actually a little depressing. The focus on the 'rain' and 'dark' culminate into a dingy and washed-out image. The sudden appearance of the truck breathes life into the poem, searing itself on the memory of the reader. The lack of sound within the city is also evident by the appearance of the truck. The onomatopoeic 'siren howls' and 'wheels rumbling' culminate together to slice through the silence of the city. This moment, although only a flash is one that sensorially captivates the reader. The flash of 'red' and 'gold', searing as an image accompanying the loudness of the firetruck. This moment is temporary, yet very impactful. Perhaps here Williams is reflecting on the idea of memory, with this seemingly insignificant moment creating such a powerful image. This is supported by the odd elements which William writes, especially that of the number '5' seared onto his brain. It does not always have to be magnificent which is solidified in memory. Speed Movement is one of the key facets of 'The Great Figure.' The slow steadiness of the 'rain' and 'light' beginning the poem is contrasted against the sudden disruption of the firetruck. Interestingly, 'moving' is one of the only words in the poem that has a line to itself, elevating its importance. The fleeting nature of the firetruck can be linked to the transitory nature of time. This moment of explosive action speeds past us and then is gone. The firetruck comes into, and out … | Among the rain and lights I saw the figure 5 in gold on a red firetruck moving tense unheeded to gong clangs siren howls and wheels rumbling through the dark city. | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/51549/the-great-figure | 18 | A poem about a firetruck's fleeting appearance searing itself on the memory, slicing through the silence of a dark, rainy city and urging the reader to find the extraordinary within the ordinary. |
| Amends by Adrienne Rich | Adrienne Rich | 'Amends' by Adrienne Rich describes the purity of moonlight as it passes over, and soaks into, the face of the earth. The speaker begins by describing the purity of the moon's light and how on certain nights it is more meaningful than others. The night of this poem's telling is one such night. The light emerges from behind an apple tree, crosses the ocean, pauses for a moment on the sand of the shore, relishing in the solidity of the earth, and then begins to climb. The moonlight moves up a cliff face and then comes into contact with humanity. It is forced to travel through gash-like “quarries” and across the vast piles of waste humankind has discarded. It finally reaches the population of the earth and rests of the eyelids of all the sleepers, hoping to “amend” the actions of humanity. The purity of light is being wielded as a weapon for the good of the earth. | Nights like this: on the cold apple bough a white star, then another exploding out of the bark: on the ground, moonlight picking at small stones as it picks greater stones, as it rises with the surf laying its cheek for moments on the sand as it licks the broken ledge, as it flows up the cliffs, as it flicks across the tracks as it unavailing pours into the gash of the sand-and-gravel quarry as it leans across the hangared fuselage of the crop-dusting plane as it soaks through cracks into trailers tremulous with sleep as it dwells upon the eyelids of the sleepers as if to make amends. | https://poetryprof.com/amends/ | 94 | "A poem about moonlight passing over the earth's landscape and resting on the eyelids of sleeping humanity, seeking to amend the damage humankind has caused." |
| Orinda to Lucasia by Katherine Philips | Katherine Philips | 'Orinda to Lucasia' by Katherine Philips describes the importance and intensity of the relationship she holds with her close friend, Anne Owens. The poem begins with the speaker describing what the world is like when it waits for the sun to rise. The night seems endless and the sun late to arrive in the sky. This intense wanting of light inspires the birds to cry out to the sky and the flowers to droop in sadness. Even the brook which should be fierce is mourning for the sun. The second stanza is directly related to the first as the speaker compares her friendship with Anne Owens to the sun. Owens, referred to as Lucasia in this text, is as critical to her survival as heat and light are to birds and flowers. For an unstated reason, the speaker and her friend are separated at this point and she knows she won't survive much longer without her. Even though it might be fruitless, she will continue to cry out, like the desperate birds of the first stanza, for Lucasia to return to her. | Observe the weary birds e're night be done, How they would fain call up the tardy Sun, With Feathers hung with dew, And trembling voices too, They court their glorious Planet to appear, That they may find recruits of spirits there. The drooping flowers hang their heads, And languish down into their beds: While Brooks more bold and fierce than they, Wanting those beams, from whence All things drink influence, Openly murmur and demand the day. Thou my Lucasia art far more to me, Than he to all the under-world can be; From thee I've heat and light, Thy absence makes my night. But ah! my Friend, it now grows very long, The sadness weighty, and the darkness strong: My tears (its dew) dwell on my cheeks, And still my heart thy dawning seeks, And to thee mournfully it cries, That if too long I wait, Ev'n thou may'st come too late, And not restore my life, but close my eyes. Rate this poem: | https://www.poetrynook.com/poem/orinda-lucasia | 139 | "A poem about a speaker longing desperately for her absent friend, comparing their separation to a world waiting endlessly for the sun to rise, and crying out for her return." |
| Reminiscence by Elizabeth Jennings | Elizabeth Jennings | The poem, Reminiscence, by Elizabeth Jennings is about experiencing love in childhood and adulthood. As the very title of the poem suggests itself that it is about the nostalgic feeling of childhood. The poet, comparing her childhood with the adulthood, says that her childhood was honest and innocent. Love in her childhood was neither complicated nor violently emotional. Remembering her childhood, the poet says that she could live her life as she wished. On the contrary, her adulthood introduces her to the stony world which asks for meanings of everything. She says where her childhood was full of glittering life; her adulthood taught her about the clarity of life. She says where in her childhood she never felt to understand the meaning of love and other things, her adulthood taught her the reality of life, but she says she doesn’t need such clarity. | When I was happy alone, too young for love Or to be loved in any but a way Cloudless and gentle, I would find the day Long as I wished its length or web to weave. I did not know or could not know enough To fret at thought or even try to whittle A pattern from the shapeless stony stuff That now confuses since I’ve grown too subtle. I used the senses, did not seek to find Something they could not touch, made numb with fear; I felt the glittering landscape in the mind And O was happy not to have it clear. | https://www.kidsworldfun.com/learn-english/poem-reminiscence.php | 92 | A poem about comparing the innocent and uncomplicated experience of love in childhood to the harsh and meaning-seeking nature of adulthood, longing for the simplicity that once was. |
| Democracy by Langston Hughes | Langston Hughes | Democracy' by Langston Hughes is a direct and powerful poem that asks the reader to reassess their ideas about freedom and democracy. In the short lines of this poem, the speaker makes the argument that they deserve to be free and “stand” on the “land” as much as “you” do. They have thus far been denied equal rights but it's time for things to change. Incremental change, he adds, or the promise of change in the future is not enough. He and all those in the Black community (or anyone who has been disenfranchised for that matter) want and deserve the same rights as those in power. | Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right As the other fellow has To stand On my two feet And own the land. I tire so of hearing people say, Let things take their course. Tomorrow is another day. I do not need my freedom when I'm dead. I cannot live on tomorrow's bread. Freedom Is a strong seed Planted In a great need. I live here, too. I want freedom Just as you. | https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/democracy/ | 63 | A poem about a speaker demanding equal freedom and rights on equal land, rejecting incremental change and insisting that full democracy is deserved now. |
| Shadwell Stair by Wilfred Owen | Wilfred Owen | 'Shadwell Stair' by Wilfred Owen describes a haunted track of docks in London and the emotional turmoil of the ghost that frequents them. The poem begins with the speaker stating that he is in fact a ghost, and spends his nights walking the “wharves” and “slaughter-house” around Shadwell Stair. He considers himself to be “the shadow” that walks and lives there. He continues on to state that while he may be a ghost, he is not without physical form. He still feels things, and his skin is cold to the touch. Additionally, he says that his eyes are like the reflections of lights in the water of the Thames. In the second half of the poem, the peaceful imagery has come to an end, and the speaker describes the turmoil he feels as night ends. He has walked until the stars are gone and conclude his wanderings by laying down beside another ghost. Explore more Wilfred Owen poems. | I am the ghost of Shadwell Stair. Along the wharves by the water-house, And through the cavernous slaughter-house, I am the shadow that walks there. Yet I have flesh both firm and cool, And eyes tumultuous as the gems Of moons and lamps in the full Thames When dusk sails wavering down the pool. Shuddering the purple street-arc burns Where I watch always; from the banks Dolorously the shipping clanks And after me a strange tide turns. I walk till the stars of London wane And dawn creeps up the Shadwell Stair. But when the crowing syrens blare I with another ghost am lain. | https://poets.org/poem/shadwell-stair | 88 | "A poem about a ghost haunting the docks and wharves around Shadwell Stair, feeling the cold of his physical form and the emotional turmoil of his nightly wanderings along the Thames until finally laying down beside another ghost as the stars fade." |
| Autumn Fires by Robert Louis Stevenson | Robert Louis Stevenson | Autumn Fires' by Robert Louis Stevenson is a straightforward, celebratory poem that compares autumn colors to a raging wildfire. In this short poem's stanzas, Stevenson celebrates the changes that come as the autumn season begins. All around the landscape, he can see the red fires of changing leaves burning. From the bountiful summer to the dryer, more colorful fall, this change is to be appreciated. He also uses repetition several times in these lines to note the presence of metaphorical smoke. | In the other gardens And all up the vale, From the autumn bonfires See the smoke trail! Pleasant summer over And all the summer flowers, The red fire blazes, The grey smoke towers. Sing a song of seasons! Something bright in all! Flowers in the summer, Fires in the fall! | https://www.yourdailypoem.com/listpoem.jsp?poem_id=1281 | 38 | A poem about celebrating the fiery colors of autumn leaves burning across the landscape like a raging wildfire. |
| In The Bazaars of Hyderabad by Sarojini Naidu | Sarojini Naidu | 'In The Bazaars of Hyderabad' by Sarojini Naidu describes in vibrant detail the market stalls and products of the Hyderabad bazaars. The poem begins with the speaker, a customer, asking a vendor what he is selling. This person gives him details regarding the turbans, rich mirrors, and daggers, as well as beautifully stitched tunics he has for sale. The text progresses quickly to the next stall where the same, or possibly a new, customer inquiries about the “lentils, rice” and spices being sold. Again, they receive an appealing description of the items. In the third stanza, the speaker becomes interested in what the “goldsmith” is making. This stanza is more in-depth as the goldsmith focuses on three different ways he treats gold. He is seeking to show off his products and his skill. He can hammer something thin enough for the leg of a pigeon, or forge something sturdy enough for a king. In the fourth stanza, the speaker inquires about three different types of instruments and fruits. These products almost all originate from the Indian subcontinent and are added into the piece in order to further praise the Indian culture. The final stanza describes in greater detail than any of the previous stanzas what the materials for sale are going to be used for. In this section, the speaker asks “flower-girls” what they are weaving. They respond by describing the creation of a crown for a bridegroom and a shroud for someone recently deceased. Explore more Sarojini Naidu poems. | What do you sell O ye merchants ? Richly your wares are displayed. Turbans of crimson and silver, Tunics of purple brocade, Mirrors with panels of amber, Daggers with handles of jade. What do you weigh, O ye vendors? Saffron and lentil and rice. What do you grind, O ye maidens? Sandalwood, henna, and spice. What do you call , O ye pedlars? Chessmen and ivory dice. What do you make,O ye goldsmiths? Wristlet and anklet and ring, Bells for the feet of blue pigeons Frail as a dragon-fly’s wing, Girdles of gold for dancers, Scabbards of gold for the king. What do you cry,O ye fruitmen? Citron, pomegranate, and plum. What do you play ,O musicians? Cithar, sarangi and drum. what do you chant, O magicians? Spells for aeons to come. What do you weave, O ye flower-girls With tassels of azure and red? Crowns for the brow of a bridegroom, Chaplets to garland his bed. Sheets of white blossoms new-garnered To perfume the sleep of the dead. | https://allpoetry.com/In-The-Bazaars-of-Hyderabad | 139 | A poem about celebrating the vibrant sights and products of Hyderabad's bazaars, moving from stall to stall where vendors are selling, crafting, and weaving goods that span the full breadth of human life from wedding celebrations to death. |
| This Moment by Eavan Boland | Eavan Boland | 'This Moment' by Eavan Boland is a short poem that captures a snapshot of dusk in a neighbourhood positioned exactly between day and night. The poem begins with the speaker giving the reader a few simple comments about the setting. These provide the backbone to 'This Moment'. She also references things that are about to come but aren't happening yet. Soon, there will be stars in the sky and moths flying in the air. Now though, it is still dusk. There's light on some of the trees and a mother and her child are still outdoors. 'This Moment' concludes with the speaker alluding to the peaceful onset of night. All the things she said would happen are happening. | A neighbourhood. At dusk. Things are getting ready to happen out of sight. Stars and moths. And rinds slanting around fruit. But not yet. One tree is black. One window is yellow as butter. A woman leans down to catch a child who has run into her arms this moment. Stars rise. Moths flutter. Apples sweeten in the dark. | https://www.loc.gov/programs/poetry-and-literature/poet-laureate/poet-laureate-projects/poetry-180/all-poems/item/poetry-180-138/this-moment/ | 43 | "A poem about capturing a neighbourhood transitioning from dusk to night, where a mother and child linger outdoors as stars appear and moths begin to fly." |
| My First Christmas in Heaven | Christmas Songs | 'My First Christmas in Heaven' is a simple, religious poem that addresses God, the Christmas season, and the importance of love. The speaker talks directly to those they left behind. They describe their first Christmas in Heaven and how much better it is than Christmas on earth. The speaker also asks those listening to not mourn their loss but celebrate the happy new world that the speaker has moved on to. At the end of the poem, the speaker tells the listeners that they are sending their love down to earth. | I see the countless Christmas trees around the world below With tiny lights, like Heaven's stars, reflecting on the snow The sight is so spectacular, please wipe away the tear For I am spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year. I hear the many Christmas songs that people hold so dear But the sounds of music can't compare with the Christmas choir up here. I have no words to tell you, the joy their voices bring, For it is beyond description, to hear the angels sing. I know how much you miss me, I see the pain inside your heart. But I am not so far away, We really aren't apart. So be happy for me, dear ones, You know I hold you dear. And be glad I'm spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year. I sent you each a special gift, from my heavenly home above. I sent you each a memory of my undying love. After all, love is a gift more precious than pure gold. It was always most important in the stories Jesus told. Please love and keep each other, as my Father said to do. For I can't count the blessing or love He has for each of you. So have a Merry Christmas and wipe away that tear. Remember, I am spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year. | https://www.poemofquotes.com/articles/my-first-christmas-in-heaven.php | 184 | A poem about a departed soul celebrating their first Christmas in Heaven, asking loved ones to rejoice rather than mourn while sending their love back down to earth. |
| The Best Thing in the World by Elizabeth Barrett Browning | Elizabeth Barrett Browning | 'The Best Thing in the World' by Elizabeth Barrett Browning describes a speaker's opinion on what the most valuable things in the world are. The poem begins with the speaker asking the reader what they think the “best thing in the world” is. It is clear from the next lines that the speaker has an answer and she's ready to provide it. She goes on to list out a number of features, experiences, and forces of the world she loves the most. All of these, from natural beauty to the south wind and harmless truth, are united by their intangibility. The last lines summarize the fact that the best parts of the world are things that humanity cannot physically grasp on to. | WHAT’S the best thing in the world? June-rose by May-dew impearled; Sweet south-wind, that means no rain; Truth, not cruel to a friend; Pleasure, not in haste to end; Beauty, not self-decked and curled Till its pride is over-plain; Light, that never makes you wink; Memory, that gives no pain; Love, when so you’re loved again. What’s the best thing in the world?— Something out of it, I think. | https://www.bartleby.com/lit-hub/library/poem/the-best-thing-in-the-world/ | 57 | A poem about a speaker exploring what the most valuable things in the world are, listing intangible forces and experiences such as natural beauty and harmless truth, ultimately concluding that the best things in life are those which humanity cannot physically grasp. |
| We Alone by Alice Walker | Alice Walker | In this famous poem, We Alone, based on humanity, love, and money, Alice Walker reveals the power within each human heart, and the power we have together when united in purpose. She begins We Alone with a strong statement and one that makes the reader stop and ponders the power of the human race. With these lines of We Alone, the speaker communicates to the reader that these musings are a possibility if only everyone would agree to act. The speaker claims that it “could be our revolution” to end the struggle for money and power and begin to value moments of connections with nature and other human beings. The speaker finally expresses a final thought on all that humankind values. She reveals that the revolution could finally happen when people would learn “to love what is plentiful as much as what is scarce”. Thus the speaker presents the idea that human love is what is behind the way the world works. Because we love power and material wealth, we place value on what is rare. However, if we could together agree to love all that nature has to offer, whether scarce or plentiful, we would surely enjoy a more thorough life. Although the reality of this kind of shift taking place is nearly impossible, the words do cause the reader to venture into self reflection and to ponder what true value is. The reader is moved to question his own motives and values as they determine the course of his life. | We alone can devalue gold by not caring if it falls or rises in the marketplace. Wherever there is gold there is a chain, you know, and if your chain is gold so much the worse for you. Feathers, shells and sea-shaped stones are all as rare. This could be our revolution: to love what is plentiful as much as what's scarce. | chrome-extension://efaidnbmnnnibpcajpcglclefindmkaj/https://nprcarmenia.files.wordpress.com/2015/12/we-alone.pdf | 61 | A poem about humanity questioning its obsession with power and material wealth, imagining a revolution in which people are learning to value love, nature, and human connection over what is rare and scarce. |
| Landscape with the Fall of Icarus by William Carlos Williams | William Carlos Williams | 'Landscape with the Fall of Icarus' by William Carlos Williams gives the reader a humanly dark description of a painting by Pieter Brueghel. The poem being with the speaker stating that it was spring in which Icarus fell. The season is depicted by Pieter Brueghel through the trees, the ploughing farmer, and the color choices. Williams takes the season and plays with the “pageantry” of everything associated with it. There are people working, all to the benefit of themselves. In the next lines, he draws a reader's attention to another part of the scene. The young man, Icarus, has flown too close to the sun and is now drowning in the bay. Although this is clearly a tragedy for his father, and for the man himself, no one notices. This is why in the final lines Williams refers to the death as “unsignificant.” | According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field the whole pageantry of the year was awake tingling near the edge of the sea concerned with itself sweating in the sun that melted the wings' wax unsignificantly off the coast there was a splash quite unnoticed this was Icarus drowning | https://poets.org/poem/landscape-fall-icarus | 35 | A poem about depicting the tragic and unnoticed drowning of Icarus during a vibrant spring season, while the world continues working indifferently around him. |
| Amulet by Ted Hughes | Ted Hughes | The poem “Amulet” is full of cues that predominantly appeal to one's sight. Starting from the inside of the wolf's fang which is purple as heather. The inside of the heather looks like the wolf's fur. The inside of the wolf's fur is reminiscent of the old and grotesque forest resembling the wolf's foot. Its foot, in turn, calls for a comparison to the stony horizon (marks the path of the wolf that it has to tread along until it chances upon its prey in a doe), for the wolf's foot is as hard as stone (Thanks to the long walks!). The stony horizon besides looking like the foot also looks like the tongue of the wolf. Its tongue is as hard as stone (this is one hungry wolf!). The wolf's tongue salivating looks much like the doe's tears. And the doe's tears are hard like the frozen swamp (wolf sure won't fall for tears and won't give up on treating itself to a doe dinner!). The frozen swamp, suggestive of the wolf's inconsiderate and cold attitude, has in it the doe's tears. The blood only next to the attitude of the wolf is chilled. It is chilled by the snow wind as the wolf marches through its habitat for food. As its walk progresses, the wolf looks at the North star hoping it would guide him to his next prey. As he looks at the star one could see his eyes gleam like the star. It may be just a reflection of the star on the eyes of the wolf or it could be the passion of the wolf accelerated by its appetite. Like the wolf's eye reflects the North star, the star has inside it, the wolf's fang. | Inside the wolf’s fang, the mountain of heather. Inside the mountain of heather, the wolf’s fur. Inside the wolf’s fur, the ragged forest. Inside the ragged forest, the wolf’s foot. Inside the wolf’s foot, the stony horizon. Inside the stony horizon, the wolf’s tongue. Inside the wolf’s tongue, the doe’s tears. Inside the doe’s tears, the frozen swap. Inside the frozen swamp, the wolf’s blood. Inside the wolf’s blood, the snow wind. Inside the snow wind, the wolf’s eye. Inside the wolf’s eye, the North star. Inside the North star, the wolf’s fang. | https://acupofpoetry.tumblr.com/post/52312456936/amulet-by-ted-hughes | 80 | A poem about a wolf hunting its prey through a wintry landscape, with its fang, fur, foot, tongue, and eyes reflecting and echoing the natural world around it in an endless cycle of interconnected images. |
| The Sacred by Stephen Dunn | Stephen Dunn | The Sacred' by Stephen Dunn describes a conversation in a classroom and the idea of a car as a place of spiritual peace. The speaker takes the reader through the simple elements of a discussion about sacred places. The best example that a student in this discussion could come up with was a car. In it, one can insert the key, worship at the altar-dashboard, and put themselves in motion to go wherever they want to. This depiction of the car felt truthful to all those in the room and no one could fault it. | After the teacher asked if anyone had a sacred place and the students fidgeted and shrank in their chairs, the most serious of them all said it was his car, being in it alone, his tape deck playing things he’d chosen, and others knew the truth had been spoken and began speaking about their rooms, their hiding places, but the car kept coming up, the car in motion, music filling it, and sometimes one other person who understood the bright altar of the dashboard and how far away a car could take him from the need to speak, or to answer, the key in having a key and putting it in, and going. | https://rolfpotts.com/sacred-stephen-dunn/ | 95 | "A poem about a student discovering the sacred in the simple freedom of a car, finding spiritual peace in its dashboard altar and the open road." |
| Richard Cory by Edwin Arlington Robinson | Edwin Arlington Robinson | ‘Richard Cory’ is a poem that shows why we should not judge people on appearances as it subverts our expectations in the final line. Regarding the structure and form, the poem is written in four quatrains written in iambic pentameter with a simple ABAB rhyme scheme. The language is straightforward though quietly stirring. The fact that the rhythm and rhyme are so consistent throughout makes the revelation at the end of stanza four all the more shocking. There is almost a conversational tone to the poem. The frequent use of ‘and’ adds to this effect, loading detail upon detail as the speaker tells the sorry tale of Richard Cory. | Whenever Richard Cory went down town, We people on the pavement looked at him: He was a gentleman from sole to crown, Clean favored and imperially slim. And he was always quietly arrayed, And he was always human when he talked, But still he fluttered pulses when he said, "Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked. And he was rich--yes, richer than a king-- And admirably schooled in every grace: In fine, we thought that he was everything To make us wish that we were in his place. So on we worked, and waited for the light, And went without the meat and cursed the bread; And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, Went home and put a bullet through his head. This poem is in the public domain. | https://poets.org/poem/richard-cory | 112 | "A poem about judging people on appearances, loading detail upon detail in a conversational tone before subverting expectations with a shocking revelation." |
| Breakfast by Jacques Prévert | Jacques Prévert | 'Breakfast' by Jacques Prévert is a thoughtful and direct poem that describes a speaker's reactions to an unknown man's coffee, cigarette, and departure. The speaker uses the first part of the poem to describe, step by step, the way a man prepares and drinks his coffee. The lines are quite direct and without emotion. As the poem progresses, the speaker moves on to describe how the man smokes, gets his hat and jacket on, and goes out into the rain. All this occurs without the man speaking to or looking at the speaker. This is something that troubles the speaker and leaves them in tears at the end of the poem. | He poured the coffee Into the cup He put the milk Into the cup of coffee He put the sugar Into the coffee with milk With a small spoon He churned He drank the coffee And he put down the cup Without any word to me He emptied the coffee with milk And he put down the cup Without any word to me He lighted One cigarette He made circles With the smoke He shook off the ash Into the ashtray Without any word to me Without any look at me He got up He put on A hat on his head He put on A raincoat Because it was raining And he left Into the rain Without any word to me Without any look at me And I buried My face in my hands And I cried | https://hellopoetry.com/poem/15459/breakfast/ | 103 | A poem about a speaker watching a man silently drinking coffee, smoking, and departing into the rain without speaking or looking at them, leaving the speaker in tears. |
| How to Eat a Poem by Eve Merriam | Eve Merriam | In 'How to Eat a Poem', Merriam uses eating fruit as a metaphor for reading poetry, encouraging the reader to bite in without hesitation and enjoy it. The poet wrote this poem primarily for children. By likening poetry to fruit, Merriam is saying we can enjoy poetry just as we enjoy sweet fruit. Therefore, it is a poem that encourages the reading of poetry. Yes, bite in. Let the words fill your mouth. 'How to Eat a Poem' sets out to inspire people to read poetry, comparing it to delicious, juicy fruit. Therefore, Merriam wants to foster an appreciation for poetry, especially speaking the words aloud as we read. | Don't be polite. Bite in. Pick it up with your fingers and lick the juice that may run down your chin. It is ready and ripe now, whenever you are. You do not need a knife or fork or spoon or plate or napkin or tablecloth. For there is no core or stem or rind or pit or seed or skin to throw away. | http://www.tnellen.com/cybereng/poetry/eatpoem.html | 50 | A poem about encouraging readers to bite into poetry without hesitation, savoring the words like sweet, juicy fruit filling their mouths. |
| Question by May Swenson | May Swenson | 'Question' by May Swenson anticipates the soul's future wanderings in its bodiless journey. This poem begins with a reference to three distinct things. The first one is a house, the second one is a horse, and the last one is a hound. All these references are compared to the speaker's body. She broods where her soul could sleep, or how it could ride, or hunt without the help of the body. In the last few lines, she asks whether she could hide her soul without her bodily house. | Body my house my horse my hound what will I do when you are fallen Where will I sleep How will I ride What will I hunt Where can I go without my mount all eager and quick How will I know in thicket ahead is danger or treasure when Body my good bright dog is dead How will it be to lie in the sky without roof or door and wind for an eye With cloud for shift how will I hide? | https://www.loc.gov/programs/poetry-and-literature/poet-laureate/poet-laureate-projects/poetry-180/all-poems/item/poetry-180-004/question/ | 62 | A poem about a soul wondering how it will sleep, ride, and hunt as it wanders on a bodiless journey without its bodily house. |
| Killers by Carl Sandburg | Carl Sandburg | Killers' by Carl Sandburg describes and decries the role of sixteen million, idealized men chosen to fight, kill, and die for a cause. The poem begins with the speaker asking that his listener pay attention to the “song” he is about to share. This simply refers to the text of the poem which is about to follow. The speaker states that his words are going to depict a world that is deeply depressing, angry, and restricting.He is going to be telling the story of men who were selected for their strength and sent to kill and die on the battlefield. Their “young” blood flowed into the earth as they caused the deaths of others. It quickly becomes clear the speaker does not agree with war, or at least this particular conflict. That being said, he still realizes the men had homes and families. They once had dreams and “games.” In the final lines, he explains that the men remain in his memory because he too was there. He still remembers the trenches, the smells, and the sounds that meant men were about to die or had already. | I AM singing to you Soft as a man with a dead child speaks; Hard as a man in handcuffs, Held where he cannot move: Under the sun Are sixteen million men, Chosen for shining teeth, Sharp eyes, hard legs, And a running of young warm blood in their wrists. And a red juice runs on the green grass; And a red juice soaks the dark soil. And the sixteen million are killing. . . and killing and killing. I never forget them day or night: They beat on my head for memory of them; They pound on my heart and I cry back to them, To their homes and women, dreams and games. I wake in the night and smell the trenches, And hear the low stir of sleepers in lines-- Sixteen million sleepers and pickets in the dark: Some of them long sleepers for always, Some of them tumbling to sleep to-morrow for always, Fixed in the drag of the world's heartbreak, Eating and drinking, toiling. . . on a long job of killing. Sixteen million men. | http://carl-sandburg.com/killers.htm | 153 | A poem about idealizing sixteen million young men chosen to fight, kill, and die on the battlefield, their blood flowing into the earth as the speaker is remembering the trenches, smells, and sounds of war. |
| The Secret Heart by Robert Coffin | Robert Coffin | 'The Secret Heart' by Robert Coffin is a narration of a man's fondest childhood memory of his father. In the poem, an invisible narrator tells of a man reminiscing about his childhood. As he slept as a boy, his father checked on him by the light of a match. The boy awoke to witness this tender moment. With the lit match in cupped hands, the glow projected the shape of a heart on his father's chest. This projection represented the love the father held for the child, a love this nightly action gave expression to. | Across the years he could recall His father one way best of all. In the stillest hour of night The boy awakened to a light. Half in dreams, he saw his sire With his great hands full of fire. The man had struck a match to see If his son slept peacefully. He held his palms each side the spark His love had kindled in the dark. His two hands were curved apart In the semblance of a heart. He wore, it seemed to his small son, A bare heart on his hidden one, A heart that gave out such a glow No son awake could bear to know. It showed a look upon a face Too tender for the day to trace. One instant, it lit all about, And then the secret heart went out. But it shone long enough for one To know that hands held up the sun. | https://allpoetry.com/The-Secret-Heart | 129 | "A poem about a boy awakening in the night to witness his father's secret love being revealed through the glowing shape of a heart projected from a cupped match onto his chest." |
| A Marriage by R. S. Thomas | Ronald Stuart Thomas | A Marriage by R. S. Thomas focuses on love and how love can endure over decades of life. Yet, at some point in everyone's life, death will come and end all human connections. It is this moment of death that Thomas focuses on within the poem, depicting Death as a device that finally ends his lifelong relationship. Time passes incredibly quickly in the poem, suggesting that even with all the time they have spent together, it still seems too short for Thomas, wanting more time with his lover. | We met under a shower of bird-notes. Fifty years passed, love's moment in a world in servitude to time. She was young; I kissed with my eyes closed and opened them on her wrinkles. 'Come,' said death, choosing her as his partner for the last dance, And she, who in life had done everything with a bird's grace, opened her bill now for the shedding of one sigh no heavier than a feather. | https://hellopoetry.com/poem/70306/a-marriage/ | 51 | A poem about a love enduring over decades of life, yet ultimately being severed by death, while time passes so quickly that even a lifetime spent together feels too short. |
| Who’s for the Game? by Jessie Pope | Jessie Pope | Who's for the Game?' by Jessie Pope is a direct poem in which the speaker encourages men to join the military and fight in WWI. The speaker directly addresses the young men of her country, trying to goad them into showing their strength and bravery by joining the armed forces. She refers to war as a “game,” one that's important for them to participate in and see if they can win. | Who’s for the game, the biggest that’s played, The red crashing game of a fight? Who’ll grip and tackle the job unafraid? And who thinks he’d rather sit tight? Who’ll toe the line for the signal to ‘Go!’? Who’ll give his country a hand? Who wants a turn to himself in the show? And who wants a seat in the stand? Who knows it won’t be a picnic – not much- Yet eagerly shoulders a gun? Who would much rather come back with a crutch Than lie low and be out of the fun? Come along, lads – But you’ll come on all right – For there’s only one course to pursue, Your country is up to her neck in a fight, And she’s looking and calling for you. | https://allpoetry.com/Who's-for-the-Game- | 112 | "A poem about young men being goaded into showing their bravery by joining the military and fighting in a war being referred to as a 'game'." |
| spring again by Jesús Papoleto Meléndez | Jesús Papoleto Meléndez | spring again focuses on the Spring season of one year, with the characters in the poem filling time while waiting for Summer to come. It at once stresses how slow time passes, and how quickly the seasons can change. This focus on the progression of time demonstrates that although some moments are slow and some are fast, time never stops moving. The poem interacts with characters from the city, focusing on activities that the 'junkies' and 'ghetto musicians' do to pass the time within spring. For a poem which is addressing Spring, there is very little imagery of nature, instead of focusing more on the city and its occupants. There is certain melancholia within the poem, the people described being unable to change or escape their circumstances, stuck in a cycle of waiting for the next season forever. | spring came / the same way winter left & summer will come & summer will leave; slowly / when no one's expecting it when people are tired of waiting like waiting for welfare checks / a long wait/ a slow wait the windows are open but butterflies don't fly in to display a sense of love / only housefly enter to sit on food & eat crumbs & dreams escape / & become stolen & lost & used & wasted & thrown away & dreamed anew the junkies sit on the stoop & nod themselves into dreams / maybe into the ones which escaped & stickball is played & on warm nights the ghetto musicians play our ghetto song on garbage can tops & bang on empty coke bottles & sound real chévere :tomorrow the junkies will sit on the stoop & nod themselves into dreams / stickball will be played / the streets will become chalked with 1st and 2nd & 3rd bases hop scotch will become a game & tops will spin on sidewalks / & everyone will anticipate summer. | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/56796/spring-again | 148 | "A poem about city dwellers — junkies and ghetto musicians — passing time in Spring, caught in a melancholic cycle of waiting for the next season as time moves slowly yet inevitably forward." |
| Vultures by Chinua Achebe | Chinua Achebe | 'Vultures' by Chinua Achebe describes the vultures in such a disparaging and grim fashion that could be construed as a metaphor for the people responsible for the atrocities in Belsen and in particular the “Commandant”. The first stanza is the longest part of the poem and it is not a coincidence. It is a metaphor for the commandant's predominant personality traits and this is why it dominates so much of the poem's content. In the third stanza, the scene with his child represents a far smaller portion of the poem and this is a metaphor for his spark of humanity. The form of this piece is very clever as it creates a grim image, creates a glimmer of hope in the second and third stanzas, and then ends on a dour note emphasizing the futility of the situation. | In the greyness and drizzle of one despondent dawn unstirred by harbingers of sunbreak a vulture perching high on broken bone of a dead tree nestled close to his mate his smooth bashed-in head, a pebble on a stem rooted in a dump of gross feathers, inclined affectionately to hers. Yesterday they picked the eyes of a swollen corpse in a water-logged trench and ate the things in its bowel. Full gorged they chose their roost keeping the hollowed remnant in easy range of cold telescopic eyes ... Strange indeed how love in other ways so particular will pick a corner in that charnel-house tidy it and coil up there, perhaps even fall asleep - her face turned to the wall! ...Thus the Commandant at Belsen Camp going home for the day with fumes of human roast clinging rebelliously to his hairy nostrils will stop at the wayside sweet-shop and pick up a chocolate for his tender offspring waiting at home for Daddy's return ... Praise bounteous providence if you will that grants even an ogre a tiny glow-worm tenderness encapsulated in icy caverns of a cruel heart or else despair for in every germ of that kindred love is lodged the perpetuity of evil. | https://genius.com/Chinua-achebe-vultures-annotated | 156 | A poem about vultures serving as a metaphor for human atrocity, juxtaposing grim darkness with a fleeting glimmer of humanity before descending into futility. |
| The Sick Rose by William Blake | William Blake | ‘The Sick Rose’ by William Blake describes the loss of a woman’s virginity through the metaphor of a rose and an invisible worm. The poem begins with the speaker telling the rose that she is sick. This sickness is caused by the “invisible worm.” The phallic-shaped worm comes to the rose at night in the middle of “the howling storm.” There is a real sense of danger and dread in these lines that only builds as the poem progresses and Blake makes use of enjambment. In the second stanza of ‘The Sick Rose,’ the worm finds the rose’s bed. The rose is afflicted with the worm’s “dark secret love” and has its life destroyed. The worm, which clearly represents a phallus, kills the rose—the woman’s, virginity. | O Rose thou art sick. The invisible worm, That flies in the night In the howling storm: Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy: And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy. | https://poemanalysis.com/william-blake/the-sick-rose/ | 26 | A poem about an invisible worm destroying a rose through dark secret love, representing the loss of a woman's virginity. |
| After Auschwitz by Anne Sexton | Anne Sexton | ‘After Auschwitz’ is six stanzas long with stanzas numbering 8, 2, 8, 2, 12, 1 and there is no rhyme scheme. The poem is a reaction piece, written by a speaker that is filled with anger over the atrocities committed by the Nazis, and more specifically man, during the holocaust. She speaks about her anger, and how it fills her daily; that death does not care about what’s happening and does not take those who really deserve it. She spends the rest of the poem passing judgment on these men, deciding that they should no longer be worshiped like “temples” or have any agency in their own lives, all in an attempt to stop something like this from happening again. The speaker ends the poem by hoping that God has not heard all she has said allowed, perhaps fearing she is becoming like the men she condemns. | Anger, as black as a hook, overtakes me. Each day, each Nazi took, at 8:00 A.M., a baby and sauteed him for breakfast in his frying pan. And death looks on with a casual eye and picks at the dirt under his fingernail. Man is evil, I say aloud. Man is a flower that should be burnt, I say aloud. Man is a bird full of mud, I say aloud. And death looks on with a casual eye and scratches his anus. Man with his small pink toes, with his miraculous fingers is not a temple but an outhouse, I say aloud. Let man never again raise his teacup. Let man never again write a book. Let man never again put on his shoe. Let man never again raise his eyes, on a soft July night. Never. Never. Never. Never. Never. I say those things aloud. | https://allpoetry.com/After-Auschwitz | 114 | "A poem about a speaker filled with anger over the atrocities of the holocaust, passing judgment on those responsible while fearing that her own rage and condemnation may be transforming her into the very thing she is speaking against." |
| Tell Me a Story by Robert Penn Warren | Robert Penn Warren | 'Tell Me a Story' by Robert Penn Warren describes how the speaker distances himself from the modern world as it left nothing for a person like him. This poem is divided into two parts. In the first part, the speaker shares one of his childhood memories. One day, he was in his native place in Kentucky. There he stood by a road in utter darkness. The sky was dark due to the absence of the moon as well as the stars. He only heard the sound of geese migrating northwards. In the next part, the speaker asks readers to tell him a story. Before they can start, he defines what should be the theme of the tale. It must encompass the theme of distances. In modernity, there is nothing left to be talked about. That's why he tells them to share a story that can rejuvenate his weary mind. It should be a story of delight, not filled with the ravages of modern time. | [ A ] Long ago, in Kentucky, I, a boy, stood By a dirt road, in first dark, and heard The great geese hoot northward. I could not see them, there being no moon And the stars sparse. I heard them. I did not know what was happening in my heart. It was the season before the elderberry blooms, Therefore they were going north. The sound was passing northward. [ B ] Tell me a story. In this century, and moment, of mania, Tell me a story. Make it a story of great distances, and starlight. The name of the story will be Time, But you must not pronounce its name. Tell me a story of deep delight. | https://poets.org/poem/tell-me-story | 101 | "A poem about a speaker distancing himself from the modern world, seeking a story of delight and rejuvenation that encompasses themes of distance, contrasting with his memories of darkness and the sounds of migrating geese in his native childhood place." |
| Cargoes by John Masefield | John Masefield | 'Cargoes' by John Masefield is an interesting poem about the history of cargo ships and the cargo that they transported. In the first stanza, the poet explores ancient ships and ports from the Bible and the various items they could've been transported from Ophir. These include apes, peacocks, and sandalwood. The second stanza brings in a Spanish galleon and the gemstones this particular type of ship would've carried. These two different periods in history are juxtaposed with one another as well as with the final. The poet describes a more contemporary, dirty, British ship that carries coal and cheap, uninteresting items. | Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir, Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine, With a cargo of ivory, And apes and peacocks, Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine. Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus, Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores, With a cargo of diamonds, Emeralds, amethysts, Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores. Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack, Butting through the Channel in the mad March days, With a cargo of Tyne coal, Road-rails, pig-lead, Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays | https://web.cs.dal.ca/~johnston/poetry/cargoes.html | 72 | "A poem about contrasting the grandeur of ancient and exotic cargo ships with the grim reality of a dirty, contemporary British vessel carrying coal and cheap goods." |
| Relic by Ted Hughes | Ted Hughes | 'Relic' by Ted Hughes presents the “jawbone” as a relic of the sea. In the end, the poet constructs a metaphorical “cenotaph” with it. 'Relic' by Ted Hughes revolves around the “jawbone” that the poetic persona has found from the seashore. After gripping it in his hand, he looks around and comes across “crabs” and “dogfish” lying dead on the shore. The scene depicts the cruelty of the sea that topples lives. In the second stanza, the poet thinks about the jaw that he is holding. The jaw was active at a time but now it's of no use. Here on the shore, it lies with shells, skulls, claws, and other useless things. In the last stanza, referring to the cruelty of the sea again the poet, at last, portrays that the jawbone in his hand “is now cenotaph”. As the poet writes about it and makes this useless piece of bone a lifetime existence in his poem. | I found this jawbone at the sea's edge: There, crabs, dogfish, broken by the breakers or tossed To flap for half an hour and turn to a crust Continue the beginning. The deeps are cold: In that darkness camaraderie does not hold. Nothing touches but, clutching, devours. And the jaws, Before they are satisfied or their stretched purpose Slacken, go down jaws; go gnawn bare. Jaws Eat and are finished and the jawbone comes to the beach: This is the sea's achievement; with shells, Verterbrae, claws, carapaces, skulls. Time in the sea eats its tail, thrives, casts these Indigestibles, the spars of purposes That failed far from the surface. None grow rich In the sea. This curved jawbone did not laugh But gripped, gripped and is now a cenotaph. | https://allpoetry.com/poem/8495331-Relic-by-Ted-Hughes | 113 | A poem about finding a jawbone on a seashore and witnessing the cruelty of the sea, transforming a useless relic into a lasting cenotaph. |
| what if a much of a which of a wind by E.E. cummings | E.E. Cummings | 'what if a much of a which of a wind' by E.E. Cummings speaks on the destruction of the earth and the risk humankind poses to itself. The poem takes the reader through a series of three disasters. The first two are related to naturally occurring events, a tornado, and a blizzard. In the third stanza, the speaker introduces the reader to a human-made disaster that alludes to a nuclear apocalypse. Only humanity, the speaker asserts, is capable of produces a disaster from which there is no return. | what if a much of a which of a wind gives truth to the summer's lie; bloodies with dizzying leaves the sun and yanks immortal stars awry? Blow king to beggar and queen to seem (blow friend to fiend:blow space to time) —when skies are hanged and oceans drowned, the single secret will still be man what if a keen of a lean wind flays screaming hills with sleet and snow: strangles valleys by ropes of thing and stifles forests in white ago? Blow hope to terror;blow seeing to blind (blow pity to envy and soul to mind) —whose hearts are mountains, roots are trees, it's they shall cry hello to the spring what if a dawn of a doom of a dream bites this universe in two, peels forever out of his grave and sprinkles nowhere with me and you? Blow soon to never and never to twice (blow life to isn't: blow death to was) —all nothing's only our hugest home; the most who die,the more we live | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/153876/what-if-a-much-of-a-which-of-a-wind | 147 | "A poem about the earth being destroyed by natural disasters and humanity's unique capacity for bringing about its own irreversible apocalypse." |
| I Saw From the Beach by Thomas Moore | Thomas Moore | 'I Saw From the Beach' by Thomas Moore addresses life's passions and compares them, through a metaphor, to the changing tides. The poet begins by describing a boat on the water. It moves with the tide, beautifully and powerfully at first (in the morning). Then, when the speaker comes back later, the water is gone and the boat is still there. The soul, as symbolized through the boat, remains, but the passion, symbolized through the water, is gone. This is an unstoppable change but one that the speaker wishes the reverse anyway. He pleads to feel something of the passion of youth/morning again. | I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining, A bark o'er the waters move gloriously on; I came when the sun o'er that beach was declining, The bark was still there, but the waters were gone. And such is the fate of our life's early promise, So passing the spring-tide of joy we have known; Each wave that we danced on at morning ebbs from us, And leaves us, at eve, on the bleak shore alone. Oh, who would not welcome that moment's returning When passion first waked a new life through his frame, And his soul, like the wood that grows precious in burning, Gave out all its sweets to love's exquisite flame. | poemhunter.com/poem/i-saw-from-the-beach/ | 104 | A poem about the soul remaining while the passions of youth fade away like the changing tides, with the speaker pleading to feel that passionate morning tide once more. |
| At the Parrot House, Taronga Park by Vivian Smith | Vivian Smith | 'At the Parrot House, Taronga Park' by Vivian Smith depicts birds and their interactions. The speaker begins the text by trying to convey how beautiful the birds in the parrot house are. It's hard for him to find the right images to describe their colors and what they make him think of. There is an interesting transition in the middle of the poem when the speaker moves from admiring the parrots to using personification to describe them. The poet uses human-specific interactions and emotions to describe the parrots in less than complimentary detail. The poem concludes with the poet noting that although the parrots looked beautiful, many negative things were going on. | What images could yet suggest their range of tender colours, thick as old brocade, or shot silk or flowers on a dress where black and rose and lime seem to caress the red that starts to shimmer as they fade? Like something half-remembered from a dream they come from places we have never seen. They chatter and they squawk and sometimes scream. Here the macaw clings at the rings to show the young galahs talking as they feed with feathers soft and pink as dawn on snow that it too has a dry and dusky tongue. Their murmuring embraces every need from languid vanity to wildest greed. In the far corner sit two smoky crones their heads together in a kind of love. One cleans the other’s feathers while it moans. The others seem to whisper behind fans while noble dandies gamble in a room asserting values everyone rejects. A lidded eye observes, and it reflects. The peacocks still pretend they own the yard. For all the softness, how the beaks are hard. | https://poemanalysis.com/vivian-smith/at-the-parrot-house-taronga-park/ | 150 | A poem about admiring the beautiful colors of parrots while discovering the negative interactions and emotions lurking beneath their stunning appearance. |
| I Say unto Waris Shah by Amrita Pritam | Amrita Pritam | Waris Shah Amrita Pritam in her 'I Say unto Waris Shah', depicts the effects of partition in Punjab and portrays the bloody chapters of the territorial division of India. The poetess is in a state of extreme sadness. She implores Waris Shah, her muse, to see what is happening in her beloved birthplace. Corpses are lying in the fields. Everything she sees has turned into red. The land of Heer–Ranjha is playing holi with human blood. The partition of India is the root cause of all those evils. Humanity is at stake. The message of love and purity of compassion is lost from Punjab. The poetess hopes that the people of Punjab will listen to her lamentation and stop this nonsensical bloodshed. | I say to Waris Shah today, speak from your grave And add a new page to your book of love Once one daughter of Punjab wept, and you wrote your long saga; Today thousands weep, calling to you Waris Shah: Arise, o friend of the afflicted; arise and see the state of Punjab, Corpses strewn on fields, and the Chenaab flowing with much blood. Someone filled the five rivers with poison, And this same water now irrigates our soil. Where was lost the flute, where the songs of love sounded? And all Ranjha's brothers forgotten to play the flute. Blood has rained on the soil, graves are oozing with blood, The princesses of love cry their hearts out in the graveyards. Today all the Quaido'ns have become the thieves of love and beauty, Where can we find another one like Waris Shah? Waris Shah! I say to you, speak from your grave And add a new page to your book of love. | https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-ask-waris-shah-today/ | 154 | "A poem about lamenting the bloody devastation and loss of love and humanity that partition is bringing upon the land of Punjab." |
| The Trashpickers, Madison Street by Naomi Shihab Nye | Naomi Shihab Nye | In 'The Trashpickers, Madison Street,' Naomi Shihab Nye describes a scene from the early morning when trash pickers murmur while picking rags and sort the things that could be used further. At the beginning of the poem, readers can visualize the trash pickers carefully picking up all the trash one by one, checking inside each trashcan, and talking with each other while listing the things they find. It is astounding that some people see things thought of as “trash” in a completely different light by others who pick up that castaway stuff. Old nails, old paper, crooked skillets, and more like objects find new importance having been picked up. Trash offers glimpses into someone's existence and simultaneously speaks a lot about the old owner. It also hints at the condition of the new owner who picks it up. Reading the last stanza, one can understand that the poem is not simply about trash pickers picking up trash. It has deeper layers where the poet observes the things well-off people leave behind, the lasting effect it has upon people and the earth, and how the poor people who pick up those trash stuff weave dreams around those rejected items. | On the edge of dawn’s pale eye, the trashpickers are lifting the lid of every can, poking inside with bent hanger and stick. They murmur in a language soft as rags. What have we here? Their colorless overcoats drift and grow wings. They pull a creaking wagon, tinfoil wads, knotted string, to the cave where sacraments of usefulness are performed. Kneel to the triple weddings of an old nail. Rejoice in the rebirth of envelopes. The crooked skillet finds its first kingdom on a shelf where nothing is new. They dream small dreams, furry ones, a swatch of velvet passed hand-to-hand. Their hearts are compasses fixed to the ground and their love, more like moss than like fire | http://tcsidewalks.blogspot.com/2012/02/sidewalk-poetry-20.html | 102 | "A poem about trash pickers murmuring and sorting through discarded items in the early morning, weaving dreams around rejected objects that offer glimpses into the lives of those who left them behind." |
| In and Out of Time by Maya Angelou | Maya Angelou | 'In and Out of Time' by Maya Angelou is a thoughtful poem about love, strife, and the dawn of a clearer future for two people. The speaker addresses a specific listener throughout this poem, someone who is likely their romantic partner. Or, at the very least, someone very close to them. They describe briefly the struggles that they went through to ensure that they created a future that was safe and clear for themselves and for their listener. The bulk of the poem is used to define the love between the two. It's a love that's existed since the beginning of time, the speaker says, and one that's going to last through any trials they might face. It's on this note that the poem ends. | The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have. You were always mine. We have loved each other in and out of time. When the first stone looked up at the blazing sun and the first tree struggled up from the forest floor I had always loved you more. You freed your braids... gave your hair to the breeze. It hummed like a hive of honey bees. I reached in the mass for the sweet honey comb there... Mmmm... God how I love your hair. You saw me bludgeoned by circumstance. Lost, injured, hurt by chance. I screamed to the heavens... loudly screamed... Trying to change our nightmares into dreams... The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance our long way home. I was always yours to have. You were always mine. We have loved each other in and out in and out in and out of time. | https://www.poeticous.com/maya-angelou/in-and-out-of-time | 139 | "A poem about two people defining their enduring love while navigating struggles and moving towards a clearer, safer future together." |
| The Vanity Of Wealth by Samuel Johnson | Samuel Johnson | The Vanity Of Wealth' by Samuel Johnson is a simple, yet impactful, poem that addresses what is important and unimportant in one's life. The poem is addressed to a specific listener who the speaker is trying to get through to in regards to what they value. Up until this point, money has been the controlling factor in their life and the speaker wants to change that. He emphasizes the inability of money to buy love and the impossibility to make a profit from selling friendship. The speaker encourages the listener to get out and enjoy life while they can because eventually, they will be too old to. | No more thus brooding o'er yon heap, With avarice painful vigils keep: Still unenjoy'd the present store, Still endless sighs are breathed for more. O! quit the shadow, catch the prize, Which not all India's treasure buys! To purchase with heaven has gold the power? Can gold remove the mortal hour? In life can love be bought with gold? Are friendship's pleasures to be sold? No! - all that's worth a wish - a thought, Fair virtue gives unbribed, unbought, Cease then on trash thy hopes to bind, Let noble views engage thy mind. With science tread the wondrous way, Or learn the Muses' moral lay; In social hours indulge thy soul, Where mirth and temperance mix the bowl; To virtuous love resign thy breast, And be, by blessing beauty, - bless'd. Thus taste the feast by Nature spread, Ere youth and all its joys are fled; Come taste with me the balm of life, Secure from pomp, and wealth, and strife. I boast whate'er for man was meant, In health, and Stella, and content; And scorn! (oh! let that scorn be thine!) Mere things of clay, that dig the mine. | https://allpoetry.com/The-Vanity-of-Wealth | 163 | A poem about questioning the value of wealth by emphasizing how money cannot buy love or friendship, and encouraging the enjoyment of life before old age takes hold. |
| Inspection by Wilfred Owen | Wilfred Owen | 'Inspection' takes place during a military parade. A private is singled out by Wilfred Owen, and a Sergeant, for having blood on his suit, although later he admits to Owen that the blood was his own. The poem begins directly with the conversation between a soldier and Owen's speaker. It seems he is the instructor of the parade. He is angry with a spot of blood on the soldier's uniform. Suddenly, the sergeant comes into the conversation and rebukes him for the misbehavior. The offender is confined in a camp as punishment. In the following stanzas, the poet features what the sergeant tells the speaker. He clarifies that blood is “dirt” to them. It hinders them from doing the main task they are entitled to do, which is spilling more blood. To do this task, they must be tidy enough, not bearing the stains of their past activities. Owen, pointing out that it is no excuse, is told by the soldier that the world itself doesn't like them being so alive, and that true justice will occur when they are all dead. | "You! What d'you mean by this?" I rapped. "You dare come on parade like this?" "Please, sir, it's -' ''Old yer mouth," the sergeant snapped. "I takes 'is name, sir?" - "Please, and then dismiss." Some days 'confined to camp' he got, For being 'dirty on parade'. He told me, afterwards, the damned spot Was blood, his own. "Well, blood is dirt," I said. "Blood's dirt," he laughed, looking away Far off to where his wound had bled And almost merged for ever into clay. "The world is washing out its stains," he said. "It doesn't like our cheeks so red: Young blood's its great objection. But when we're duly white-washed, being dead, The race will bear Field-Marshal God's inspection." | https://www.thepoetryhour.com/poems/inspection | 104 | "A poem about a soldier being reprimanded for having his own blood stain his uniform, exploring the bitter irony of an army demanding cleanliness while perpetually creating bloodshed, and a world that only accepts its soldiers once they are dead." |
| Apostate by Léonie Adams | Léonie Adams | 'Apostate' by Léonie Adams describes the freedom a speaker sees in the joyful stars and how she aches to live as they do. The poem begins with the speaker stating that she is watching the stars and marveling in their movements. They are not out of control as humanity is, but gracefully “throbbing” with “joy.” She sees this as an ideal way to live. In the following lines, she explains how the stars have been able to pierce the darkness of the sky and still shine out for all to see. They have a power that is not controlled or regulated by any other than themselves. In the final section, the speaker wishes that she could live as the stars do— without masks to hide behind or rules to follow. | From weariness I looked out on the stars And there beheld them, fixed in throbbing joy, Nor racked by such mad dance of moods as mars For us each moment’s grace with swift alloy. And as they pierced the heavens’ serene deep An envy of that one consummate part Swept me, who mock. Whether I laugh or weep, Some inner silences are at my heart. Cold shame is mine for all the masks I wear, Belying that in me which shines and sings Before Him, to face down man’s alien stare— A graceless puppet on unmeaning strings, I that looked out, and saw, and was at rest, Stars, and faint wings, rose-etched along the west. | https://poets.org/poem/apostate | 104 | A poem about a speaker marveling at the joyful freedom of the stars and aching to live as they do, unmasked and unbound by rules. |
| Dreams by Helen Hunt Jackson | Helen Hunt Jackson | ‘Dreams’ is a poem regarding how regretful memories of the past have a tendency to haunt us. Over a course of fourteen lines, Helen Hunt Jackson covers the negative effects that dreams have on our lives. She specifically targets how dreams often revive the sorrowful memories of our past and in a way, make us relive the event that we were trying desperately to forget. A driving point in her poem is that we will carry sadness with us until we die. The poem ‘Dreams’ is rich with imagery, and imagery is the strongest device Jackson uses to highlight the main point of her poem. Despite the fact that the poem is entitled Dreams, it does not focus on the general essence of dreams. Jackson explicitly only targets the negative effects that dreams often have when we are compelled to remember our past through them. Dreams are generally seen as positive, motivating tools that most people look forward to. Dreams are a synonym for goals and aspirations. However, in her poem, Jackson describes dreams as experiences that highlight depression and gloom. The title Dreams can be perceived as an oxymoron, because Jackson means for it to contradict itself. The entire poem can be seen as satirical in nature, because the content contrasts strongly with the selected title, almost in a mocking tone. | I dreamed that I ws dead and crossed the heavens,-- Heavens after heavens with burning feet and swift,-- And cried: "O God, where art Thou?" I left one On earth, whose burden I would pray Thee lift." I was so dead I wondered at no thing,-- Not even that the angels slowly turned Their faces, speechless, as I hurried by (Beneath my feet the golden pavements burned); Nor, at the first, that I could not find God, Because the heavens stretched endlessly like space. At last a terror siezed my very soul; I seemed alone in all the crowded place. Then, sudden, one compassionate cried out, Though like the rest his face from me he turned, As I were one no angel might regard (Beneath my feet the golden pavements burned): "No moew in heaven than earth will he find God Who does not know his loving mercy swift But waits the moment consummate and ripe, Each burden, from each human soul to lift." Though I was dead, I died again for shame; Lonely, to flee from heaven again I turned; The ranks of angels looked away from me (Beneath my feet the golden pavements burned) | poemhunter.com/poem/a-dream-5/ | 172 | A poem about how dreams are haunting us with regretful and sorrowful memories of the past, compelling us to relive the experiences we are desperately trying to forget. |
| [A] Talisman by Marianne Moore | Marianne Moore | 'Talisman' by Marianne Moore is a short, complex poem that speaks on a mysterious shipwreck the strange object found underneath it. The poem describes a grounded ship with its mast torn from its hull, as well as the shepherd who stumbled upon it. Under its wreckage, the shepherd found a strange seagull shaped jewel, a talisman with an unknown purpose. | Under a splintered mast, torn from ship and cast near her hull, a stumbling shepherd found embedded in the ground, a sea-gull of lapis lazuli, a scarab of the sea, with wings spread— curling its coral feet, parting its beak to greet men long dead. | https://poets.org/poem/talisman | 33 | "A poem about a shepherd discovering a mysterious seagull-shaped talisman beneath the wreckage of a grounded, broken ship." |
| And Death Shall Have No Dominion by Dylan Thomas | Dylan Thomas | And Death Shall Have No Dominion' is a magical look at the ways in which death controls mankind and the fact at even though it is powerful, it cannot control everything. Mankind has the power to stand up against any of the evils of death, and become unified through their moving to the next world. Death does not divide but brings together equally all those that lived apart. The second half of the poem focuses on brave and strong men standing up against the power of death and not breaking even through torture and the destruction of beautiful things. | And death shall have no dominion. Dead men naked they shall be one With the man in the wind and the west moon; When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone, They shall have stars at elbow and foot; Though they go mad they shall be sane, Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again; Though lovers be lost love shall not; And death shall have no dominion. And death shall have no dominion. Under the windings of the sea They lying long shall not die windily; Twisting on racks when sinews give way, Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break; Faith in their hands shall snap in two, And the unicorn evils run them through; Split all ends up they shan't crack; And death shall have no dominion. And death shall have no dominion. No more may gulls cry at their ears Or waves break loud on the seashores; Where blew a flower may a flower no more Lift its head to the blows of the rain; Though they be mad and dead as nails, Heads of the characters hammer through daisies; Break in the sun till the sun breaks down, And death shall have no dominion. | https://poets.org/poem/and-death-shall-have-no-dominion | 178 | "A poem about mankind standing up against the power of death, refusing to be broken, and becoming unified through the journey to the next world." |
| Seal by Gillian Clarke | Gillian Clarke | 'Seal' by Gillian Clarke it's all about motherhood depicted through the relationship and a mother and a baby seal. In the first part of the poem, the speaker describes how the mother seal's instincts pull her to her child for the first fourteen days after he's born. The baby seal feeds and takes all the nutrients he needs from her. But, after a brief period of time, the mother's other instincts take over, and the baby seal is left to fend for himself. | When the milk-arrow stabs, she comes, water-fluent, down the long green miles. Her milk leaks into the sea - blue blossoming in an opal. The pup lies patient in his cot of stone. They meet with cries, caress as people do. She lies down for his suckling, lifts him with a flipper from the sea's reach when the tide fills his throat with salt. This is the fourteenth day. In two days, no bitch-head will break the brilliance listening for baby-cries. Down in the thunder of that other country, the bulls are calling and her uterus is empty. Alone and hungering in his fallen shawl, He'll nuzzle the Atlantic and be gone. If that day's still, his moult will lie a gleaming ring on the sand, like the noose she slips on the sea. | reddit.com/r/Poetry/comments/qrpj23/poem_seal_by_gillian_clarke/ | 119 | "A poem about a mother seal nurturing her young before instinct pulls her away, leaving him to survive alone." |
| Requiem for the Croppies by Seamus Heaney | Seamus Heaney | Requiem for the Croppies' by Seamus Heaney describes the tragedy of the Irish Rebellion of 1798 from the perspective of a soldier. 'Requiem for the Croppies' begins with the speaker describing how he, and his companions have “greatcoats full of barley.” They are on the move, or as he says, “on the run”. There is no time for them to strike camp, and there are also no kitchens for them to cook in. The speaker implies that they are being attacked and are forced to flee in their own lands. He is hoping to draw the reader's attention to the aggressive nature of the British forces. These lines also suggest that the rebellion is not as organized as it could be. In the second quatrain, the speaker notes that the soldiers do everything they can to fight off the British. Although they are disorganized, they continually try new tactics. These are not ultimately successful as the final lines discuss the slaughter of these men at Vinegar Hill. The poem ends on a hopeful note, suggesting that the men, or others like them, would in the future once more take up the cause and fight back against the oppressive British regime. | The pockets of our greatcoats full of barley... No kitchens on the run, no striking camp... We moved quick and sudden in our own country. The priest lay behind ditches with the tramp. A people hardly marching... on the hike... We found new tactics happening each day: We'd cut through reins and rider with the pike And stampede cattle into infantry, Then retreat through hedges where cavalry must be thrown. Until... on Vinegar Hill... the final conclave. Terraced thousands died, shaking scythes at cannon. The hillside blushed, soaked in our broken wave. They buried us without shroud or coffin And in August... the barley grew up out of our grave. | http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/seamus_heaney/poems/12705 | 96 | "A poem about Irish rebels fighting and dying in the 1798 Rebellion, carrying barley in their greatcoats as they are fleeing, struggling, and falling at Vinegar Hill, yet sowing the seeds of future resistance." |
| A Psalm of Life by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | 'A Psalm of Life' by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow describes the purpose of life, and how one should handle the sorrow and struggles along the way. The poem begins with the speaker contradicting a listener who wants to explain life to him as a matter of number and figures. The rest of the poem is dedicated to the speaker trying to prove this unknown person wrong. He describes the way in which he believes that no matter what death brings, the soul will never be destroyed. Because of this, it is important to do all one can in life to make one's situation, and that of others, better. The speaker comes to the conclusion that he, and the listener, must be prepared at any time for death, strife, or any trouble thrown at them. They must face life, and make the best of every day. | What The Heart Of The Young Man Said To The Psalmist. Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world’s broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife! Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act,— act in the living Present! Heart within, and God o’erhead! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o’er life’s solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait. | poetryfoundation.org/poems/44644/a-psalm-of-life | 185 | A poem about exploring the purpose of life and urging the striving to make the most of every day, no matter the struggles or inevitability of death along the way. |
| Are You Looking For That Poet? by Vihang Naik | Vihang Naik | 'Are You Looking For That Poet?' by Vihang Naik is a straightforward discussion of the honest, human role of poets in contemporary society. The poem takes the reader through the traditional imagery associated with poets and poetry. They are usually considered to be transcendent and all-knowing as if oracles. This is not the case though. They are subject to the same irritations and stresses as all human beings. They might not, the speaker warns, have all the answers the “Reader” is looking for. | In this age , dear Reader do not look for a poet who would tell you the secrets of a mermaid. The Oceanic surf may not have that meaning. There are no Oracles of Signs and Judgments. A message is the same regarding roses and poses that tomorrow will be dying. Perhaps the muse has left him. He may not be among clouds singing a song of birds and bees. Nowadays he is a man like you and me. A voice hooting in the traffic with stale words and tired tongue . | https://gopikottoor.wixsite.com/ugf-july-sept-2015/poetry-home | 79 | A poem about challenging the transcendent, oracle-like imagery traditionally associated with poets by exploring their honest, human role in contemporary society and warning readers that poets are subject to the same irritations and stresses as all human beings and may not have all the answers. |
| The Dead by Billy Collins | Billy Collins | The Dead' by Billy Collins draws attention to the feelings of the dead for the living in a lucid language. In this poem, Collins shows how the dead are ever-watching on the moves of human beings down on earth. They, perhaps, disdainfully evaluate them by their mundane daily activities. While the living does their jobs, they glide through the river of eternity above and keep an eye on them through the glass-bottom boats of heaven. At times, when the living feels drowsy, lulled by the humming sound of nature, they wait for the permanent closure of their eyes. | The dead are always looking down on us, they say, while we are putting on our shoes or making a sandwich, they are looking down through the glass-bottom boats of heaven as they row themselves slowly through eternity. They watch the tops of our heads moving below on earth, and when we lie down in a field or on a couch, drugged perhaps by the hum of a warm afternoon, they think we are looking back at them, which makes them lift their oars and fall silent and wait, like parents, for us to close our eyes. | https://thedewdrop.org/2021/06/02/billy-collins-the-dead/ | 87 | "A poem about the dead watching over the living from eternity, disdainfully observing their mundane activities and waiting for the moment their eyes will permanently close." |
| Plenty by Isobel Dixon | Isobel Dixon | 'Plenty' by Isobel Dixon describes the relationships a speaker had while she was a child and how she interprets them now that she is an adult. The poem begins with the speaker informing the reader that she had four siblings and they all tormented their mother. The family lived in poverty, without enough water to run a full bath. Although the speaker was always present in the house, she didn't realize that it was due to money concerns that her mother was never truly happy. The speaker states that all the children thought their mother was mean. Now that she is older, the speaker is able to look back on her life and know why her mother acted the way she did. She misses the interactions with all of her family members and still carries a bit of guilt for what she has now, compared to then, when taking a full bubble bath. | When I was young and there were five of us, all running riot to my mother’s quiet despair, our old enamel tub, age-stained and pocked upon its griffin claws, was never full. Such plenty was too dear in our expanse of drought where dams leaked dry and windmills stalled. Like Mommy’s smile. Her lips stretched back and anchored down, in anger at some fault – of mine, I thought – not knowing then it was a clasp to keep us all from chaos. She saw it always, snapping locks and straps, the spilling: sums and worries, shopping lists for aspirin, porridge, petrol, bread. Even the toilet paper counted, and each month was weeks too long. Her mouth a lid clamped hard on this. We thought her mean. Skipped chores, swiped biscuits – best of all when she was out of earshot stole another precious inch up to our chests, such lovely sin, lolling luxuriant in secret warmth disgorged from fat brass taps, our old compliant co-conspirators. Now bubbles lap my chin. I am a sybarite. The shower’s a hot cascade and water’s plentiful, to excess, almost, here. I leave the heating on. And miss my scattered sisters, all those bathroom squabbles and, at last, my mother’s smile, loosed from the bonds of lean, dry times and our long childhood. | https://www.poetryinternational.com/en/poets-poems/poems/poem/103-5436_PLENTY | 187 | "A poem about a speaker reflecting on her childhood poverty and her mother's unhappiness, feeling guilt over her current abundance." |
| The Net by Julie O’Callaghan | Julie O'Callaghan | The Net' by Julie O'Callaghan talks about the old-school reunion and the poet's strong desire to “slip through” it. 'The Net' by Julie O'Callaghan talks about the poet's school reunion party. The class committee of the school is finding the students of the old batch for inviting them to the reunion at a “hotel ballroom/ festooned with 70s paraphernalia”. The poet somehow wants to avoid such things. She removes her virtual profile from the “cyber-space” and wants to slip through the net of social bonding with her old school friends. One of her school friends, her locker partner, has a desire to go there. But, the poet is detached from it. She tries to stay away from the reunion anyhow as she had always done in her school days. | I am the Lost Classmate being hunted down the superhighways and byways of infinite cyber-space. How long can I evade the class committee searching for my lost self? I watch the list of Found Classmates grow by the month Corralled into a hotel ballroom festooned with 70s paraphernalia, bombarded with atmospheric hit tunes, the Captured Classmates from Sullivan High School will celebrate thirty years of freedom from each other. I peek at the message board: my locker partner, out in California, looks forward to being reunited with her old school chums. Wearing a disguise, I calculate the number of months left for me to do what I do best, what I’ve always done: slip through the net. | https://observaionsofexistence.wordpress.com/tag/poems/ | 92 | "A poem about a woman trying to slip through the net of her school reunion, detaching herself from the social bonds of her past while her old classmates eagerly seek each other out." |
| To Helen by Edgar Allan Poe | Edgar Allan Poe | 'To Helen' by Edgar Allan Poe is an allusion-rich poem that depicts the poet's love for an older woman through the image of Helen of Troy. The speaker compares the mother of a close friend, Jane Stanard, to Helen throughout the three stanzas of 'To Helen'. He speaks of her beauty and compares her to various figures from mythology. She is a guiding light to a weary traveling, the embodiment of the glory of Greece, and the home that all travelers are trying to get back to. | Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicéan barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece, And the grandeur that was Rome. Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche How statue-like I see thee stand, The agate lamp within thy hand! Ah, Psyche, from the regions which Are Holy-Land! | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44888/to-helen | 71 | "A poem about a radiant woman being revered as a mythological guiding light, embodying ancient glory and representing the beauty and home that weary travelers are forever seeking." |
| Dream Boogie by Langston Hughes | Langston Hughes | 'Dream Boogie' by Langston Hughes is a short, effective poem about jazz music and the pain of those who create it. The poem contains the words of two people, one who is trying to discuss the inspiration and pain behind jazz music and another who only wants to understand it for its happy beat. One is a surface level, and one is a more profound interpretation. | Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie-woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely: You’ll hear their feet Beating out and beating out a— You think It’s a happy beat? Listen to it closely: Ain’t you heard something underneath like a— What did I say? Sure, I’m happy! Take it away! Hey, pop! Re-bop! Mop! Y-e-a-h! | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/151091/dream-boogie | 36 | "A poem about jazz music's joyful beat concealing the deeper pain and inspiration driving those who are creating it." |
| Sweet Rose of Virtue by William Dunbar | William Dunbar | 'Sweet Rose of Virtue' by William Dunbar describes the changed feelings of a speaker who no longer understands a woman he used to love. The poem begins with the speaker professing his love for the listener by listing off her attributes. He has, in the past, seen her as being virtuous, gentle, and sweet. She was full of life and beauty that he loved and appreciated. Something has happened now though and she has become “merciless.” In the next section of the poem, the speaker describes following her into her garden and seeing her beautiful flowers. On top of the beauty is something poor-smelling, rue. The poem concludes with the speaker declaring the woman dead. It is unclear if she has in fact died or if he is so upset by the change in her that he has decided she is dead. Explore more poems from William Dunbar. | Sweet rose of virtue and of gentleness, delightful lily of youthful wantonness, richest in bounty and in beauty clear and in every virtue that is held most dear― except only that you are merciless. Into your garden, today, I followed you; there I saw flowers of freshest hue, both white and red, delightful to see, and wholesome herbs, waving resplendently― yet nowhere, one leaf or flower of rue. I fear that March with his last arctic blast has slain my fair rose of pallid and gentle cast, whose piteous death does my heart such pain that, if I could, I would compose her roots again― so comforting her bowering leaves have been. | poemhunter.com/poem/sweet-rose-of-virtue/ | 97 | "A poem about a speaker professing love for a once-virtuous and beautiful woman, following her into her garden, and ultimately declaring her dead after she becomes merciless and changed beyond recognition." |
| The Long Hill by Sara Teasdale | Sara Teasdale | Climbing her metaphorical hill, The Long Hill by Sara Teasdale focuses on the uncertainty about when one 'peaks' in life. Teasdale cannot see ahead or behind her, and is therefore disappointed to realize that she 'passed the crest' of her life 'a while ago'. The poet suggests that there is a moment in life when we all reach our 'peak', with everything else just 'going down'. Teasdale's attitude to life is depressing, but hauntingly realistic. | I must have passed the crest a while ago And now I am going down. Strange to have crossed the crest and not to know— But the brambles were always catching the hem of my gown. All the morning I thought how proud it would be To stand there straight as a queen— Wrapped in the wind and the sun, with the world under me. But the air was dull, there was little I could have seen. It was nearly level along the beaten track And the brambles caught in my gown— But it’s no use now to think of turning back, The rest of the way will be only going down. | poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/55806/the-long-hill-56d237bcb54a0 | 100 | "A poem about a person climbing a metaphorical hill of life, realising with disappointment that they have already passed their peak and are now only going down." |
| Air Raid by Chinua Achebe | Chinua Achebe | 'Air Raid' by Chinua Achebe relates the events of the Nigerian Civil War from a civilian's point of view. 'Air Raid' has a rapid-fire opening. The poem immediately takes us to the war setting, where aircraft are literally reigning death on civilians. It doesn't mellow out in the second stanza. In fact, the poem brings us closer to the war using a mundane scenario of friends about to greet each other before one of them is sliced in half. Regardless, 'Air Raid' attempts to dissolve tension at its end by including dark humor. As the speaker says, the dead friend has other worries now than his friendly greeting. | It comes so quickly the bird of death from evil forests of Soviet technology A man crossing the road to greet a friend is much too slow. His friend cut in halves has other worries now than a friendly handshake at noon. | https://hursandryder.wordpress.com/2019/06/04/air-raid/ | 32 | "A poem about civilians experiencing the devastating chaos of war, where death strikes suddenly amidst ordinary life, leaving dark humor as the only solace." |
| The Old Maid by Sara Teasdale | Sara Teasdale | The Old Maid by Sara Teasdale begins with Teasdale and her lover driving in a 'Broadway car', together in the seats. Outside the window, they see an old woman, which bares incredibly resemblance to Teasdale herself. Teasdale looks at the features of the woman without love, her body seems to have withered away from lack of care. Although there are similarities between Teasdale and the old maid, Teasdale has had love in her life and is therefore healthy. The poem emphasizes the importance of love, suggesting it can physically make people healthier and happier. Knowing she has been in love, Teasdale is glad to realize that she will 'never be' this woman who looks so physically similar to her. | I saw her in a Broadway car, The woman I might grow to be; I felt my lover look at her And then turn suddenly to me. Her hair was dull and drew no light And yet its color was as mine; Her eyes were strangely like my eyes Tho' love had never made them shine. Her body was a thing grown thin, Hungry for love that never came; Her soul was frozen in the dark Unwarmed forever by love's flame. I felt my lover look at her And then turn suddenly to me, — His eyes were magic to defy The woman I shall never be. | poetryfoundation.org/poems/46008/the-old-maid | 91 | "A poem about a woman riding with her lover, observing an old maid who physically mirrors her, and feeling grateful for the love that separates their fates." |
| American Poetry by Louis Simpson | Louis Simpson | 'American Poetry' by Louis Simpson invests life into poetry and portrays it as a gigantic creature able to devour a great number of subjects. This piece begins with a god-like description of poetry in America. Simpson invests the idea with the ability to digest several topics. These include rubber, coal, uranium, moons, and most importantly, other poems. In the next stanza, the speaker talks about the range of this creature. It has the ability to reach distant regions. Besides, it aptly portrays human aspirations, pains, and hopes. | Whatever it is, it must have A stomach that can digest Rubber, coal, uranium, moons, poems. Like the shark it contains a shoe. It must swim for miles through the desert Uttering cries that are almost human. | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/54197/american-poetry | 32 | "A poem about poetry as a vast, living creature devouring subjects ranging from material goods to human aspirations, pains, and hopes." |
| Pomegranate by D. H. Lawrence | D.H. Lawrence | Pomegranate by D. H. Lawrence begins by directly questioning the reader's authority on right and 'wrong'. The start of the poem is strange, Lawrence's use of the direct address seemingly angry and pointed. Considering this is a poem about love, it is only right that Lawrence draws upon further strong emotions, dictating to the reader that he will be telling the story, no one else. How he decides to live his life is up to him, 'I am not wrong'. Lawrence takes us on a journey around three cities, 'Syracuse', 'Venice', and 'Tuscany' in order to compare the differing Pomegranates that he finds in each of the locations. This symbol of the pomegranate can be understood as a metaphor for love, Lawrence connecting the red heart and the deep red color of the pomegranate. The final image of the poem focuses on how Lawrence 'prefer[s] my heart to be broken', as in line with a pomegranate, a fissure allows for one to see 'within the crack'. | You tell me I am wrong. Who are you, who is anybody to tell me I am wrong? I am not wrong. In Syracuse, rock left bare by the viciousness of Greek women, No doubt you have forgotten the pomegranate trees in flower, Oh so red, and such a lot of them. Whereas at Venice, Abhorrent, green, slippery city Whose Doges were old, and had ancient eyes, In the dense foliage of the inner garden Pomegranates like bright green stone, And barbed, barbed with a crown. Oh, crown of spiked green metal Actually growing! Now, in Tuscany, Pomegranates to warm your hands at; And crowns, kingly, generous, tilting crowns Over the left eyebrow. And, if you dare, the fissure! Do you mean to tell me you will see no fissure? Do you prefer to look on the plain side? For all that, the setting suns are open. The end cracks open with the beginning: Rosy, tender, glittering within the fissure. Do you mean to tell me there should be no fissure? No glittering, compact drops of dawn? Do you mean it is wrong, the gold-filmed skin, integument, shown ruptured? For my part, I prefer my heart to be broken. It is so lovely, dawn-kaleidoscopic within the crack. | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/148466/pomegranate-5bec49e88e4ca | 177 | A poem about preferring a broken heart, comparing the pomegranate's red, cracked interior across three cities as a metaphor for love's deeper truths. |
| Childhood by Markus Natten | Markus Natten | Childhood' Markus Natten presents the concept of childhood and he questions about its abrupt departure from his life. 'Childhood' by Markus Natten is a subjective poem. Thus, at the beginning of each stanza Natten constantly asks himself, “When did my childhood go?” He is confused about when he ceased to be a child. As an adult, he feels dejected to think about the loss of innocence in him. Those things which once amused him like the thoughts of “Hell and Heaven”, are now faraway dreams. Everything has changed around him. His parents don't love him in the way they did before. The poet has become egocentric. He only thinks about himself, unlike a child. Presently, he is only left with his musings on childhood. He thinks childhood might have gone to a distant land. At last, he gets his answer after seeing an infant's face. The sight gives him a sense of relief to think that it has gone nowhere. | When did my childhood go? Was it the day I ceased to be eleven, Was it the time I realised that Hell and Heaven, Could not be found in Geography, And therefore could not be, Was that the day! When did my childhood go? Was it the time I realised that adults were not all they seemed to be, They talked of love and preached of love, But did not act so lovingly, Was that the day! When did my childhood go? Was it when I found my mind was really mine, To use whichever way I choose, Producing thoughts that were not those of other people But my own, and mine alone Was that the day! Where did my childhood go? It went to some forgotten place, That’s hidden in an infant’s face, That’s all I know. | https://www.ssgopalganj.in/online/Class%20XI/Eng/Hornbill/ch14.pdf | 118 | A poem about a person questioning when their childhood departed, losing innocence and unconditional love, while coming to realize through an infant's face that childhood never truly disappears. |
| Heart and Mind by Edith Sitwell | Edith Sitwell | ‘Heart and Mind’ was written in 1944. Edith Sitwell’s best-known work is the one produced during the Second World War. Most of her work focuses on themes such as mortality, time, consciousness, and love. ‘Heart and Mind’, particularly, explores the passion and its difference from the traditional idea of true love. Moreover, the poem considers physical and spiritual existence to question this idea of love and mortality. The poem is written in free verse form. It has four stanzas with eight, five, four, and five lines respectively. As a free verse poem, ‘Heart and Mind’ doesn’t have a particular rhyme scheme. Nevertheless, enjambment can be read in the poem, and there is a great use of allegorical figures. The tone of ‘Heart and Mind’ is reflective and it has a surreal and fantastical mood. | SAID the Lion to the Lioness - 'When you are amber dust, - No more a raging fire like the heat of the Sun (No liking but all lust) - Remember still the flowering of the amber blood and bone, The rippling of bright muscles like a sea, Remember the rose-prickles of bright paws Though we shall mate no more Till the fire of that sun the heart and the moon-cold bone are one.' Said the Skeleton lying upon the sands of Time - 'The great gold planet that is the mourning heat of the Sun Is greater than all gold, more powerful Than the tawny body of a Lion that fire consumes Like all that grows or leaps...so is the heart More powerful than all dust. Once I was Hercules Or Samson, strong as the pillars of the seas: But the flames of the heart consumed me, and the mind Is but a foolish wind.' Said the Sun to the Moon - 'When you are but a lonely white crone, And I, a dead King in my golden armour somewhere in a dark wood, Remember only this of our hopeless love That never till Time is done Will the fire of the heart and the fire of the mind be one.' | https://www.poetrybyheart.org.uk/poems/heart-and-mind | 190 | "A poem about questioning the nature of true love and mortality by exploring the contrast between passion and spiritual existence through allegorical figures in a reflective and surreal tone." |
| Spring and Fall by Gerard Manley Hopkins | Gerard Manley Hopkins | ‘Spring and Fall’ by Gerard Manley Hopkins uses a unique rhyme scheme and the concept of nature’s demise as a representation of something much deeper. In this one-stanza work, Hopkins utilizes the reaction of a young girl named Margaret to express a deep-rooted fear that humans carry throughout their lives, expressly that of their own mortality. What seems like a simple account of a girl “grieving” over trees losing their “[l]eaves” as summer months leading into the autumn season is eventually noted to have a much greater meaning. That meaning, as Hopkins notes in the final line of the poem, is that Margaret is “mourn[ing]” the passage of her own life, even though she is not mature enough to grasp the notion. | to a young child Márgarét, áre you gríeving Over Goldengrove unleaving? Leáves like the things of man, you With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? Ah! ás the heart grows older It will come to such sights colder By and by, nor spare a sigh Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie; And yet you wíll weep and know why. Now no matter, child, the name: Sórrow’s spríngs áre the same. Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed What heart heard of, ghost guessed: It ís the blight man was born for, It is Margaret you mourn for. | poetryfoundation.org/poems/44400/spring-and-fall | 82 | "A poem about a young girl grieving over falling leaves, unknowingly mourning her own mortality." |
| Life is Fine by Langston Hughes | Langston Hughes | Form and Tone 'Life is Fine' is free verse and is separated into 9 stanzas. There is a consistent pattern with two quatrains being followed by a single line. The singular line, whilst different every time follows a similar pattern. Almost acting in the way you would expect a refrain to act. In each quatrain, the second and fourth lines rhyme with one another. This gives the poem an unexpected and playful feel despite being a bit gloomy in its content. The poem comes across as tongue-in-cheek. | I went down to the river, I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn't, So I jumped in and sank. I came up once and hollered! I came up twice and cried! If that water hadn't a-been so cold I might've sunk and died. But it was Cold in that water! It was cold! I took the elevator Sixteen floors above the ground. I thought about my baby And thought I would jump down. I stood there and I hollered! I stood there and I cried! If it hadn't a-been so high I might've jumped and died. But it was High up there! It was high! So since I'm still here livin', I guess I will live on. I could've died for love— But for livin' I was born Though you may hear me holler, And you may see me cry— I'll be dogged, sweet baby, If you gonna see me die. Life is fine! Fine as wine! Life is fine! | https://poets.org/poem/life-fine | 138 | "A poem about life playing between gloom and lightness, using a playful, tongue-in-cheek structure to refrain from taking its dark content too seriously." |
| Sonnet 16 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning | Elizabeth Barrett Browning | 'Sonnet 16' by Elizabeth Barrett Browning is a love sonnet dedicated to the poet's future happiness. In the first part of the poem, the speaker declares that with her beloved's love, she can overcome anything. She knows that he is going to protect her and help her live a happier life. As the sonnet progresses, the poet states that she is ready to dedicate herself to her newfound happiness and escape the sorrow of her past. | And yet, because thou overcomest so, Because thou art more noble and like a king, Thou canst prevail against my fears and fling Thy purple round me, till my heart shall grow Too close against thine heart henceforth to know How it shook when alone. Why, conquering May prove as lordly and complete a thing In lifting upward, as in crushing low! And as a vanquished soldier yields his sword To one who lifts him from the bloody earth, Even so, Beloved, I at last record, Here ends my strife. If thou invite me forth, I rise above abasement at the word. Make thy love larger to enlarge my worth. | https://www.best-poems.net/elizabeth_barrett_browning/sonnet_16_and_yet_because_thou_overcomest_so.html | 96 | A poem about a speaker dedicating herself to newfound love and happiness, overcoming past sorrow with the protection of her beloved. |
| Maiden Name by Philip Larkin | Philip Larkin | 'Maiden Name' by Philip Larkin contains Larkin's own opinions about marriage and how it consumed the identity of a close friend. The poem begins with the speaker addressing the listener as “you.” This person has recently gotten married and cast off their maiden name. Now, they go by something different. With the alteration of their name, they have severed all ties to the past. The person Larkin knew, the young beautiful girl, is gone. All he has left are the memories. In the next lines, Larkin describes how the listener's maiden name is lost to her. Everything she used to own with her old name on it has been discarded. As if acting negligently, she has thrown it all away. The final stanza describes in detail how the speaker takes comfort in her old name. It still exists but now it only represents memories. There, within the past, he is able to commune with the girl he knew before. | Marrying left your maiden name disused. Its five light sounds no longer mean your face, Your voice, and all your variants of grace; For since you were so thankfully confused By law with someone else, you cannot be Semantically the same as that young beauty: It was of her that these two words were used. Now it's a phrase applicable to no one, Lying just where you left it,scattered through Old lists, old programmes, a school prize or two Packets of letters tied with tartan ribbon - Then is it scentless, weightless, strengthless, wholly Untruthful? Try whispering it slowly. No, it means you. Or, since you're past and gone, It means what we feel now about you then: How beautiful you were, and near, and young, So vivid, you might still be there among Those first few days, unfingermarked again. So your old name shelters our faithfulness, Instead of losing shape and meaning less With your depreciating luggage laden. | https://allpoetry.com/Maiden-Name | 138 | "A poem about a speaker communing with memories of a young, beautiful girl whose identity has been consumed and discarded through marriage, severing all ties to who she once was." |
| Quivira City Limits by Kevin Young | Kevin Young | 'Quivira City Limits' by Kevin Young describes the beauty of Kansas' fields and shares the history of the place with impassioned terms. This poem begins with a direct address to Averill to whom the poem is dedicated. The speaker of this piece, Young, tells his co-passenger to stop by the fields somewhere outside the limits of Topeka town. He welcomes him to enjoy the rustic scene where a rusted tractor stands by. In an epigrammatic tone, he tells his Averill that the world was never too small. The advanced transportation brought the regions closer. He goes on to share the story of Spanish conquistador Coronado who once stepped on this rich land in search of gold. However, he had a disappointing end but this land does not disappoint the speaker. | Pull over. Your car with its slow breathing. Somewhere outside Topeka it suddenly all matters again, those tractors blooming rust in the fields only need a good coat of paint. Red. You had to see for yourself, didn't you; see that the world never turned small, transportation just got better; to learn we can't say a town or a baseball team without breathing in a dead Indian. To discover why Coronado pushed up here, following the guide who said he knew fields of gold, north, who led them past these plains, past buffaloes dark as he was. Look. Nothing but the wheat, waving them sick, a sea. While they strangle him blue as the sky above you The Moor must also wonder when will all this ever be enough? this wide open they call discovery, disappointment, this place my thousand bones carry, now call home. | https://www.washburn.edu/reference/cks/mapping/young/index.html | 121 | "A poem about exploring the beautiful fields outside Topeka, tracing the history of those who have sought riches in the land while finding that it never disappoints." |
| Musee des Beaux Arts by W.H. Auden | W.H. Auden | Musee des Beaux Arts' by W.H. Auden describes, through the use of one specific artwork, the impact of suffering on humankind. The poem begins with the speaker stating that the “Old Masters” who were responsible for the art he was looking at, knew struggle well. Through their paintings, they were able to portray suffering in a way that most people never see it. It goes on in the background while others sit, eat, and go about their normal lives. He continues on to say that suffering can take many forms and even revolve around the same event, such as the birth of a child. In the final lines of the first stanza, the speaker mentions martyrs and how their sacrifice is never properly appreciated. It fades into the background and is overtaken by the mundane world. In the second stanza, he refers directly to a piece of art, Landscape with the Fall of Icarus. In this work, one can observe Icarus falling into the sea in the bottom right-hand corner. In the foreground, there are figures ploughing the land and preparing to sail. No one notices the boy's suffering or if they do, they make no effort to help. Their lives take precedence over another's struggle. | About suffering they were never wrong, The old Masters: how well they understood Its human position: how it takes place While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along; How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting For the miraculous birth, there always must be Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating On a pond at the edge of the wood: They never forgot That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse Scratches its innocent behind on a tree. In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry, But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green Water, and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky, Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on. | http://english.emory.edu/classes/paintings&poems/auden.html | 163 | A poem about suffering going unnoticed as it fades into the background while others continue ploughing, sailing, and going about their mundane lives. |
| I Looked Up from My Writing by Thomas Hardy | Thomas Hardy | 'I Looked Up from My Writing' by Thomas Hardy is an existentially contemplative piece in which a writer is confronted with his own ignorance and irresponsibility. The poem begins with the speaker sitting at his writing desk, looking up, and being startled by the presence of the moon directly outside his window. He initially believes the moon is there to see what he is writing, but after he asks her what she is doing. Her answer quickly contradicts this assumption. She states that she out looking for the body of a man who killed himself by drowning. The man was overwrought with sorrow over the death of his son, an innocent young man killed in battle. The moon is distraught by this battle and those who willingly participate in it. Continuing on, the moon addresses the speaker once more. She says that she is there at his window because she wants to know what kind of man can spend his time writing when the world is experiencing battles such as this. She believes he is willingly wearing blinders, ignorant of what is truly important. He is deeply upset by this accusation but plays directly into her opinion of him, hiding from her gaze. | I looked up from my writing, And gave a start to see, As if rapt in my inditing, The moon's full gaze on me. Her meditative misty head Was spectral in its air, And I involuntarily said, 'What are you doing there?' 'Oh, I've been scanning pond and hole And waterway hereabout For the body of one with a sunken soul Who has put his life-light out. 'Did you hear his frenzied tattle? It was sorrow for his son Who is slain in brutish battle, Though he has injured none. 'And now I am curious to look Into the blinkered mind Of one who wants to write a book In a world of such a kind.' Her temper overwrought me, And I edged to shun her view, For I felt assured she thought me One who should drown him too. | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/57341/i-looked-up-from-my-writing | 116 | A poem about a writer being confronted by the moon, who questions how he can spend his time writing while the world suffers through battle and tragedy. |
| Balloons by Sylvia Plath | Sylvia Plath | Balloons' is a beautiful rendering of an everyday object as she elevates the balloons' nature by giving them life. It is also one of the best confessional poems as it expresses the vulnerable side of depression. Sylvia sees beauty in ordinary things, but it only lasts for a short while, and she is back to the harsh reality that breaks her heart and removes her happiness. In the end, she explains how one's childhood dreams and innocence is lost as the person grows up and is left with the harsh reality. | Since Christmas they have lived with us, Guileless and clear, Oval soul-animals, Taking up half the space, Moving and rubbing on the silk Invisible air drifts, Giving a shriek and pop When attacked, then scooting to rest, barely trembling. Yellow cathead, blue fish———— Such queer moons we live with Instead of dead furniture! Straw mats, white walls And these traveling Globes of thin air, red, green, Delighting The heart like wishes or free Peacocks blessing Old ground with a feather Beaten in starry metals. Your small Brother is making His balloon squeak like a cat. Seeming to see A funny pink world he might eat on the other side of it, He bites, Then sits Back, fat jug Contemplating a world clear as water. A red Shred in his little fist. 5 February 1963 | https://allpoetry.com/Balloons | 103 | "A poem about finding fleeting beauty in ordinary things, only to be pulled back into a harsh reality that shatters innocence and childhood dreams." |
| I’ve made out a will; I’m leaving myself by Simon Armitage | Simon Armitage | Form and Tone 'I've made out a will; I'm leaving myself' takes the form of a jaunty sonnet, albeit with a slightly skewed and inconsistent rhyming pattern. This is an unusual choice as a sonnet is a form most often associated with love poems. The poem is highly comical and full of amusing comparisons and colorful metaphors. It employs several tricolons, a poetic device whereby three adjectives are used in quick succession. Perhaps this repeating pattern of description is supposed to symbolize a heartbeat? One thing is for sure the poem “zips along” at a breakneck pace. The subject matter is a person giving up their organs to the national health service, although as I have asserted I think there are deeper levels to this poem. Whilst I have assigned this poem a title it doesn't actually have one. It is taken from a collection called Book of Matches. In this collection all the poems are supposed to be able to be read in the time it takes for a match to burn to its end. | I've made out a will; I'm leaving myself to the National Health. I'm sure they can use the jellies and tubes and syrups and glues, the web of nerves and veins, the loaf of brains, and assortment of fillings and stitches and wounds, blood - a gallon exactly of bilberry soup - the chassis or cage or cathedral of bone; but not the heart, they can leave that alone. They can have the lot, the whole stock: the loops and coils and sprockets and springs and rods, the twines and cords and strands, the face, the case, the cogs and the hands, but not the pendulum, the ticker; leave that where it stops or hangs. | https://genius.com/Simon-armitage-ive-made-out-a-will-ive-left-myself-annotated | 101 | "A poem about a person humorously willing their organs to the national health service, employing colorful metaphors and amusing comparisons while zipping along at a breakneck pace." |
| Poem for Passengers by Matthew Zapruder | Matthew Zapruder | Matthew Zapruder's 'Poem for Passengers' details the story of 'strangers' that board a train and are whisked off to their next destination. The poem explores the physical things they see and how they occupy their time while on the train. It turns to an introspective dream state, discussing how strangers are linked through their dreams and can relate to each other as everyone has a problem going on. The final part of the poem turns to these 'problems', presenting the strangers looking inward, always trying to 'solve' something that is bothering them. When the passengers depart, Zapruder suggests that a part of the journey lives on within them forever, never really leaving behind the memory of traveling. | Like all strangers who temporarily find themselves moving in the same direction we look out the window without really seeing or down at our phones trying to catch the dying signal then the famous lonesome whistle so many singers have sung about blows and our bodies shudder soon we pick up speed and pass the abandoned factories there has lately been so much conversation about through broken windows they stare asking us to decide but we fall asleep next to each other riding into the tunnel sharing without knowing the same dream in it we are carrying something an empty casket somehow so heavy only together can we carry it over a bridge in the snow emerging suddenly into the light we wake and open our laptops or a book about murder or a glossy magazine though we are mostly awake part of us still goes on solving problems so great they cannot be named even once we have reached our destination and disembark into whatever weather for a long time there is a compartment within us filled with analog silence inside us the dream goes on and on | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/152075/poem-for-passengers | 159 | "A poem about strangers boarding a train and occupying their time with physical observations and introspective dreaming, discovering their shared problems and carrying the memory of their journey with them long after departing." |
| Song of the Open Road by Walt Whitman | Walt Whitman | 'Song of the Open Road' by Walt Whitman describes a trip the speaker takes in order to learn about himself and enjoy the journey to an unnamed destination. The speaker of the poem is describing a trip on which he is embarking. He describes himself as being “healthy and free,” and he realizes he is the only person who is in complete control of his life; he chooses his own destiny. Because of this realization, he does not have to wish or hope or pray for good fortune. He attests that he, himself, is his own good fortune, and that is all he needs. There is nothing that he is lacking. He will reach his destination on his own, and the earth will provide him with anything extra that is necessary. This is not to say that the road he is taking is not paved with imperfections and burdens. Rather than worry, however, the speaker has decided to take those burdens with him and deal with them as they arise. | Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road, Healthy, free, the world before me, The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose. Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune, Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms, Strong and content I travel the open road. The earth, that is sufficient, I do not want the constellations any nearer, I know they are very well where they are, I know they suffice for those who belong to them. (Still here I carry my old delicious burdens, I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go, I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them, I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.) | https://poets.org/poem/song-open-road-1 | 123 | A poem about a speaker embarking on an open road journey, freely choosing his own destiny and carrying life's burdens with him as they arise. |
| The Firebombers by Anne Sexton | Anne Sexton | 'The Firebombers' by Anne Sexton is a powerful poem in which the speaker addresses acts of violence committed by America. The speaker starts the poem by including herself as part of the country. “We are the coffin fillers,” she says. The country is responsible for countless deaths that are treated callously. They occur regularly and in such a way that the government does not appear to care who they impact and why. The poem goes on, describing a child opening a shoebox bomb and a woman washing her mangled heart in the river. These striking and emotional images are contrasted with the lack of regard the speaker sees America showing for the rest of the world. The poem concludes with the speaker asking America where its “credentials” are or what right it has to take the actions its been taking. | We are America. We are the coffin fillers. We are the grocers of death. We pack them in crates like cauliflowers. The bomb opens like a shoebox. And the child? The child is certainly not yawning. And the woman? The woman is bathing her heart. It has been torn out of her and as a last act she is rinsing it off in the river. This is the death market. America, where are your credentials? | https://allpoetry.com/The-Firebombers | 60 | A poem about America committing acts of violence and filling coffins with countless deaths, while a speaker is questioning what right the country has to be taking such callous and destructive actions. |
| Sonnet 35 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning | Elizabeth Barrett Browning | 'Sonnet 35' by Elizabeth Barrett Browning explores the speaker's growing relationship with her beloved. The poem begins with the speaker asking a few questions about her beloved and expressing her concerns about their future. She's leaving her life behind and hopes that Browning is ready to do the same for her. At the same time, she's amazed that she could've ever thought that she wouldn't miss the elements of her day-to-day life (the things that brought her comfort when she was most sorrowful), but she's willingly leaving them behind. | If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange And be all to me? Shall I never miss Home-talk and blessing and the common kiss That comes to each in turn, nor count it strange, When I look up, to drop on a new range Of walls and floors ... another home than this? Nay, wilt thou fill that place by me which is Filled by dead eyes too tender to know change? That's hardest. If to conquer love, has tried, To conquer grief, tries more ... as all things prove; For grief indeed is love and grief beside. Alas, I have grieved so I am hard to love. Yet love me—wilt thou? Open thine heart wide, And fold within, the wet wings of thy dove. | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43741/sonnets-from-the-portuguese-35-if-i-leave-all-for-thee-wilt-thou-exchange | 112 | A poem about a speaker leaving her old life behind, expressing both wonder and concern as her relationship with her beloved deepens. |
| Crows in a Strong Wind by Cornelius Eady | Cornelius Eady | 'Crows in a Strong Wind' is a humorous poem about the crows' dance in a stormy wind and how it resembles the lovers who are stuck in embarrassing moments. This poem begins with the imagery of a strong wind. It unsettles the crows sitting on the roof. They cannot hold on to their position for the pressure. Hence they fly away and try to perch on things that come across. In the following lines, Eady likens the crows' flight to an awkward dance. It appears to be a comic incident to the speaker. Besides, their dance also reminds him of the embarrassing situations occurring while one's love goes wrong. | Off go the crows from the roof. The crows can’t hold on. They might as well Be perched on an oil slick. Such an awkward dance, These gentlemen In their spottled-black coats. Such a tipsy dance, As if they didn’t know where they were. Such a humorous dance, As they try to set things right, As the wind reduces them. Such a sorrowful dance. How embarrassing is love When it goes wrong In front of everyone. | https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48368/crows-in-a-strong-wind | 60 | A poem about crows dancing awkwardly in a strong wind, drawing parallels to the embarrassing and unsettling moments that arise when love goes wrong. |
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