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Best Famous Harold Pinter Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Harold Pinter poems. This is a select list of the best famous Harold Pinter poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Harold Pinter poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of harold pinter poems.

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by Harold Pinter | |


 No, you're wrong.
Everyone is as beautiful as they can possibly be Particularly at lunch in a laughing restaurant Everyone is as beautiful as they can possibly be And they are moved by their own beauty And they shed tears for it in the back of the taxi home

by Harold Pinter | |

The Ventriloquists

 I send my voice into your mouth
You return the compliment

I am the Count of Cannizzaro
You are Her Royal Highness the Princess Augusta

I am the thaumaturgic chain
You hold the opera glass and cards

You become extemporaneous song
I am your tutor

You are my invisible seed
I am Timour the Tartar

You are my curious trick
I your enchanted caddy

I am your confounding doll
You my confounded dummy.

by Harold Pinter | |

American Football

It works.
We blew the shit out of them.
We blew the shit right back up their own ass And out their fucking ears.
It works.
We blew the shit out of them.
They suffocated in their own shit! Hallelujah.
Praise the Lord for all good things.
We blew them into fucking shit.
They are eating it.
Praise the Lord for all good things.
We blew their balls into shards of dust, Into shards of fucking dust.
We did it.
Now I want you to come over here and kiss me on the mouth.

More great poems below...

by Harold Pinter | |

Poem (I saw Len Hutton in his prime...)

 I saw Len Hutton in his prime

Another time

 another time

by Harold Pinter | |


Fred phoned.
He can't make tonight.
He said he'd call again, as soon as poss.
I said (on your behalf) OK, no sweat.
He said to tell you he was fine, Only the crap, he said, you know, it sticks, The crap you have to fight.
You're sometimes nothing but a walking shithouse.
I was well acquainted with the pong myself, I told him, and I counselled calm.
Don't let the fuckers get you down, Take the lid off the kettle a couple of minutes, Go on the town, burn someone to death, Find another tart, giver her some hammer, Live while you're young, until it palls, Kick the first blind man you meet in the balls.
Anyway he'll call again.
I'll be back in time for tea.
Your loving mother.

by Harold Pinter | |

Poem (Dont look...)

 Don't look.
The world's about to break.
Don't look.
The world's about to chuck out all its light and stuff us in the chokepit of its dark, That black and fat suffocated place Where we will kill or die or dance or weep Or scream of whine or squeak like mice To renegotiate our starting price.