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Famous Bares Poems by Famous Poets

These are examples of famous Bares poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous bares poems. These examples illustrate what a famous bares poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).

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by Aiken, Conrad
...e last perfect rhyme
of the begin-all-end-all poem, time.


Northwest by north. The grasshopper weathervane
bares to the moon his golden breastplate, swings
in his predicted circle, gilded legs and wings
bright with frost, predicting frost. The tide
scales with moon-silver, floods the marsh, fulfils
Payne Creek and Quivett Creek, rises to lift
the fishing-boats against a jetty wall;
and past them floods the plankton and the weed
and limp sea-lettuce for the ho...Read more of this...

by Clark, Badger
...the West
  In canyon cool, on blistered range
    Or windy mountain crest.
  Wherever Nature drops her ears
    And bares her claws to scratch,
  From Yuma to the north frontiers,
    You'll likely find the bach',
        You will,
    The shy and sober bach'!

  Our days are sun and storm and mist,
    The same as any life,
  Except that in our trouble list
    We never count a wife.
  Each has a reason why he's lone,
    But keeps it 'neath his hat;
  Or, if...Read more of this...

by Popa, Vasko itself be heard 
But he grows bored 
Yearns to turn again into himself 
But without eyes he can't see how 

That one bares all his faces 
One after the other he throws them over the roof 
The last one he throws under his feet 
And sinks his head into his hands 

This one stretches his sight 
Stretches it from thumb to thumb 
Walks over it walks 
First slow then fast 
Then faster and faster 

That one plays with his head 
Juggles it in the air 
Meets it with his index finge...Read more of this...

by Lanier, Sidney
...f content!
Across this little vale, thy continent,
To where, beyond the mouldering mill,
Yon old deserted Georgian hill
Bares to the sun his piteous aged crest
And seamy breast,
By restless-hearted children left to lie
Untended there beneath the heedless sky,
As barbarous folk expose their old to die.
Upon that generous-rounding side,
With gullies scarified
Where keen Neglect his lash hath plied,
Dwelt one I knew of old, who played at toil,
And gave to coquette Cotton sou...Read more of this...

by Laurence Dunbar, Paul
...Victory at last!
Now for rest."
But, my comrades, come behold him,
Where our colors now enfold him,
And his breast
Bares no more to meet the blade,
But lies covered in the shade.
What a stir there is to-day!
They are laying him away
Where he fell.
There the flag goes draped before him;
Now they pile the grave sod o'er him
With a knell.
And he answers to his name
In the higher ranks of fame.
There's a woman left to mourn
For the child that she has borne
In tra...Read more of this...

by Hugo, Victor
 {CROMWELL, Act III. sc. iv.} 

 Stay! I no longer can contain myself, 
 But cry you: Look on John, who bares his mind 
 To Oliver—to Cromwell, Milton speaks! 
 Despite a kindling eye and marvel deep 
 A voice is lifted up without your leave; 
 For I was never placed at council board 
 To speak my promptings. When awed strangers come 
 Who've seen Fox-Mazarin wince at the stings 
 In my epistles—and bring admiring votes 
 Of learned colleges, th...Read more of this...

by Thomas, Dylan
...My hero bares his nerves along my wrist
That rules from wrist to shoulder,
Unpacks the head that, like a sleepy ghost,
Leans on my mortal ruler,
The proud spine spurning turn and twist.

And these poor nerves so wired to the skull
Ache on the lovelorn paper
I hug to love with my unruly scrawl
That utters all love hunger
And tells the page the empty ill.

My ...Read more of this...

by Gregory, Rg
hence the sun is revealed

parasites begin the digestion
in the harsh shack of winter
corn is conspired
the marsh bares its breast
to a medal
  a gold 
leaf is born - there is
hatred and hunger
 a cry
from the rushes
proclaims a long journey
whose sundown will
see us in safety - whose home
be our grave
  where we scratch
there is blood on the rockface

that we murder ourselves
is no setback - we arise
from the tomb unprovided
what-is-known is our crutches
let the light ...Read more of this...

by Laurence Dunbar, Paul
...The moon has left the sky, love,
The stars are hiding now,
And frowning on the world, love,
Night bares her sable brow.
The snow is on the ground, love,
And cold and keen the air is.
I 'm singing here to you, love;
You 're dreaming there in Paris.
But this is Nature's law, love,
Though just it may not seem,
That men should wake to sing, love,
While maidens sleep and dream.
Them care may not molest, love,
...Read more of this...

by Kipling, Rudyard no more to glean;
For the Gates of Love and Learning locked
When they went out between.

All lore our Lady Venus bares,
Signalled it was or told
By the dear lips long given to theirs
And longer to the mould.

All Profit, all Device, all Truth,
Written it was or said
By the mighty men of their mighty youth,
Which is mighty being dead.

The film that floats before their eyes
The Temple's Veil they call;
And the dust that on the Shewbread lies
Is holy over all.Read more of this...

by Brodsky, Joseph
...ds not with a seraphic "doh",
only their rustle. Life, that no one dares
to appraise, like that gift horse's mouth,
bares its teeth in a grin at each
encounter. What gets left of a man amounts
to a part. To his spoken part. To a part of speech....Read more of this...

by Aiken, Conrad true that I laughed and sprang from dust? . . . 
Has no one, in a great autumnal forest, 
When the wind bares the trees, 
Heard the sad horn of Senlin slowly blown? 
Has no one, on a mountain in the spring, 
Heard Senlin sing? 
Perhaps I came alone on a snow-white horse,—
Riding alone from the deep-starred night. 
Perhaps I came on a ship whose sails were music,—
Sailing from moon or sun on a river of light.'

He lights his pipe with a pointed flame.Read more of this...

by Stevenson, Robert Louis; 
And through the broken edge of tiles 
Into the laddered hay-loft smiles. 

Meantime his golden face around 
He bares to all the garden ground, 
And sheds a warm and glittering look 
Among the ivy's inmost nook. 

Above the hills, along the blue, 
Round the bright air with footing true, 
To please the child, to paint the rose, 
The gardener of the World, he goes....Read more of this...

by Killigrew, Anne
The bloody Wolf, the Wolf does not pursue; 
The Boar, though fierce, his Tusk will not embrue
In his own Kind, Bares, not on Bares do prey:
Then art thou, Man, more savage far than they. 

 And now, methinks, I present do behold
The Bloudy Fields that are in Fame enroll'd, 
I see, I see thousands in Battle slain, 
The Dead and Dying cover all the Plain, 
Confused Noises hear, each way sent out, 
The Vanquisht Cries joyn'd with the Victors shout;
Their Sighs and G...Read more of this...

by Service, Robert William
...Ma tried to wash her garden slacks but couldn't get 'em clean
And so she thought she'd soak 'em in a bucket o' benzine.
It worked all right. She wrung 'em out then wondered what she'd do
With all that bucket load of high explosive residue.
She knew that it was dangerous to scatter it around,
For Grandpa liked to throw his lighted matches on the...Read more of this...

by Blok, Aleksandr
Old mongrel world, clear off I say! 
I’ll have your hide to sole my boot! 

The shivering cur, the mongrel cur 
bares his teeth like a hungry wolf, 
droops his tail, but does not stir ... 
‘Hey answer, you there, show yourself.’ 

‘Who’s that waving the red flag?’ 
‘Try and see! It’s as dark as the tomb!’ 
‘Who’s that moving at a jog 
trot, keeping to the back-street gloom?’ 

‘Don’t you worry ~ I’ll catch you yet; 
better surrender to me alive!’ 
‘Com...Read more of this...

by Wordsworth, William
...waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. --Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of P...Read more of this...

by Popa, Vasko
...Each strips his own skin 
Each bares his own constellation 
Which has never seen the night 

Each fills his skin with rocks 
And plays with it 
Lit by his own stars 

Who doesn't stop till dawn 
Who doesn't bat an eyelid or fall 
Earns his own skin 

(This game is rarely played)...Read more of this...

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Book: Shattered Sighs