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Best Famous Jean Valentine Poems

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

Search for the best famous Jean Valentine poems, articles about Jean Valentine poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Jean Valentine poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

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Poems are below...


Written by Jean Valentine | Create an image from this poem

Elegy For Jane Kenyon

 Jane is big
with death, Don
sad and kind - Jane
though she's dying
is full of mind

We talk about the table
the little walnut one
how it's like
Emily Dickinson's

But Don says No
Dickinson's
was made of iron.
No said Jane Of flesh.
Written by Jean Valentine | Create an image from this poem

Dream Barker

 We met for supper in your flat-bottomed boat.
I got there first: in a white dress: I remember Wondering if you'd come.
Then you shot over the bank, A Virgilian Nigger Jim, and poled us off To a little sea-food barker's cave you knew.
What'll you have? you said.
Eels hung down, Bamboozled claws hung up from the crackling weeds.
The light was all behind us.
To one side In a dish of ice was a shell shaped like a sand-dollar But worked with Byzantine blue and gold.
What's that? Well, I've never seen it before, you said, And I don't know how it tastes.
Oh well, said I, if it's bad, I'm not too hungry, are you? We'd have the shell.
.
.
I know just how you feel, you said.
And asked for it; we held out our hands.
Six Dollars! barked the barker, For This Beauty! We fell down laughing in your flat-bottomed boat, .
And then I woke up: in a white dress: Dry as a bone on dry land, Jim, Bone dry, old, in a dry land, Jim, my Jim.
Written by Jean Valentine | Create an image from this poem

Late

 Late have I called &
late my 
beloved 
was blessing me 

I was covering 
my breasts with my arms 

 "Those doves" 
 you said 

In the sun I took my arms away
Written by Jean Valentine | Create an image from this poem

To Plath To Sexton

 So what use was poetry
to a white empty house?

Wolf, swan, hare,
in by the fire.
And when your tree crashed through your house, what use then was all your power? It was the use of you.
It was the flower.





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