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Best Famous Abc Poems

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

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Poems are below...



Written by Spike Milligan | Create an image from this poem

The ABC

 'Twas midnight in the schoolroom
And every desk was shut
When suddenly from the alphabet 
Was heard a loud "Tut-Tut!"

Said A to B, "I don't like C;
His manners are a lack.
For all I ever see of C Is a semi-circular back!" "I disagree," said D to B, "I've never found C so.
From where I stand he seems to be An uncompleted O.
" C was vexed, "I'm much perplexed, You criticise my shape.
I'm made like that, to help spell Cat And Cow and Cool and Cape.
" "He's right" said E; said F, "Whoopee!" Said G, "'Ip, 'Ip, 'ooray!" "You're dropping me," roared H to G.
"Don't do it please I pray.
" "Out of my way," LL said to K.
"I'll make poor I look ILL.
" To stop this stunt J stood in front, And presto! ILL was JILL.
"U know," said V, "that W Is twice the age of me.
For as a Roman V is five I'm half as young as he.
" X and Y yawned sleepily, "Look at the time!" they said.
"Let's all get off to beddy byes.
" They did, then "Z-z-z.
"
Written by Sylvia Plath | Create an image from this poem

An Appearance

 The smile of iceboxes annihilates me.
Such blue currents in the veins of my loved one! I hear her great heart purr.
From her lips ampersands and percent signs Exit like kisses.
It is Monday in her mind: morals Launder and present themselves.
What am I to make of these contradictions? I wear white cuffs, I bow.
Is this love then, this red material Issuing from the steele needle that flies so blindingly? It will make little dresses and coats, It will cover a dynasty.
How her body opens and shuts -- A Swiss watch, jeweled in the hinges! O heart, such disorganization! The stars are flashing like terrible numerals.
ABC, her eyelids say.
Written by Wislawa Szymborska | Create an image from this poem

Some Like Poetry

 Write it.
Write.
In ordinary ink on ordinary paper: they were given no food, they all died of hunger.
"All.
How many? It's a big meadow.
How much grass for each one?" Write: I don't know.
History counts its skeletons in round numbers.
A thousand and one remains a thousand, as though the one had never existed: an imaginary embryo, an empty cradle, an ABC never read, air that laughs, cries, grows, emptiness running down steps toward the garden, nobody's place in the line.
We stand in the meadow where it became flesh, and the meadow is silent as a false witness.
Sunny.
Green.
Nearby, a forest with wood for chewing and water under the bark- every day a full ration of the view until you go blind.
Overhead, a bird- the shadow of its life-giving wings brushed their lips.
Their jaws opened.
Teeth clacked against teeth.
At night, the sickle moon shone in the sky and reaped wheat for their bread.
Hands came floating from blackened icons, empty cups in their fingers.
On a spit of barbed wire, a man was turning.
They sang with their mouths full of earth.
"A lovely song of how war strikes straight at the heart.
" Write: how silent.
"Yes.
"
Written by Mother Goose | Create an image from this poem

Abc

 

Great A, little a,
  Bouncing B!
The cat's in the cupboard,
  And can't see me.