10 Best Famous Abduction Poems

Here is a collection of the top 10 all-time best famous Abduction poems. This is a select list of the best famous Abduction poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Abduction poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of abduction poems.

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Written by James Tate | Create an image from this poem

The New Ergonomics

 The new ergonomics were delivered 
just before lunchtime 
so we ignored them.
Without revealing the particulars 
let me just say that 
lunch was most satisfying. 
Jack and Roberta went with 
the corned beef for a change. 
Jack believes in alien abduction 
and Roberta does not, 
although she has had 
several lost weekends lately 
and one or two unexplained scars 
on her buttocks. I thought 
I recognized someone
from my childhood 
at a table across the room, 
the same teeth, the same hair, 
but when he stood-up,
I wasn't sure, Squid with a red tie? 
Impossible. I finished 
my quiche lorraine 
and returned my thoughts 
to Jack's new jag:
"Well, I guess anything's 
possible. People disappear 
all the time, and most of them 
have no explanation
when and if they return. 
Look at Tony's daughter 
and she's never been the same."
Jack was looking as if 
he'd bet on the right horse now.
"And these new ergonomics, 
who really designed them?
Does anybody know?
Do they tell us anything?
A name, an address? Hell no."
Squid was paying his bill
in a standard-issue blue blazer. 
He looked across the room at me 
several times. He looked tired, 
like he wanted to sleep for a long time 
in a barn somewhere, in Kansas. 
I wanted to sleep there, too.

Written by Stanley Kunitz | Create an image from this poem

The Abduction

 Some things I do not profess 
to understand, perhaps
not wanting to, including
whatever it was they did
with you or you with them
that timeless summer day
when you stumbled out of the wood,
distracted, with your white blouse torn
and a bloodstain on your skirt.
"Do you believe?" you asked.
Between us, through the years,
we pieced enough together
to make the story real:
how you encountered on the path
a pack of sleek, grey hounds,
trailed by a dumbshow retinue
in leather shrouds; and how
you were led, through leafy ways,
into the presence of a royal stag,
flaming in his chestnut coat,
who kneeled on a swale of moss
before you; and how you were borne
aloft in triumph through the green,
streched on his rack of budding horn,
till suddenly you found yourself alone
in a trampled clearing.

That was a long time ago,
almost another age, but even now, 
when I hold you in my arms, 
I wonder where you are.
Sometimes I wake to hear
the engines of the night thrumming
outside the east bay window
on the lawn spreading to the rose garden.
You lie beside me in elegant repose,
a hint of transport hovering on your lips,
indifferent to the harsh green flares
that swivel through the room,
searchlights controlled by unseen hands.
Out there is a childhood country,
bleached faces peering in
with coals for eyes.
Our lives are spinning out
from world to world;
the shapes of things
are shifting in the wind.
What do we know
beyond the rapture and the dread?
Written by Edward Taylor | Create an image from this poem

The New Ergonomics

 The new ergonomics were delivered 
just before lunchtime 
so we ignored them.
Without revealing the particulars 
let me just say that 
lunch was most satisfying. 
Jack and Roberta went with 
the corned beef for a change. 
Jack believes in alien abduction 
and Roberta does not, 
although she has had 
several lost weekends lately 
and one or two unexplained scars 
on her buttocks. I thought 
I recognized someone
from my childhood 
at a table across the room, 
the same teeth, the same hair, 
but when he stood-up,
I wasn't sure, Squid with a red tie? 
Impossible. I finished 
my quiche lorraine 
and returned my thoughts 
to Jack's new jag:
"Well, I guess anything's 
possible. People disappear 
all the time, and most of them 
have no explanation
when and if they return. 
Look at Tony's daughter 
and she's never been the same."
Jack was looking as if 
he'd bet on the right horse now.
"And these new ergonomics, 
who really designed them?
Does anybody know?
Do they tell us anything?
A name, an address? Hell no."
Squid was paying his bill
in a standard-issue blue blazer. 
He looked across the room at me 
several times. He looked tired, 
like he wanted to sleep for a long time 
in a barn somewhere, in Kansas. 
I wanted to sleep there, too.
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