Best Famous Bio Poems

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

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Poems are below...



Written by Joseph Brodsky | Create an image from this poem

To Urania

 Everything has its limit, including sorrow.
A windowpane stalls a stare.
Nor does a grill abandon a leaf.
One may rattle the keys, gurgle down a swallow.
Loneless cubes a man at random.
A camel sniffs at the rail with a resentful nostril; a perspective cuts emptiness deep and even.
And what is space anyway if not the body's absence at every given point? That's why Urania's older sister Clio! in daylight or with the soot-rich lantern, you see the globe's pate free of any bio, you see she hides nothing, unlike the latter.
There they are, blueberry-laden forests, rivers where the folk with bare hands catch sturgeon or the towns in whose soggy phone books you are starring no longer; father eastward surge on brown mountain ranges; wild mares carousing in tall sedge; the cheeckbones get yellower as they turn numerous.
And still farther east, steam dreadnoughts or cruisers, and the expanse grows blue like lace underwear.
Written by Thomas Lux | Create an image from this poem

Marine Snow At Mid-Depths And Down

 As you descend, slowly, falling faster past
you this snow,
ghostly, some flakes bio-
luminescent (you plunge,
and this lit snow doesn't land
at your feet but keeps falling below
you): single-cell-plant chains, shreds
of zooplankton's mucus food traps,
fish fecal pellets, radioactive fallouts,
sand grains, pollen.
.
.
.
And inside these jagged falling islands live more microlives, which feed creatures on the way down and all the way down.
And you, in your sinking isolation booth, you go down, too, through this food-snow, these shards, bits of planet, its flora and flesh, you slip straight down, unreeled, until the bottom's oozy silt, the sucking baby-soft muck, welcomes you to the deep sea's bed, a million anvils per square inch pressing on your skull.
How silent here, how much life, few places deeper on earth, none with more width.
Written by Joseph Brodsky | Create an image from this poem

To Urania To I.K

Everything has its limit including sorrow.
A windowpane stalls a stare.
Nor does a grill abandon a leaf.
One may rattle the keys gurgle down a swallow.
Loneless cubes a man at random.
A camel sniffs at the rail with a resentful nostril; a perspective cuts emptiness deep and even.
And what is space anyway if not the body's absence at every given point? That's why Urania's older sister Clio! in daylight or with the soot-rich lantern you see the globe's pate free of any bio you see she hides nothing unlike the latter.
There they are blueberry-laden forests rivers where the folk with bare hands catch sturgeon or the towns in whose soggy phone books you are starring no longer; father eastward surge on brown mountain ranges; wild mares carousing in tall sedge; the cheeckbones get blueer as they turn numerous.
And still farther east steam dreadnoughts or cruisers and the expanse grows blue like lace underwear.