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Best Famous Blurt Poems

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

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Written by Laure-Anne Bosselaar | Create an image from this poem

Dinner at the Who's Who

  amidst swirling wine 
and flickers of silver guests quote 
Dante, Brecht, Kant and each other. 

 I wait in the hall after not 
powdering my nose, trying to re-
compose that woman who’ll 

 graciously take her place 
at the table and won’t tell her hosts:
I looked into your bedroom 

 and closets, smelled your 
“Obsession” and “Brut,” sat 
on your bed, imagined you 

 in those spotless sheets, looked 
long into the sad eyes of your son
staring at your walls from his frame.

 I tried to smile at myself 
in your mirrors, wondering if you 
smile that way too: those resilient 

 little smiles one smiles 
at one’s self before facing the day, 
or another long night ahead — 

 guests coming for dinner. 
So I wait in this hall because 
there are nights it’s hard 

 not to blurt out Stop! Stop 
our babble: Pulitzer, Wall Street, sex,
Dante, politics, wars, have some Chianti...

 let’s stop and talk. Of our thirsts 
and obsessions, our bedrooms 
and closets, the brutes in our mirrors, 

 the eyes of our sons. 
There is time yet — let’s talk. 
I am starving.


Written by John Berryman | Create an image from this poem

Dream Song 18: A Strut for Roethke

 Westward, hit a low note, for a roarer lost
across the Sound but north from Bremerton,
hit a way down note.
And never cadenza again of flowers, or cost.
Him who could really do that cleared his throat
& staggered on.

The bluebells, pool-shallows, saluted his over-needs,
while the clouds growled, heh-heh, & snapped, & crashed.

No stunt he'll ever unflinch once more will fail
(O lucky fellow, eh Bones?)—drifted off upstairs,
downstairs, somewheres.
No more daily, trying to hit the head on the nail:
thirstless: without a think in his head:
back from wherever, with it said.

Hit a high long note, for a lover found
needing a lower into friendlier ground
to bug among worms no more
around um jungles where ah blurt 'What for?'
Weeds, too, he favoured as most men don't favour men.
The Garden Master's gone.

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry