Best Famous Dissipated Poems
Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Dissipated poems. This is a select list of the best famous Dissipated poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Dissipated poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of dissipated poems.
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Written by
Sergei Yesenin |
Yes! It"s settled! Now and for ever
I have left my dear old plain.
And the winged leaves of poplars will never
Ring and rustle above me again.
Our house will sag in my absence,
And my dog died a long time ago.
Me, I"m fated to die with compassions
In the crooked streets of Moscow, I know.
I admire this city of elm-trees
With decrepit buildings and homes.
Golden somnolent Asian entities
Are reposing on temple domes.
When the moonlight at night, dissipated,
Shines... like hell in the dark sky of blue!
I walk down the alley, dejected,
To the pub for a drink, maybe, two.
It"s a sinister den, harsh and roaring,
But in spite of it, all through the night
I read poems for girls that go whoring
And carouse with thieves with delight.
Now I speak but my words are quite pointless,
And the beat of my heart is fast:
"Just like you, I am totally worthless,
And I cannot re-enter the past".
Our house will sag in my absence.
And my dog died a long time ago.
Me, I"m fated to die with compassions
In the crooked streets of Moscow, I know.
1922
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Written by
Robert William Service |
A child saw in the morning skies
The dissipated-looking moon,
And opened wide her big blue eyes,
And cried: "Look, look, my lost balloon!"
And clapped her rosy hands with glee:
"Quick, mother! Bring it back to me."
A poet in a lilied pond
Espied the moon's reflected charms,
And ravished by that beauty blonde,
Leapt out to clasp her in his arms.
And as he'd never learnt to swim,
Poor fool! that was the end of him.
A rustic glimpsed amid the trees
The bluff moon caught as in a snare.
"They say it do be made of cheese,"
Said Giles, "and that a chap bides there. . . .
That Blue Boar ale be strong, I vow --
The lad's a-winkin' at me now."
Two lovers watched the new moon hold
The old moon in her bright embrace.
Said she: "There's mother, pale and old,
And drawing near her resting place."
Said he: "Be mine, and with me wed,"
Moon-high she stared . . . she shook her head.
A soldier saw with dying eyes
The bleared moon like a ball of blood,
And thought of how in other skies,
So pearly bright on leaf and bud
Like peace its soft white beams had lain;
Like Peace! . . . He closed his eyes again.
Child, lover, poet, soldier, clown,
Ah yes, old Moon, what things you've seen!
I marvel now, as you look down,
How can your face be so serene?
And tranquil still you'll make your round,
Old Moon, when we are underground.
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