10 Best Famous Distort Poems

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

• All Famous Distort Poems

 Seventy years ago my mother labored to bear me,
A twelve-pound baby with a big head,
Her first, it was plain torture. Finally they used the forceps
And dragged me out, with one prong
In my right eye, and slapped and banged me until I breathed.
I am not particularly grateful for it.

As to the eye: it remained invalid and now has a cataract.
It can see gods and spirits in its cloud,
And the weird end of the world: the left one's for common daylight.

As to my mother:
A rather beautiful young woman married to a grim clergyman
Twenty-two years older than she:
She had her little innocent diversions, her little travels in Europe—
And once for scandal kissed the Pope's ring—
Perhaps her life was no emptier than other lives. Both parents
Swim in my blood and distort my thought but the old man's welcome.

 Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make,
Of all that strong divineness which I know
For thine and thee, an image only so
Formed of the sand, and fit to shift and break.
It is that distant years which did not take
Thy sovranty, recoiling with a blow,
Have forced my swimming brain to undergo
Their doubt and dread, and blindly to forsake
Thy purity of likeness and distort
Thy worthiest love to a worthless counterfeit:
As if a shipwrecked Pagan, safe in port,
His guardian sea-god to commemorate,
Should set a sculptured porpoise, gills a-snort
And vibrant tail, within the temple-gate.

 with landbound legs a wish
for the easy flow of a river - not 
the clambering up crags to seek 
more favour from the sun
(or long-haired moon) harped for
since those sparks of who am i 
first clicked through consciousness

how the river sidles round 
rocks blocking the painful straight
seems to brush aside
all snags disrupting its ambition
to be sea - certain from its source
downwardness is good - legs don’t have 
that gift (being boned with doubt)

rivers in their waywardness 
become a rattling cage of tigers 
when the storm god snarls
legs are happy then 
to have hard ground to run away on
legs and rivers you could say
should show compassion for each other

as if legs themselves aren’t rivers
when (from hip to toe) the energy 
runs down from impulses
the high brain sources - summer’s joys
or winter’s nobbling aches
make the same ground safe
or fearful - as when the river legs it

legs or rivers - the game’s alike
seasons distort the flow
in age the river’s more appealing
(legs have a way of silting up)
after the high ground’s turmoils
you hope for the sanctity of meadows
a kind of green relief

legs feed on past dreams (now
kick a ball the leg drops off)
rivers are geared to what comes next
even in the sea’s maw 
hope is on their lips (ever) - legs
rest on their elegiac laurels
with the weight off them they flow best