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Best Famous Exudes Poems

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

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Written by Sylvia Plath | Create an image from this poem

Nick And The Candlestick

 I am a miner. The light burns blue.
Waxy stalactites
Drip and thicken, tears

The earthen womb

Exudes from its dead boredom.
Black bat airs

Wrap me, raggy shawls,
Cold homicides.
They weld to me like plums.

Old cave of calcium
Icicles, old echoer.
Even the newts are white,

Those holy Joes.
And the fish, the fish----
Christ! They are panes of ice,

A vice of knives,
A piranha
Religion, drinking

Its first communion out of my live toes.
The candle
Gulps and recovers its small altitude,

Its yellows hearten.
O love, how did you get here?
O embryo

Remembering, even in sleep,
Your crossed position.
The blood blooms clean

In you, ruby.
The pain
You wake to is not yours.

Love, love,
I have hung our cave with roses.
With soft rugs----

The last of Victoriana.
Let the stars
Plummet to their dark address,

Let the mercuric
Atoms that cripple drip
Into the terrible well,

You are the one
Solid the spaces lean on, envious.
You are the baby in the barn.


Written by Rg Gregory | Create an image from this poem

woman

 you have gone away from yourself
you walk in a dead way
your loins have lost their sweets
your breasts deny touch
your face exudes cold pain

everything you were
now you are not

the revolution then
has nearly been successful
Written by Judith Skillman | Create an image from this poem

Night Opens to the Storm

 Poem by Anne-Marie Derése, translated by Judith Skillman.

Night opens to the storm,
a mauve coupling,
swollen. 
The sky, laden
like a merchant ship,
throws off its anchor.
Danger, heavier
each instant,
exudes the mugginess
of a greenhouse. 

Shimmering like mercury
The Valley of the Seven Muses
breathes mist
through its gray nostrils. 

The valley of has rejoined the night,
two humid females
the storm penetrates. 

And I, standing here
in the anxious wind,
I wait for the tearing apart.
Written by Walt Whitman | Create an image from this poem

Others may Praise what They Like

 OTHERS may praise what they like; 
But I, from the banks of the running Missouri, praise nothing, in art, or aught else, 
Till it has well inhaled the atmosphere of this river—also the western prairie-scent,

And fully exudes it again.

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry