Get Your Premium Membership

Best Famous Phonetic Poems

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

Search and read the best famous Phonetic poems, articles about Phonetic poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Phonetic poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:
Written by Heather McHugh | Create an image from this poem

Ghoti

 The gh comes from rough, the o from women's,
and the ti from unmentionables--presto:
there's the perfect English instance of
unlovablility--complete

with fish. Our wish was for a better
revelation: for a correspondence--
if not lexical, at least
phonetic; if not with Madonna

then at least with Mary Magdalene.
Instead we get the sheer
opacity of things: an accident
of incident, a tracery of history: the dung

inside the dungarees, the jock strap for a codpiece, and
the ruined patches bordering the lip. One boot (high-heeled) could make
Sorrento sorry, Capri corny, even little Italy
a little ill. Low-cased, a lover looks

one over--eggs without ease, semen without oars--
and there, on board, tricked out in fur and fin,
the landlubber who wound up captain. Where's it going,
this our (H)MS? More west? More forth? The quest

itself is at a long and short behest: it's wound
in winds. (Take rough from seas, and women from the shore,
unmentionables out of mind). We're here
for something rich, beyond

appearances. What do I mean? (What can one say?)
A minute of millenium, unculminating
stint, a stonishment: my god, what's
utterable? Gargah, gatto, goat. Us animals is made

to seine and trawl and drag and gaff
our way across the earth. The earth, it rolls.
We dig, lay lines, book arguably
perfect passages. But earth remains untranslated,

unplumbed. A million herring run where we
catch here a freckle, there a pock; the depths to which things live
words only glint at. Terns in flight work up
what fond minds might

call syntax. As for that
semantic antic in the distance, is it
whiskered fish, finned cat? Don't settle
just for two. Some bottomographies are

brooded over, and some skies swum through. . .


Written by Razvan Tupa | Create an image from this poem

the stars speak in your tongue

A Romanian body is the other 
to whom you transfer all that you are 

you always had a cousin at school who’d seen who’d done it all 
he was the Romanian body for each of us 
who’d trafficked in luxury cars for each of us 
as our debt as our possibility 
the same for any fear in the hair on the back of your neck 

maybe one or maybe many 
whom you dreamed and 
this dream is what you’ve been doing 
since you woke up till late at night 

then at a very clear moment 
my phonetic shadow falls everywhere 
with a breeze of touch 

maybe one or maybe many tongues stuck out 
into the air our duty is pleasure 
slowly on the roof of our mouths the stars 
will shine 

translated by Adam J. Sorkin and the poet

Book: Reflection on the Important Things