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Best Famous Pros Poems

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

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Written by Sharon Olds | Create an image from this poem

Sex Without Love

 How do they do it, the ones who make love
without love? Beautiful as dancers,
gliding over each other like ice-skaters
over the ice, fingers hooked
inside each other's bodies, faces
red as steak, wine, wet as the
children at birth whose mothers are going to
give them away. How do they come to the
come to the come to the God come to the
still waters, and not love
the one who came there with them, light
rising slowly as steam off their joined
skin? These are the true religious,
the purists, the pros, the ones who will not
accept a false Messiah, love the
priest instead of the God. They do not
mistake the lover for their own pleasure,
they are like great runners: they know they are alone
with the road surface, the cold, the wind,
the fit of their shoes, their over-all cardio-
vascular health--just factors, like the partner
in the bed, and not the truth, which is the
single body alone in the universe
against its own best time.


Written by Andrew Barton Paterson | Create an image from this poem

The Bushfire - an Allegory

 'Twas on the famous Empire run, 
Whose sun does never set, 
Whose grass and water, so they say, 
Have never failed them yet -- 
They carry many million sheep, 
Through seasons dry and wet. 
They call the homestead Albion House, 
And then, along with that, 
There's Welshman's Gully, Scotchman's Hill, 
And Paddymelon Flat: 
And all these places are renowned 
For making jumbacks fat. 

And the out-paddocks -- holy frost! 
There wouldn't be no sense 
For me to try and tell you half -- 
They really are immense; 
A man might ride for days and weeks 
And never strike a fence. 

But still for years they never had 
Been known a sheep to lose; 
Old Billy Gladstone managed it, 
And you can bet your shoes 
He'd scores of supers under him, 
And droves of jackaroos. 

Old Billy had an eagle eye, 
And kept his wits about -- 
If any chaps got trespassing 
He quickly cleared 'em out; 
And coves that used to "work a cross", 
They hated him, no doubt. 

But still he managed it in style, 
Until the times got dry, 
And Billy gave the supers word 
To see and mind their eye -- 
"If any paddocks gets a-fire 
I'll know the reason why." 

Now on this point old Bill was sure, 
Because, for many a year, 
Whenever times got dry at all, 
As sure as you are here, 
The Paddymelon Flat got burnt 
Which Bill thought rather *****. 

He sent his smartest supers there 
To try and keep things right. 
No use! The grass was always dry -- 
They'd go to sleep at night, 
And when they woke they'd go and find 
The whole concern alight. 

One morning it was very hot -- 
The sun rose in a haze; 
Old Bill was cutting down some trees 
(One of his little ways); 
A black boy came hot-foot to say 
The Flat was in a blaze. 

Old Bill he swears a fearful oath 
And lets the tommy fall -- 
Says he: "'ll take this business up, 
And fix it once for all; 
If this goes on the cursed run 
Will send us to the wall." 

So he withdrew his trespass suits, 
He'd one with Dutchy's boss -- 
In prosecutions criminal 
He entered nolle pros., 
But these were neither here nor there -- 
They always meant a loss. 

And off to Paddymelon Flat 
He started double quick 
Drayloads of men with lots of grog 
Lest heat should make them sick, 
And all the strangers came around 
To see him do the trick. 

And there the fire was flaming bright, 
For miles and miles it spread, 
And many a sheep and horse and cow 
Were numbered with the dead -- 
The super came to meet Old Bill, 
And this is what he said: 

"No use, to try to beat it out, 
'Twill dry you up like toast, 
I've done as much as man can do, 
Although I never boast; 
I think you'd better chuck it up, 
And let the jumbucks roast." 

Then Bill said just two words: "You're sacked," 
And pitches off his coat, 
And wrenches down a blue gum bough 
And clears his manly throat, 
And into it like threshing wheat 
Right sturdily he smote. 

And beat the blazing grass until 
His shirt was dripping wet; 
And all the people watched him there 
To see what luck he'd get, 
"Gosh! don't he make the cinders fly," 
And, Golly, don't he sweat!" 

But though they worked like Trojans all, 
The fire still went ahead 
So far as you could see around, 
The very skies were red, 
Sometimes the flames would start afresh, 
Just where they thought it dead. 

His men, too, quarreled 'mongst themselves 
And some coves gave it best 
And some said, "Light a fire in front, 
And burn from east to west" -- 
But Bill he still kept sloggin' in, 
And never took no rest. 

Then through the crowd a cornstalk kid 
Come ridin' to the spot 
Says he to Bill, "Now take a spell, 
You're lookin' very 'ot, 
And if you'll only listen, why, 
I'll tell you what is what. 

"These coves as set your grass on fire, 
There ain't no mortal doubt, 
I've seen 'em ridin' here and there, 
And pokin' round about; 
It ain't no use your workin' here, 
Until you finds them out. 

"See yonder, where you beat the fire -- 
It's blazin' up again, 
And fires are starting right and left 
On Tipperary Plain, 
Beating them out is useless quite, 
Unless Heaven sends the rain. 

Then Bill, he turns upon the boy, 
"Oh, hold your tongue, you pup!" 
But a cinder blew across the creek 
While Bill stopped for a sup, 
And fired the Albion paddocks, too -- 
It was a bitter cup; 
Old Bill's heart was broke at last, 
He had to chuck it up. 


Moral 

The run is England's Empire great, 
The fire is the distress 
That burns the stock they represent -- 
Prosperity you'll guess. 
And the blue gum bough is the Home Rule Bill 
That's making such a mess. 

And Ireland green, of course I mean 
By Paddymelon Flat; 
All men can see the fire, of course, 
Spreads on at such a bat, 
But who are setting it alight, 
I cannot tell you that. 

But this I think all men will see, 
And hold it very true -- 
"Don't quarrel with effects until 
The cause is brought to view." 
What is the cause? That cornstalk boy -- 
He seemed to think he knew.
Written by Sophie Hannah | Create an image from this poem

The Pros and Cons

 He’ll be pleased if I phone to ask him how he is.
It will make me look considerate and he likes considerate people.

He’ll be reassured to see that I haven’t lost interest,
Which might make him happy and then I’ll have done him a favour.

If I phone him right now I’ll get to speak to him sooner
Than I will if I sit around waiting for him to phone me.

He might not want to phone me from work in case someone hears
And begins (or continues) to suspect that there’s something
Between us.

If I want to and don’t, aren’t I being a bit immature?
We’re both adults. Does it matter, with adults, who makes the
First move?

But there’s always the chance he’ll back off if I come on too strong.
The less keen I appear, the more keen he’s likely to be,

And I phoned him twice on Thursday and once on Friday.
He must therefore be fully aware that it’s his turn, not mine.

If I make it too easy for him, he’ll assume I’m too easy,
While if I make no effort, that leaves him with more of a challenge.

I should demonstrate that I have a sense of proportion.
His work must come first for a while and I shouldn’t’ mind waiting.

For all I know he could have gone off me already
And if I don’t phone I can always say, later, that I went off him first.

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry