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Best Famous Rebelled Poems

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

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Written by Victor Hugo | Create an image from this poem

First Love

 ("Vous êtes singulier.") 
 
 {MARION DELORME, Act I., June, 1829, played 1831.} 
 
 MARION (smiling.) You're strange, and yet I love you thus. 
 
 DIDIER. You love me? 
 Beware, nor with light lips utter that word. 
 You love me!—know you what it is to love 
 With love that is the life-blood in one's veins, 
 The vital air we breathe, a love long-smothered, 
 Smouldering in silence, kindling, burning, blazing, 
 And purifying in its growth the soul. 
 A love that from the heart eats every passion 
 But its sole self; love without hope or limit, 
 Deep love that will outlast all happiness; 
 Speak, speak; is such the love you bear me? 
 
 MARION. Truly. 
 
 DIDIER. Ha! but you do not know how I love you! 
 The day that first I saw you, the dark world 
 Grew shining, for your eyes lighted my gloom. 
 Since then, all things have changed; to me you are 
 Some brightest, unknown creature from the skies. 
 This irksome life, 'gainst which my heart rebelled, 
 Seems almost fair and pleasant; for, alas! 
 Till I knew you wandering, alone, oppressed, 
 I wept and struggled, I had never loved. 
 
 FANNY KEMBLE-BUTLER. 


 






Written by Denise Duhamel | Create an image from this poem

Snow Whites Acne

 At first she was sure it was just a bit of dried strawberry juice,
or a fleck of her mother's red nail polish that had flaked off
when she'd patted her daughter to sleep the night before.
But as she scrubbed, Snow felt a bump, something festering
under the surface, like a tapeworm curled up and living
in her left cheek.
 Doc the Dwarf was no dermatologist
and besides Snow doesn't get to meet him in this version
because the mint leaves the tall doctor puts over her face
only make matters worse. Snow and the Queen hope
against hope for chicken pox, measles, something
that would be gone quickly and not plague Snow's whole
adolescence.
 If only freckles were red, she cried, if only
concealer really worked. Soon came the pus, the yellow dots,
multiplying like pins in a pin cushion. Soon came
the greasy hair. The Queen gave her daughter a razor
for her legs and a stick of underarm deodorant.
 Snow
doodled through her teenage years—"Snow + ?" in Magic
Markered hearts all over her notebooks. She was an average
student, a daydreamer who might have been a scholar
if she'd only applied herself. She liked sappy music
and romance novels. She liked pies and cake
instead of fruit.
 The Queen remained the fairest in the land.
It was hard on Snow, having such a glamorous mom.
She rebelled by wearing torn shawls and baggy gowns.
Her mother would sometimes say, "Snow darling,
why don't you pull back your hair? Show those pretty eyes?"
or "Come on, I'll take you shopping."
 Snow preferred
staying in her safe room, looking out of her window
at the deer leaping across the lawn. Or she'd practice
her dance moves with invisible princes. And the Queen,
busy being Queen, didn't like to push it.
Written by Thomas Hardy | Create an image from this poem

The Church-Builder

 The church flings forth a battled shade 
Over the moon-blanched sward: 
The church; my gift; whereto I paid 
My all in hand and hoard; 
Lavished my gains 
With stintless pains 
To glorify the Lord. 

I squared the broad foundations in 
Of ashlared masonry; 
I moulded mullions thick and thin, 
Hewed fillet and ogee; 
I circleted 
Each sculptured head 
With nimb and canopy. 

I called in many a craftsmaster 
To fix emblazoned glass, 
To figure Cross and Sepulchure 
On dossal, boss, and brass. 
My gold all spent, 
My jewels went 
To gem the cups of Mass. 

I borrowed deep to carve the screen 
And raise the ivoried Rood; 
I parted with my small demesne 
To make my owings good. 
Heir-looms unpriced 
I sacrificed, 
Until debt-free I stood. 

So closed the task. "Deathless the Creed 
Here substanced!" said my soul: 
"I heard me bidden to this deed, 
And straight obeyed the call. 
Illume this fane, 
That not in vain 
I build it, Lord of all!" 

But, as it chanced me, then and there 
Did dire misfortunes burst; 
My home went waste for lack of care, 
My sons rebelled and curst; 
Till I confessed 
That aims the best 
Were looking like the worst. 

Enkindled by my votive work 
No burnng faith I find; 
The deeper thinkers sneer and smirk, 
And give my toil no mind; 
From nod and wink 
I read they think 
That I am fool and blind. 

My gift to God seems futile, quite; 
The world moves as erstwhile; 
And powerful Wrong on feeble Right 
Tramples in olden style. 
My faith burns down, 
I see no crown; 
But Cares, and Griefs, and Guile. 

So now, the remedy? Yea, this: 
I gently swing the door 
Here, of my fane--no soul to wis-- 
And cross the patterned floor 
To the rood-screen 
That stands between 
The nave and inner chore. 

The rich red windows dim the moon, 
But little light need I; 
I mount the prie-dieu, lately hewn 
From woods of rarest dye; 
Then from below 
My garment, so, 
I draw this cord, and tie 

One end thereof around the beam 
Midway 'twixt Cross and truss: 
I noose the nethermost extreme, 
And in ten seconds thus 
I journey hence-- 
To that land whence 
No rumour reaches us. 

Well: Here at morn they'll light on one 
Dangling in mockery 
Of what he spent his substance on 
Blindly and uselessly!... 
"He might," they'll say, 
"Have built, some way, 
A cheaper gallows-tree!"
Written by David Lehman | Create an image from this poem

May 26

 In Rotterdam I'm
going to speak about
the state of poetry
on a panel with a Pole
and a Turk. It's worth
being alive to utter
that sentence. A
German from Furth,
my father's home town
and Henry Kissinger's,
will preside. His name
is Joachim Sartorius,
which sounds like a
pseudonym Kierkegaard
might use to condemn
the habits of his age
and ours when nothing
ever happens but the
publicity is immediate
and the town meeting
ends with the people
convinced they have
rebelled so now they
can go home quietly
having spent a most
pleasant evening
Written by Emily Dickinson | Create an image from this poem

I could suffice for Him I knew --

 I could suffice for Him, I knew --
He -- could suffice for Me --
Yet Hesitating Fractions -- Both
Surveyed Infinity --

"Would I be Whole" He sudden broached --
My syllable rebelled --
'Twas face to face with Nature -- forced --
'Twas face to face with God --

Withdrew the Sun -- to Other Wests --
Withdrew the furthest Star
Before Decision -- stooped to speech --
And then -- be audibler

The Answer of the Sea unto
The Motion of the Moon --
Herself adjust Her Tides -- unto --
Could I -- do else -- with Mine?



Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry