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Best Famous Sadie Poems

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

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Written by Gwendolyn Brooks | Create an image from this poem

Sadie and Maud

 Maud went to college.
Sadie stayed home.
Sadie scraped life With a fine toothed comb.
She didn't leave a tangle in Her comb found every strand.
Sadie was one of the livingest chicks In all the land.
Sadie bore two babies Under her maiden name.
Maud and Ma and Papa Nearly died of shame.
When Sadie said her last so-long Her girls struck out from home.
(Sadie left as heritage Her fine-toothed comb.
) Maud, who went to college, Is a thin brown mouse.
She is living all alone In this old house.


Written by Philip Levine | Create an image from this poem

The New World

 A man roams the streets with a basket
of freestone peaches hollering, "Peaches,
peaches, yellow freestone peaches for sale.
" My grandfather in his prime could outshout the Tigers of Wrath or the factory whistles along the river.
Hamtramck hungered for yellow freestone peaches, downriver wakened from a dream of work, Zug Island danced into the bright day glad to be alive.
Full-figured women in their negligees streamed into the streets from the dark doorways to demand in Polish or Armenian the ripened offerings of this new world.
Josef Prisckulnick out of Dubrovitsa to Detroit by way of Ellis Island raised himself regally to his full height of five feet two and transacted until the fruit was gone into those eager hands.
Thus would there be a letter sent across an ocean and a continent, and thus would Sadie waken to the news of wealth without limit in the bright and distant land, and thus bags were packed and she set sail for America.
Some of this is true.
The women were gaunt.
All day the kids dug in the back lots searching for anything.
The place was Russia with another name.
Joe was five feet two.
Dubrovitsa burned to gray ashes the west wind carried off, then Rovno went, then the Dnieper turned to dust.
We sat around the table telling lies while the late light filled an empty glass.
Bread, onions, the smell of burning butter, small white potatoes we shared with no one because the hour was wrong, the guest was late, and this was Michigan in 1928.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things