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Best Famous Sinewed Poems

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

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Written by Obi Nwakanma | Create an image from this poem

The Horsemen

for Christopher Okigbo 
Emrnanuel Ifeajuna & 
Chukwuma Nzeogwu

I

It was a room above the alcove
in a city renewed by junipers

And by desires... 

Stripped of words, 
the moments recalled; 
where the tower, 
lo, was in sight: 

memories undaunted by sound 
or flames of the amethyst, 

spoke to me; 
spoke to me like the preacher from…

I recall this moment staggering through the wind, 
when its breath hissed at the earth; 
as we leaned out of the window 
in that moment when the first light
streaked, joyous, out of the unalterable street... 

Then, tuned to the immanent choir of the grassland, 
untangling from the sea -

Then, stripped to the last detail, from her sinewed skin, 
disheveled in the light, one aria from the immaculate concertina -

before her rebirth
a tongue licked through the core of my soul


ii
Strange men in dark garments 
riding in slow, weary steps, 
paces of a far and distant journey -
in measured gestures

The clatter of hooves on the stone of the 
street; wakened from the depths of 
their tombs, long dead ghosts, 

memories of a carnage -

There was fear bred in that silence, 
nothing triumphant in their last march

nothing triumphant where 
once a plot is weaved, a rider rides 
into anonymity: 

what is it that they seek -

These silent riders? 

Glory? Memory? 

What is it that they want among those 
who have fallen from their swords? 

Piety? Ablution? Anonymity? 

It is not enough to bury the sword 
in the fold of the embrace; 
nor is it wise, even prudent, to 
seek meaning in past deeds 
when those deeds are immortal, 
or of an impure genealogy -

What do they seek in the bowel of the tide; 
in that place, where Onishe, 
spirit-mother, swallowed the ravishers of her children? 
Graves? Graves in the tide? 


iii
Theirs are troubled gestures full of potent wishes. 

…are those wishes -

for as they came, those riders, each
hoof in the ascent; 
each eye veiled by remorse, or anger or

a forlorn thought -

for as they came, weighed down by ancient baggage, 
a skin of water, a measure of wheat, some
penicillin, in case of epidemic
a stretcher to fetch the dead; 
an hourglass, and then the gloved idol, 

the one that ordered the massacre -
who rode ahead of the light; 
muttered a command: 'halt!'. 


From The Horsemen and Other Poems


Written by Dorothy Parker | Create an image from this poem

The Searched Soul

 When I consider, pro and con, 
What things my love is built upon -- 
A curly mouth; a sinewed wrist; 
A questioning brow; a pretty twist 
Of words as old and tried as sin; 
A pointed ear; a cloven chin; 
Long, tapered limbs; and slanted eyes 
Not cold nor kind nor darkly wise -- 
When so I ponder, here apart, 
What shallow boons suffice my heart, 
What dust-bound trivia capture me, 
I marvel at my normalcy.
Written by Robert Louis Stevenson | Create an image from this poem

This Gloomy Northern Day

 THIS gloomy northern day,
Or this yet gloomier night,
Has moved a something high
In my cold heart; and I,
That do not often pray,
Would pray to-night.

And first on Thee I call
For bread, O God of might!
Enough of bread for all, -
That through the famished town
Cold hunger may lie down
With none to-night.

I pray for hope no less,
Strong-sinewed hope, O Lord,
That to the struggling young
May preach with brazen tongue
Stout Labour, high success,
And bright reward.

And last, O Lord, I pray
For hearts resigned and bold
To trudge the dusty way -
Hearts stored with song and joke
And warmer than a cloak
Against the cold.

If nothing else he had,
He who has this, has all.
This comforts under pain;
This, through the stinging rain,
Keeps ragamuffin glad
Behind the wall.

This makes the sanded inn
A palace for a Prince,
And this, when griefs begin
And cruel fate annoys,
Can bring to mind the joys
Of ages since.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things