Get Your Premium Membership

Best Famous Spigot Poems

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

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

See Also:
Written by Li-Young Lee | Create an image from this poem

Eating Alone

 I've pulled the last of the year's young onions.
The garden is bare now.
The ground is cold, brown and old.
What is left of the day flames in the maples at the corner of my eye.
I turn, a cardinal vanishes.
By the cellar door, I wash the onions, then drink from the icy metal spigot.
Once, years back, I walked beside my father among the windfall pears.
I can't recall our words.
We may have strolled in silence.
But I still see him bend that way-left hand braced on knee, creaky-to lift and hold to my eye a rotten pear.
In it, a hornet spun crazily, glazed in slow, glistening juice.
It was my father I saw this morning waving to me from the trees.
I almost called to him, until I came close enough to see the shovel, leaning where I had left it, in the flickering, deep green shade.
White rice steaming, almost done.
Sweet green peas fried in onions.
Shrimp braised in sesame oil and garlic.
And my own loneliness.
What more could I, a young man, want.
Credit: Copyright © 1986 by Li-Young Lee.
Reprinted with the permission of BOA Editions, Ltd.
, www.
boaeditions.
org.


Written by Charles Bukowski | Create an image from this poem

Its Ours

 there is always that space there 
just before they get to us 
that space 
that fine relaxer 
the breather 
while say 
flopping on a bed 
thinking of nothing 
or say 
pouring a glass of water from the 
spigot 
while entranced by 
nothing 

that 
gentle pure 
space 

it's worth 

centuries of 
existence 

say 

just to scratch your neck 
while looking out the window at 
a bare branch 

that space 
there 
before they get to us 
ensures 
that 
when they do 
they won't 
get it all 

ever.
Written by Emily Dickinson | Create an image from this poem

Like Rain it sounded till it curved

 Like Rain it sounded till it curved
And then I new 'twas Wind --
It walked as wet as any Wave
But swept as dry as sand --
When it had pushed itself away
To some remotest Plain
A coming as of Hosts was heard
It filled the Wells, it pleased the Pools
It warbled in the Road --
It pulled the spigot from the Hills
And let the Floods abroad --
It loosened acres, lifted seas
The sites of Centres stirred
Then like Elijah rode away
Upon a Wheel of Cloud.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things