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Best Famous Wracks Poems

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

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Written by Carl Sandburg | Create an image from this poem

Among the Red Guns

 After waking at dawn one morning when the wind sang
low among dry leaves in an elm

AMONG the red guns,
In the hearts of soldiers
Running free blood
In the long, long campaign:
Dreams go on.

Among the leather saddles,
In the heads of soldiers
Heavy in the wracks and kills
Of all straight fighting:
Dreams go on.

Among the hot muzzles,
In the hands of soldiers
Brought from flesh-folds of women--
Soft amid the blood and crying--
In all your hearts and heads
Among the guns and saddles and muzzles:

Dreams,
Dreams go on,
Out of the dead on their backs,
Broken and no use any more:
Dreams of the way and the end go on.


Written by Andrew Marvell | Create an image from this poem

Bermudas

 Where the remote Bermudas ride
In th' Oceans bosome unespy'd,
From a small Boat, that row'd along,
The listning Winds receiv'd this Song.
What should we do but sing his Praise
That led us through the watry Maze,
Unto an Isle so long unknown,
And yet far kinder than our own?
Where he the huge Sea-Monsters wracks,
That lift the Deep upon their Backs.
He lands us on a grassy stage;
Safe from the Storms, and Prelat's rage.
He gave us this eternal Spring,
Which here enamells every thing;
And sends the Fowl's to us in care,
On daily Visits through the Air,
He hangs in shades the Orange bright,
Like golden Lamps in a green Night.
And does in the Pomgranates close,
Jewels more rich than Ormus show's.
He makes the Figs our mouths to meet;
And throws the Melons at our feet.
But Apples plants of such a price,
No Tree could ever bear them twice.
With Cedars, chosen by his hand,
From Lebanon, he stores the Land.
And makes the hollow Seas, that roar,
Proclaime the Ambergris on shoar.
He cast (of which we rather boast)
The Gospels Pearl upon our coast.
And in these Rocks for us did frame
A Temple, where to sound his Name.
Oh let our Voice his Praise exalt,
Till it arrive at Heavens Vault:
Which thence (perhaps) rebounding, may
Eccho beyond the Mexique Bay.
Thus sung they, in the English boat,
An holy and a chearful Note,
And all the way, to guide their Chime,
With falling Oars they kept the time.
Written by Anne Killigrew | Create an image from this poem

Cloris Charmes Dissolved by EUDORA

 NOt that thy Fair Hand 
Should lead me from my deep Dispaire, 
Or thy Love, Cloris, End my Care, 
 And back my Steps command: 
But if hereafter thou Retire, 
To quench with Tears, thy Wandring Fire, 
 This Clue I'll leave behinde, 
 By which thou maist untwine
 The Saddest Way, 
 To shun the Day,
 That ever Grief did find. 

II. 
 First take thy Hapless Way
Along the Rocky Northern Shore, 
Infamous for the Matchless Store
 Of Wracks within that Bay. 
None o're the Cursed Beach e're crost, 
Unless the Robb'd, the Wrack'd, or Lost
 Where on the Strand lye spread, 
 The Sculls of many Dead. 
 Their mingl'd Bones, 
 Among the Stones, 
 Thy Wretched Feet must tread. 
III. 
 The Trees along the Coast, 
Stretch forth to Heaven their blasted Arms, 
As if they plaind the North-winds harms, 
 And Youthful Verdure lost. 
There stands a Grove of Fatal Ewe, 
Where Sun nere pierc't, nor Wind ere blew. 
 In it a Brooke doth fleet, 
 The Noise must guide thy Feet, 

 For there's no Light, 
 But all is Night, 
 And Darkness that you meet. 

IV. 
 Follow th'Infernal Wave, 
Until it spread into a Floud, 
Poysoning the Creatures of the Wood, 
 There twice a day a Slave, 
I know not for what Impious Thing, 
Bears thence the Liquor of that Spring. 
 It adds to the sad Place, 
 To hear how at each Pace, 
 He curses God,
 Himself, his Load, 
 For such his Forlorn Case. 
V. 
 Next make no Noyse, nor talk, 
Until th'art past a Narrow Glade, 
Where Light does only break the Shade; 
 'Tis a Murderers Walk. 
Observing this thou need'st not fear, 
He sleeps the Day or Wakes elsewhere. 

 Though there's no Clock or Chime, 
 The Hour he did his Crime, 
 His Soul awakes, 
 His Conscience quakes
 And warns him that's the Time. 

VI. 
 Thy Steps must next advance, 
Where Horrour, Sin, and Spectars dwell, 
Where the Woods Shade seems turn'd Hell, 
 Witches here Nightly Dance, 
And Sprights joyn with them when they call, 
The Murderer dares not view the Ball. 
 For Snakes and Toads conspire, 
 To make them up a Quire. 
 And for their Light, 
 And Torches bright, 
 The Fiends dance all on fire. 
VII. 
 Press on till thou descrie
Among the Trees sad, gastly, wan, 
Thinne as the Shadow of a Man, 
 One that does ever crie, 

She is not; and she ne're will be, 
Despair and Death come swallow me,
 Leave him; and keep thy way, 
 No more thou now canst stray
 Thy Feet do stand, 
 In Sorrows Land, 
 It's Kingdomes every way. 

VIII. 
 Here Gloomy Light will shew 
Reard like a Castle to the Skie, 
A Horrid Cliffe there standing nigh
 Shading a Creek below. 
In which Recess there lies a Cave, 
Dreadful as Hell, still as the Grave. 
 Sea-Monsters there abide, 
 The coming of the Tide, 
 No Noise is near, 
 To make them fear, 
God-sleep might there reside. 

IX. 
 But when the Boysterous Seas, 
With Roaring Waves resumes this Cell, 
You'd swear the Thunders there did dwell. 
 So lowd he makes his Plea; 
So Tempests bellow under ground, 
And Ecchos multiply the Sound! 
 This is the place I chose, 
 Changeable like my Woes, 
 Now calmly Sad, 
 Then Raging Mad, 
 As move my Bitter Throwes. 
X. 
 Such Dread besets this Part, 
That all the Horrour thou hast past, 
Are but Degrees to This at last. 
 The sight must break my Heart. 
Here Bats and Owles that hate the Light
Fly and enjoy Eternal Night. 
 Scales of Serpents, Fish-bones, 
 Th'Adders Eye, and Toad-stones, 
 Are all the Light, 
 Hath blest my Sight, 
 Since first began my Groans. 

XI. 
 When thus I lost the Sense, 
Of all the heathful World calls Bliss, 
And held it Joy, those Joys to miss, 
 When Beauty was Offence: 
Celestial Strains did read the Aire, 
Shaking these Mansions of Despaire; 
 A Form Divine and bright, 
 Stroke Day through all that Night
 As when Heav'ns Queen
 In Hell was seen, 
 With wonder and affright ! 
XII. 
 The Monsters fled for fear, 
The Terrors of the Cursed Wood
Dismantl'd were, and where they stood, 
 No longer did appear. 
The Gentle Pow'r, which wrought this thing, 
Eudora was, who thus did sing. 
 Dissolv'd is Cloris spell, 
 From whence thy Evils fell, 
 Send her this Clue, 
 'Tis there most due
 And thy Phantastick Hell.
Written by Robert Burns | Create an image from this poem

345. Song—Frae the friends and land I love

 FRAE the friends and land I love,
 Driv’n by Fortune’s felly spite;
Frae my best belov’d I rove,
 Never mair to taste delight:
Never mair maun hope to find
 Ease frae toil, relief frae care;
When Remembrance wracks the mind,
 Pleasures but unveil despair.


Brightest climes shall mirk appear,
 Desert ilka blooming shore,
Till the Fates, nae mair severe,
 Friendship, love, and peace restore,
Till Revenge, wi’ laurel’d head,
 Bring our banished hame again;
And ilk loyal, bonie lad
 Cross the seas, and win his ain.
Written by Rg Gregory | Create an image from this poem

the ordinary again

 (1) the ordinary

you are not interested in me
a receiver of food and a giver of ****
my brain knuckled under

i have rendered the skills of my 
limbs to generations of caesars
and caesar's gods have siphoned off my spirit
by day i have been trained to dismember my own brothers
my own pieces travel through the night yearning for union

in every land i am the bulk
the bricks you build with
in every land mine is the back that bends
the face that gets shoved in the earth

i am told how costly it is to allow me to breathe
i am not told how much your palaces (private or stately) depend on
 my breathing
i must eat so that i may be eaten
i must labour so that others may find space for their estates

i am grasses told to lie down as lawn
i am shrubs being clipped into hedges
i am weeds being torn out of lines

i am dirt being churned into mud
i am mat that must always be shaken

but choke me i must breathe
crush me i must rise
wipe me out i am everywhere

whip me my blood runs into air
destroy me i shall run out of doors
my fingers root in the earth and shoot stars


(2) loud hosannas (and a bowl of cherries) to the ordinary

ordinary holds the world
in a hat - it is a grey hat
(grey - if you can but see it -
is the brightest of colours)
the world hates its grey sky
endlessly moaning
 what a gloomy day
 how mediocre
but ordinary holds the world

it's about time someone
gave loud hosannas
(and a bowl of cherries)
to the ordinary
without it the sky
loses its air
fields give up grass
meals do without salt
bodies have no skin
blood mourns its arteries
language has no tongue
at the foot of mountains
there is no earth

ordinary has been kicked
in the teeth (and of course
in the privates) every
second of every
minute of every
hour of every
day of every
week of every
month of every
year of existence
and every second of every
etc. ordinary sits up
a grin bubbling through
its spilled blood (and
of course keeping
its privates to itself)
and simply says
 i am i am
 i am i am i am
wham
 more 
blood and
  another
grin
etc

ordinary is where it all
started and where it is
eternally - square one the
universal square

 one or two
claim to have reached 
square one and a half - they
slip back but they
eventually slip back
their arses red
with shame
  no man can
put his foot down where
there is no banana skin

the ordinary runs
down to the sea and
without trying
encompasses all views
blends all colours
and (in the end) copes
quietly with death

poets spend a lifetime
in their songs
hoping (not daring)
to touch it
it is wellwater
the mountain spring
the stream running
throughout man
bathing his wounds
cooling his fevers
it is the untransplantable heart
it speaks all languages
it eludes science
it wracks art
it is the lavatory the fool
and the wise man share
it discerns truly

man if you are not ordinary
you are a bloated 
nothing
when you burst you spill
your ordinary intestines

and in no time
your stink is
assuaged by the stream



Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry