Famous Bloodied Poems by Famous Poets
These are examples of famous Bloodied poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous bloodied poems. These examples illustrate what a famous bloodied poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).
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...rs, would hold up that earth-hall
from within forever. Then thane beyond good
with his hands laved the famous prince, bloodied,
his own friendly lord with water, exhausted
by battle, and unbuckled his helmet. (2711b-23)
Beowulf made a speech, speaking despite his injury,
the wound deadly pale. He knew readily that
he had endured all of the days of his life,
his joys upon earth. They were all fleeing away,
the count of his days, death immeasurably close by:
“Now I ...Read more of this...
by
Anonymous,
...ctors in a theater on fire,
With birds circling over our heads,
The dark pines strangely still,
Each rock we stepped on bloodied by the sunset.
We were back on our terrace sipping wine.
Why always this hint of an unhappy ending?
Clouds of almost human appearance
Gathering on the horizon, but the rest lovely
With the air so mild and the sea untroubled.
The night suddenly upon us, a starless night.
You lighting a candle, carrying it naked
Into our bedroom and blowing it out q...Read more of this...
by
Simic, Charles
...she
Alecto, wailing: and Tisiphone
Midmost."
These hateful, in their need of prey,
Tore their own breasts with bloodied claws, and when
They saw me, from the living world of men,
Beneath them standing, with one purpose they
Cried, and so loudly that I shrank for fear,
"Medusa! let her from her place appear,
To change him into stone! Our first default
That venged no wrath on Theseus' deep assault,
So brings him."
"Turn thou from their sight," my guide ...Read more of this...
by
Alighieri, Dante
...ought up from bakeries, baked in the kitchen:
the date, the latitude, tell which one was
dropped by a child beneath the bloodied branches.
The uncontrolled and multifurcate branches
of possibility infiltrate houses'
walls, windowframes, ceilings. Where there was
a tower, a town: ash and burnt wires, a graph
on a distant computer screen. Elsewhere, a kitchen
table's setting gapes, where children bred
to branch into new lives were culled for war.
Who wore this starched smock...Read more of this...
by
Hacker, Marilyn
...ree,
To change my name, to darkly thrive
By hook or crook at thirty-five.
O silent dark and beastly wood
Where with my bloodied hands I stood!
O piteous child I raped and slew!
Had she been yours, would you and you
Have pardoned me and set me free,
Majority of twenty-three?
Yet by your solemn vote you willed
I shall not die though I have killed;
Although I did no mercy show,
In mercy you will let me go. . . .
That he who kills and does not pay
May live to kill another day.
...Read more of this...
by
Service, Robert William
...s
And it exhausts me to watch you
Flickering like that, wrinkly and clear red, like the skin of a mouth.
A mouth just bloodied.
Little bloody skirts!
There are fumes I cannot touch.
Where are your opiates, your nauseous capsules?
If I could bleed, or sleep! -
If my mouth could marry a hurt like that!
Or your liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule,
Dulling and stilling.
But colorless. Colorless....Read more of this...
by
Plath, Sylvia
...ng,
with raging heroism defying
even the sensation of dying.
And one has fallen
but still above the town
his torn-out, bloodied feathers drift down;
and what he sung
no matter. He is flung
on the gray ash-heap, lies in dung
with his dead wives
with open, bloody eyes,
while those metallic feathers oxidize.
St. Peter's sin
was worse than that of Magdalen
whose sin was of the flesh alone;
of spirit, Peter's,
falling, beneath the flares,
among the "servants and officers."
...Read more of this...
by
Bishop, Elizabeth
...final hour.
Village of the Tsar Statue
Upon the swan pond maple leaves
Are gathered already, you see,
And bloodied are the branches dark
Of slowly blooming quicken-tree.
Blindingly elegant is she,
Crossing her legs that don't feel cold
Upon the northern stone sits she
And calmly looks upon the road.
I felt the gloomy, dusky fear
Before this woman of delight
As on her shoulders played alone
The rays of miserable light.
And how could I forgive her ...Read more of this...
by
Akhmatova, Anna
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