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Famous Blotting Poems by Famous Poets

These are examples of famous Blotting poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous blotting poems. These examples illustrate what a famous blotting poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).

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by Benet, Stephen Vincent
...d the firelight wavers and changes about the room, 

As the three logs crackle and burn with a small still sound; 
Half-blotting with dark the deeper dark of her hair, 
Where she lies, head pillowed on arm, and one hand curved round 
To shield the white face and neck from the faint thin glare. 

Gently she breathes -- and the long limbs lie at ease, 
And the rise and fall of the young, slim, virginal breast 
Is as certain-sweet as the march of slow wind through trees, 
Or...Read More

by Arnold, Matthew
...two banks of cloud, peers pale and weak,
Now, as the barrier closes, dies away--
Even so do past and future intertwine,
Blotting this six years' space, which yet is mine.

'Six years--six little years--six drops of time!
Yet suns shall rise, and many moons shall wane,
And old men die, and young men pass their prime,
And languid pleasure fade and flower again,
And the dull Gods behold, ere these are flown,
Revels more deep, joy keener than their own.

'Into the silence...Read More

by Strode, William
...Have almost spar'd Sir Robert's Library.
His Life and th' others bookes taught but the same;
Death kils us twice in blotting twice one Name.
Give Him, and take those Reliques with consent;
Sir Rowland was a Living Monument...Read More

by Chesterton, G K>

But could my kind engross me? No!
Stern Art-what sons escape her?
Soon I was drawing Gladstone's nose
On scraps of blotting paper.

Then on-to play one-fingered tunes
Upon my aunt's piano.
In short, I have a headlong soul,
I much resemble Hanno.

(Forgive the entrance of the not
Too cogent Carthaginian.
It may have been to make a rhyme;
I lean to that opinion.)

Then my great work of book research
Till dusk I took in hand-
The forming of a final, soun...Read More

by Meredith, George
As though they caught a broken clue: 
So hard was earth an eyewink back; 
But now the common life has come, 
The blotting cloud a dappled pack, 
The grasses one vast underhum. 
A City clothed in snow and soot, 
With lamps for day in ghostly rows, 
Breaks to the scene of hosts afoot, 
The river that reflective flows: 
And there did fog down crypts of street 
Play spectre upon eye and mouth:-- 
Their faces are a glass to greet 
This magic of the whirl for South. ...Read More

by Carroll, Lewis
...e back,
In duodecimo!"

Then proudly smiled the old man
To see the eager lad
Rush madly for his pen and ink
And for his blotting-pad— 
But when he thought of publishing,
His face grew stern and sad....Read More

by Sexton, Anne>
Then dolls
and the devotion to their plactic mouths.
Then there was school,
the little straight rows of chairs,
blotting my name over and over,
but undersea all the time,
a stranger whose elbows wouldn't work.
Then there was life
with its cruel houses
and people who seldom touched-
though touch is all-
but I grew,
like a pig in a trenchcoat I grew,
and then there were many strange apparitions,
the nagging rain, the sun turning into poison
and all of that, saws wor...Read More

by Thoreau, Henry David
...and shadowy form
Of midnight vision, gathering up thy skirts;
By night star-veiling, and by day
Darkening the light and blotting out the sun;
Go thou my incense upward from this hearth,
And ask the gods to pardon this clear flame....Read More

by Arnold, Matthew
...ling cauldron broods. 

Swift rush the spectral vapours white
Past limestone scars with ragged pines,
Showing--then blotting from our sight!--
Halt--through the cloud-drift something shines!
High in the valley, wet and drear,
The huts of Courrerie appear. 

Strike leftward! cries our guide; and higher
Mounts up the stony forest-way.
At last the encircling trees retire;
Look! through the showery twilight grey
What pointed roofs are these advance?--
A palace of the ...Read More

by Graves, Robert
...Love is universal migraine,
A bright stain on the vision
Blotting out reason. 

Symptoms of true love
Are leanness, jealousy,
Laggard dawns; 

Are omens and nightmares -
Listening for a knock,
Waiting for a sign: 

For a touch of her fingers
In a darkened room,
For a searching look. 

Take courage, lover!
Could you endure such pain
At any hand but hers?...Read More

by Voznesensky, Andrei
...There is Bukashkin, our neighbor, 
 in underpants of blotting paper, 
 and, like balloons, the Antiworlds 
 hang up above him in the vaults. 

 Up there, like a magic daemon, 
 he smartly rules the Universe, 
 Antibukashkin lies there giving 
 Lollobrigida a caress. 

 The Anti-great-academician 
 has got a blotting paper vision. 

 Long live creative Antiworlds, 
 great fantasy amidst daft words! ...Read More

by Benet, Stephen Vincent
.... . . See, Bel's waked. They'll catch it now! 

. . . Eternally that stifling reek arises, 
Blotting the dome with smoky, terrible towers, 
Black, strangling trees, whispering obscene things 
Amongst their branches, clutching with maimed hands, 
Or oozing slowly, like blind tentacles 
Up to the gates; higher than that heaped brick 
Man piled to smite the sun. And all around 
Are devils. One can laugh . . . but that hunched shape...Read More

by Kipling, Rudyard
...wet, wet clay
When the artist's hand is potting it.
There is pleasure in the wet, wet lay --
When the poet's pad is blotting it.
There is pleasure in the shine of your picture on the line
At the Royal Acade-my;
But the pleasure felt in these is as chalk to Cheddar cheese
When it comes to a well-made Lie--

 To a quite unwreckable Lie,
 To a most impeccable Lie!
 To a water-right, fire-proof, angle-iron, sunk-hinge, time-lock,
 steel-faced Lie!
 Not a private handsome ...Read More

by Crowley, Aleister
...So, I am off with staff in hand 
To the endless light of the nameless land. 

Darkness spreads its sombre streams, 
Blotting out the elfin dreams. 
I might haply be afraid, 
Were it not the Feather-maid 
Leads me softly by the hand, 
Whispers me to understand. 
Now (when through the world of weeping 
Light at last starrily creeping 
Steals upon my babe-new sight, 
Light - O light that is not light!) 
On my mouth the lips of her 
Like a stone on my sepulchre 
Seal ...Read More

by Poe, Edgar Allan
...Of all who hail thy presence as the morning-
Of all to whom thine absence is the night-
The blotting utterly from out high heaven
The sacred sun- of all who, weeping, bless thee
Hourly for hope- for life- ah! above all,
For the resurrection of deep-buried faith
In Truth- in Virtue- in Humanity-
Of all who, on Despair's unhallowed bed
Lying down to die, have suddenly arisen
At thy soft-murmured words, "Let there be light!"
At the soft-murmured words...Read More

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