Famous Brash Poems by Famous Poets
These are examples of famous Brash poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous brash poems. These examples illustrate what a famous brash poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).
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by
Muhammad Ali
This is the legend of Cassius Clay,
The most beautiful fighter in the world today.
He talks a great deal, and brags indeed-y,
Of a muscular punch that's incredibly speed-y.
The fistic world was dull and weary,
but with a champ like Liston, things had to be dreary.
Then someone with color and someone with dash,
brought fight fans are runnin' with Cash.
This brash young boxer...Read more of this...
by
Sylvia Plath
(Rock Lake, Canada)
In this country there is neither measure nor balance
To redress the dominance of rocks and woods,
The passage, say, of these man-shaming clouds.
No gesture of yours or mine could catch their attention,
No word make them carry water or fire the kindling
Like local trolls in the spell of a superior being.
Well, one wearies of the Public Gardens: one wants...Read more of this...
by
Robert William Service
When I was brash and gallant-gay
Just fifty years ago,
I hit the ties and beat my way
From Maine to Mexico;
For though to Glasgow gutter bred
A hobo heart had I,
And followed where adventure led,
Beneath a brazen sky.
And as I tramped the railway track
I owned a single shirt;
Like canny Scot I bought it black
So's not to show the dirt;
A handkerchief held all...Read more of this...
by
Philip Larkin
Obedient daily dress,
You cannot always keep
That unfakable young surface.
You must learn your lines -
Anger, amusement, sleep;
Those few forbidding signs
Of the continuous coarse
Sand-laden wind, time;
You must thicken, work loose
Into an old bag
Carrying a soiled name.
Parch then; be roughened; sag;
And pardon me, that
I Could find, when you were new,
No brash festivity
To wear you at, such as
Clothes are entitled to
Till the fashion...Read more of this...
by
Robert William Service
Alas! I see that thrushes three
Are ravishing my old fig tree,
In whose green shade I smoked my pipe
And waited for the fruit to ripe;
From green to purple softly swell
Then drop into my lap to tell
That it is succulently sweet
And excellent to eat.
And now I see the crimson streak,
The greedy gash of yellow beak.
And look!...Read more of this...
by
Vachel Lindsay
Once I loved a fairy,
Queen Mab it was. Her voice
Was like a little Fountain
That bids the birds rejoice.
Her face was wise and solemn,
Her hair was brown and fine.
Her dress was pansy velvet,
A butterfly design.
To see her hover round me
Or walk the hills of air,
Awakened love's deep pulses
And boyhood's...Read more of this...
by
Delmira Agustini
SpanishLa princesita hipsipilo, la vibrátil filigrana,—Princesita ojos turquesas esculpida en porcelana—Llamó una noche a mi puerta con sus manitas de lis.Vibró el cristal de su voz como una flauta galana. —Yo sé que tu vida es gris.Yo tengo el alma de rosa, frescuras de flor temprana, Vengo de un bello país A ser tu musa y tu hermana!—Un abrazo de alabastro…luego en el...Read more of this...
by
Rg Gregory
(i)
how new the world is
trying to find
nerve in an old rind
(ii)
the bread is crumbled
for birds to swallow
rolled into droppings
flowers from the hair
of noseless statues
tyrants of parks
where men have cowered
too long and mistaken
unmanned by he dark
(iii)
when we awaken
(how have we fallen)
machines are broken
wires lie strangled
by the messages they nursed
lathes are swinging
from trees in derision
pipes burst and scalded
houses contorted
(what went on...Read more of this...
by
Jennifer Reeser
Strumming your polished guitar with long, nail-lightened fingers,
where are you now, leaning forward a peasant-dressed arm –
lark on the near side of midnight, my crescent curb lady,
ear to your sound, dangling each with a silver folk charm?
Sweet was your voice for an evening, amid the brash jazzy –
seamless soprano, your scales a tough, platinum thread.
Angel on brick, tipping jar...Read more of this...
by
James Whitcomb Riley
Tell you what I like the best --
'Long about knee-deep in June,
'Bout the time strawberries melts
On the vine, -- some afternoon
Like to jes' git out and rest,
And not work at nothin' else!
Orchard's where I'd ruther be --
Needn't fence it in fer me! --
Jes' the whole sky overhead,
And the whole airth...Read more of this...
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