Famous Deftly Poems by Famous Poets

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

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Strip Teaser

by Robert William Service
 My precious grand-child, aged two,
Is eager to unlace one shoe,
 And then the other;
Her cotton socks she'll deftly doff
Despite the mild reproaches of
 Her mother.

Around the house she loves to fare,
And with her rosy tootsies bare,
 Pit-pat the floor;
And though remonstrances we make
She presently decides to take
 Off something more.

Her pinafore she next unties,
And then before we realise,
 Her...Read more of this...

Modern Love VII: She Issues Radiant

by George Meredith
 She issues radiant from her dressing-room, 
Like one prepared to scale an upper sphere: 
--By stirring up a lower, much I fear 
How deftly that oiled barber lays his bloom 
That long-shanked dapper Cupid with frisked curls 
Can make known women torturingly fair; 
The gold-eyed serpent dwelling in rich hair, 
Awakes beneath his magic whisks and twirls. 
His art...Read more of this...

Summer With Margaret

by Barry Tebb
 When my mam had to go

Up north to look after gran,

Margaret’s mam said I could

Stop with them; while they were

Sorting it out Margaret looked

Away, pretending to go all shy

But there was a gleam in her eye,

Anyway it was the six weeks’

Holiday and six weeks with

Margaret night and day was a

Sun and blue sky heaven to my

Ten-year old heart.. the...Read more of this...

Love Poem

by Richard Brautigan
 My clumsiest dear, whose hands shipwreck vases,
At whose quick touch all glasses chip and ring,
Whose palms are bulls in china, burs in linen,
And have no cunning with any soft thing

Except all ill-at-ease fidgeting people:
The refugee uncertain at the door
You make at home; deftly you steady
The drunk clambering on his undulant floor.

Unpredictable dear, the taxi drivers' terror,
Shrinking from far headlights...Read more of this...

Story of Udaipore:

by Adela Florence Cory Nicolson
   Told by Lalla-ji, the Priest

         "And when the Summer Heat is great,
           And every hour intense,
         The Moghra, with its subtle flowers,
         ...Read more of this...

On a Primitive Canoe

by Claude McKay
 Here, passing lonely down this quiet lane, 
Before a mud-splashed window long I pause 
To gaze and gaze, while through my active brain 
Still thoughts are stirred to wakefulness; because 
Long, long ago in a dim unknown land, 
A massive forest-tree, ax-felled, adze-hewn, 
Was deftly done by cunning mortal hand 
Into a symbol of the tender moon. 
Why does...Read more of this...

The House Of Dust: Part 02: 02: The Fulfilled Dream

by Conrad Aiken
 More towers must yet be built—more towers destroyed—
Great rocks hoisted in air;
And he must seek his bread in high pale sunlight
With gulls about him, and clouds just over his eyes . . .
And so he did not mention his dream of falling
But drank his coffee in silence, and heard in his ears
That horrible whistle of wind, and felt his...Read more of this...

The Sycamores

by John Greenleaf Whittier
 In the outskirts of the village 
On the river's winding shores 
Stand the Occidental plane-trees, 
Stand the ancient sycamores. 

One long century hath been numbered, 
And another half-way told 
Since the rustic Irish gleeman 
Broke for them the virgin mould. 

Deftly set to Celtic music 
At his violin's sound they grew, 
Through the moonlit eves of summer, 
Making Amphion's...Read more of this...

As Soon as Fred Gets Out of Bed

by Jack Prelutsky
 As soon as Fred gets out of bed,
his underwear goes on his head.
His mother laughs, "Don't put it there,
a head's no place for underwear!"
But near his ears, above his brains,
is where Fred's underwear remains.

At night when Fred goes back to bed,
he deftly plucks it off his head.
His mother switches off the light
and softly croons, "Good night! Good night!"
And then,...Read more of this...

It chanced into a potter's shop I strayed,

by Omar Khayyam
It chanced into a potter's shop I strayed,
He turned his wheel and deftly plied his trade,
And out of monarchs' heads, and beggars' feet,
Fair heads and handles for his pitchers made!...Read more of this...

Genius

by Lucy Maud Montgomery
 Genius, like gold and precious stones, 
is chiefly prized because of its rarity. 

Geniuses are people who dash of weird, wild, 
incomprehensible poems with astonishing facility, 
and get booming drunk and sleep in the gutter. 

Genius elevates its possessor to ineffable spheres 
far above the vulgar world and fills his soul 
with regal contempt for the gross and sordid...Read more of this...

An Evening With John Heath-stubbs

by Barry Tebb
 Alone in Sutton with Fynbos my orange cat

A long weekend of wind and rain drowning

The tumultuous flurry of mid-February blossom

A surfeit of letters to work through, a mountain

Of files to sort, some irritation at the thought

Of travelling to Kentish Town alone when

My mind was flooded with the mellifluous voice

Of Heath-Stubbs on tape reading ‘The Divided Ways’

In memory of Sidney...Read more of this...

To Sleep

by John Keats
O SOFT embalmer of the still midnight! 
Shutting with careful fingers and benign 
Our gloom-pleased eyes embower'd from the light  
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine; 
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee close 5 
In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes  
Or wait the amen ere thy poppy throws 
Around my bed its lulling charities; 
Then...Read more of this...

Far in the Further East

by Adela Florence Cory Nicolson
   Far in the Further East the skilful craftsman
       Fashioned this fancy for the West's delight.
   This rose and azure Dragon, crouching softly
       Upon the satin skin, close-grained and white.

   And you lay silent, while his slender needles
    ...Read more of this...

Butterflies

by Siegfried Sassoon
 Frail Travellers, deftly flickering over the flowers; 
O living flowers against the heedless blue 
Of summer days, what sends them dancing through 
This fiery-blossom’d revel of the hours? 

Theirs are the musing silences between
The enraptured crying of shrill birds that make 
Heaven in the wood while summer dawns awake; 
And theirs the faintest winds that hush the green. 

And...Read more of this...

To Brenda Williams ‘writing Against The Grain'

by Barry Tebb
 It was Karl Shapiro who wrote in his ‘Defence of Ignorance’ how many poets

Go mad or seem to be so and the majority think we should all be in jail

Or mental hospital and you have ended up in both places - fragile as bone china,

Your pale skin taut, your fingers clasped tight round a cup, sitting in a pool

Of...Read more of this...

At Ithaca

by Hilda Doolittle
 Over and back, 
the long waves crawl 
and track the sand with foam; 
night darkens, and the sea 
takes on that desperate tone 
of dark that wives put on 
when all their love is done.

Over and back, 
the tangled thread falls slack, 
over and up and on; 
over and all is sewn; 
now while I bind the end, 
I...Read more of this...

The straw parlor

by Eugene Field
 Way up at the top of a big stack of straw
Was the cunningest parlor that ever you saw!
And there could you lie when aweary of play
And gossip or laze in the coziest way;
No matter how careworn or sorry one's mood
No worldly distraction presumed to intrude.
As a refuge from onerous mundane ado
I think I approve of straw parlors, don't you?

A...Read more of this...

To The Chapel Bell

by Robert Southey
 "Lo I, the man who erst the Muse did ask
Her deepest notes to swell the Patriot's meeds,
Am now enforst a far unfitter task
For cap and gown to leave my minstrel weeds,"
For yon dull noise that tinkles on the air
Bids me lay by the lyre and go to morning prayer.

Oh how I hate the sound! it is the Knell,
That still...Read more of this...

Heretics Tragedy The

by Robert Browning
 A MIDDLE-AGE INTERLUDE.

ROSA MUNDI; SEU, FULCITE ME FLORIBUS.
A CONCEIT OF MASTER GYSBRECHT,
CANON-REGULAR OF SAID JODOCUS-BY-THE-BAR,
YPRES CITY. CANTUQUE, _Virgilius._ 
AND HATH OFTEN BEEN SUNG 
AT HOCK-TIDE AND FESTIVALES. GAVISUS
ERAM, _Jessides._

(It would seem to be a glimpse from the
burning of Jacques du Bourg-Mulay, at Paris,
A. D. 1314; as distorted by the refraction from
Flemish brain to brain, during the course of
a couple...Read more of this...

Morning Coffee

by Alec Derwent (A D) Hope
 Reading the menu at the morning service: 
- Iced Venusberg perhaps, or buttered bum - 
Orders the usual sex-ersatz, and, nervous, 
Glances around - Will she or won't she come? 

The congregation dissected into pews 
Gulping their strip teas in the luminous cavern 
Agape's sacamental berry stews; 
The nickel-plated light and clatter of heaven 

Receive him, temporary Tantalus 
Into...Read more of this...

Crab

by Sharon Olds
 When I eat crab, slide the rosy
rubbery claw across my tongue
I think of my mother. She'd drive down
to the edge of the Bay, tiny woman in a
huge car, she'd ask the crab-man to
crack it for her. She'd stand and wait as the
pliers broke those chalky homes, wild-
red and knobby, those cartilage wrists, the
thin orange roof of the back.
I'd come...Read more of this...

Parable For A Certain Virgin

by Dorothy Parker
 Oh, ponder, friend, the porcupine;
Refresh your recollection,
And sit a moment, to define
His means of self-protection.

How truly fortified is he!
Where is the beast his double
In forethought of emergency
And readiness for trouble?

Recall his figure, and his shade-
How deftly planned and clearly
For slithering through the dappled glade
Unseen, or pretty nearly.

Yet should an alien eye discern
His presence in the woodland,
How little has he...Read more of this...

James Simmons R.i.p

by Barry Tebb
 You were the one I wanted most to know

So like yet unlike, like fire and snow,

The casual voice, the sharp invective,

The barbed wit, the lapsed Irish Protestant

Who never gave a ****, crossed the palms

Of the great and good with coins hot with contempt

For the fakers and the tricksters whose poetry

Deftly bent to fashion’s latest slant.



You wrote from the heart,...Read more of this...

My Tails

by Robert William Service
 I haven't worn my evening dress
 For nearly twenty years;
Oh I'm unsocial, I confess,
 A hermit, it appears.
So much moth-balled it's but away,
 And though wee wifie wails,
Never unto my dimmest day
 I'll don my tails.

How slim and trim I looked in them,
 Though I was sixty old;
And now their sleekness I condemn
 To lie in rigid fold.
I have...Read more of this...

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