Famous Dislike Poems by Famous Poets

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

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Upon Love:by Way Of Question And Answer

by Robert Herrick
 I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Like, and dislike ye.
I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Stroke ye, to strike ye.
I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Love will be-fool ye.
I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Heat ye, to cool ye.
I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?
ANS....Read more of this...

Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face

by Jack Prelutsky
 Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.

Imagine if your precious nose
were sandwiched in between your toes,
that clearly would not be a treat,
for you'd be forced to smell your feet.

Your nose would be a source of dread
were it attached atop your...Read more of this...

The River-Merchants Wife: A Letter

by Ezra Pound
 After Li Po

While my hair was still cut straight 
 across my forehead
I played at the front gate, pulling
 flowers.
You came by on bamboo stilts, playing
 horse,
You walked about my seat, playing with
 blue plums. 
And we went on living in the village of 
 Chokan:
Two small people, without dislike or 
 suspicion. 

At fourteen I married My Lord...Read more of this...

The Lyon And The Gnat

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 To the still Covert of a Wood 
About the prime of Day, 
A Lyon, satiated with Food, 
With stately Pace, and sullen Mood, 
Now took his lazy way. 

To Rest he there himself compos'd, 
And in his Mind revolv'd, 
How Great a Person it enclos'd, 
How free from Danger he repos'd, 
Though now in Ease dissolv'd! 

Who Guard, nor...Read more of this...

Dream Song 84: Op. posth. no. 7

by John Berryman
 Plop, plop. The lobster toppled in the pot,
fulfilling, dislike man, his destiny,
glowing fire-red,
succulent, and on the whole becoming what
man wants. I crack my final claw singly,
wind up the grave, & to bed.

-”Sound good, Mr Bones. I wish I had me some.
(I spose you got a lessen up your slave.)
-”O no no no.
Sole I remember; where no lobster swine,-”
pots hot...Read more of this...

Dream Song 17: Muttered Henry:-'Lord of matter thus

by John Berryman
 Muttered Henry:-”Lord of matter, thus:
upon some more unquiet spirit knock,
my madnesses have cease.
All the quarter astonishes a lonely out & back.
They set their clocks by Henry House,
the steadiest man on the block.

And Lucifer:-”I smell you for my own,
by smug.-”What have I tossed you but the least
(tho' hard); fit for your ears.
Your servant, bored with horror, sat alone
with busy teeth...Read more of this...

Six Significant Landscapes

by Wallace Stevens
I
An old man sits
In the shadow of a pine tree
In China.
He sees larkspur,
Blue and white,
At the edge of the shadow,
Move in the wind.
His beard moves in the wind.
The pine tree moves in the wind.
Thus water flows
Over weeds.

II
The night is of the colour
Of a woman's arm:
Night, the female,
Obscure,
Fragrant and supple,
Conceals herself.
A pool shines,
Like a bracelet
Shaken in a dance.

III
I measure myself
Against a...Read more of this...

Prothalamion

by Edmund Spenser
CALM was the day, and through the trembling air 
Sweet-breathing Zephyrus did softly play¡ª 
A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay 
Hot Titan's beams, which then did glister fair; 
When I, (whom sullen care, 5 
Through discontent of my long fruitless stay 
In princes' court, and expectation vain 
Of idle hopes, which still do fly away 
Like empty shadows, did...Read more of this...

Mirror

by Sylvia Plath
I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful‚
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart....Read more of this...

Natures Touch

by Robert William Service
 In kindergarten classed
 Dislike they knew;
And as the years went past
 It grew and grew;
Until in maidenhood
 Each sought a mate,
Then venom in their mood
 Was almost hate.

The lure of love they learned
 And they were wed;
Yet when they met each turned
 Away a head;
Each went her waspish way
 With muted damns--
Until they met one day
 With baby prams.

Then...Read more of this...

Where Shall We Go?

by Vernon Scannell
 Waiting for her in the usual bar
He finds she's late again.
Impatience frets at him,
But not the fearful, half-sweet pain he knew
So long ago.

That cherished perturbation is replaced
By styptic irritation
And, under that, a cold
Dark current of dejection moves
That this is so.

There was a time when all her failings were
Delights he marvelled at:
It seemed her clumsiness, 
Forgetfulness and wild non-sequiturs
Could never...Read more of this...

The Breast

by Anne Sexton
 This is the key to it.
This is the key to everything.
Preciously.

I am worse than the gamekeeper's children
picking for dust and bread.
Here I am drumming up perfume.

Let me go down on your carpet,
your straw mattress -- whatever's at hand
because the child in me is dying, dying.

It is not that I am cattle to be eaten.
It is not that I am...Read more of this...

Little Ballads Of Timely Warning; II: On Malicious Cruelty To Harmless Creatures

by Ellis Parker Butler
 The cruelty of P. L. Brown—
(He had ten toes as good as mine)
Was known to every one in town,
And, if he never harmed a noun,
He loved to make verbs shriek and whine.

The “To be” family’s just complaints—
(Brown had ten toes as good as mine)
Made Brown cast off the last restraints:
He smashed the “Is nots” into “Ain’ts”
And kicked both mood...Read more of this...

The Bed By The Window

by Robinson Jeffers
 I chose the bed downstairs by the sea-window for a good death-bed
When we built the house, it is ready waiting,
Unused unless by some guest in a twelvemonth, who hardly suspects
Its latter purpose. I often regard it,
With neither dislike nor desire; rather with both, so equalled
That they kill each other and a crystalline interest
Remains alone. We are safe to finish...Read more of this...

Poetry

by Marianne Moore
 I, too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond all 
 this fiddle.
 Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one 
 discovers in
 it after all, a place for the genuine.
 Hands that can grasp, eyes
 that can dilate, hair that can rise
 if it must, these things are important not because a

high-sounding interpretation...Read more of this...

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