Famous Dredge Poems by Famous Poets
These are examples of famous Dredge poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous dredge poems. These examples illustrate what a famous dredge poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).
See also:
by
Edgar Lee Masters
Nothing in life is alien to you:
I was a penniless girl from Summum
Who stepped from the morning train in Spoon River.
All the houses stood before me with closed doors
And drawn shades -- I was barred out;
I had no place or part in any of them.
And I walked past the old McNeely mansion,
A castle of stone 'mid walks and gardens,
With...Read more of this...
by
Rg Gregory
wandering around milan my father
i know that (bred in the bone) i'm you
i walk and think - my legs roll onwards
i take in the atmosphere but not the view
but now you're dead - and i've been silent
for the past five months since you were burned
a numbness that called itself acceptance
sat in my heart and outward yearned
with other deaths i've...Read more of this...
by
Robert William Service
As nothingness draws near
How I can see
Inexorably clear
My vanity.
My sum of worthiness
Always so small,
Dwindles from less to less
To none at all.
As grisly destiny
Claims me at last,
How grievous seem to me
Sins of my past!
How keen a conscience edge
Can come to be!
How pitiless the dredge
Of memory!
Ye proud ones of the earth
Who count...Read more of this...
by
Sylvia Plath
I shall never get you put together entirely,
Pieced, glued, and properly jointed.
Mule-bray, pig-grunt and bawdy cackles
Proceed from your great lips.
It's worse than a barnyard.
Perhaps you consider yourself an oracle,
Mouthpiece of the dead, or of some god or other.
Thirty years now I have labored
To dredge the silt from your throat.
I am none the wiser.
Scaling little ladders with glue pots and...Read more of this...
by
Elizabeth Bishop
[On my birthday]
At low tide like this how sheer the water is.
White, crumbling ribs of marl protrude and glare
and the boats are dry, the pilings dry as matches.
Absorbing, rather than being absorbed,
the water in the bight doesn't wet anything,
the color of the gas flame turned as low as possible.
One can smell it turning to gas; if one were Baudelaire
one...Read more of this...
Dont forget to view our wonderful member Dredge poems.