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).
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by
Service, Robert William
...aims 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 your gains,
What cherish you of worth
For all your pains?
E'er death shall slam the door,
Will you, like me,
Face fate and count the score--
FUTILITY....Read more of this...
by
Masters, Edgar Lee
...full of pride.
I was so hungry I had a vision:
I saw a giant pair of scissors
Dip from the sky, like the beam of a dredge,
And cut the house in two like a curtain.
But at the "Commercial" I saw a man,
Who winked at me as I asked for work --
It was Wash McNeely's son.
He proved the link in the chain of title
To half my ownership of the mansion,
Through a breach of promise suit -- the scissors.
So, you see, the house, from the day I was born,
Was only waiting f...Read more of this...
by
Gregory, Rg
...'s hand across the grass
and here as i sit now weeping lightly
i'm sorry for those speechless tomes
that only now dare dredge that language
to honour your presence in my bones
and child to you i am a father
and my own children i tightly need
for all those deaths i deal them daily
may these green words a little bleed...Read more of this...
by
Bishop, Elizabeth
...ell it turning to gas; if one were Baudelaire
one could probably hear it turning to marimba music.
The little ocher dredge at work off the end of the dock
already plays the dry perfectly off-beat claves.
The birds are outsize. Pelicans crash
into this peculiar gas unnecessarily hard,
it seems to me, like pickaxes,
rarely coming up with anything to show for it,
and going off with humorous elbowings.
Black-and-white man-of-war birds soar
on impalpable drafts
and...Read more of this...
by
Plath, Sylvia
...ou 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 pails of Lysol
I crawl like an ant in mourning
Over the weedy acres of your brow
To mend the immense skull-plates and clear
The bald, white tumuli of your eyes.
A blue sky out of the Oresteia
Arches above us. O father, all by yourself
You are pi...Read more of this...
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