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Famous Handbag Poems by Famous Poets

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

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by Frost, Robert
...s:
Where I was living then, New Hampshire offered
The nearest boundary to escape across.
I hadn't an illusion in my handbag
About the people being better there
Than those I left behind. I thought they weren't.
 I thought they couldn't be. And yet they were.
I'd sure had no such friends in Massachusetts
As Hall of Windham, Gay of Atkinson,
Bartlett of Raymond (now of Colorado),
Harris of Derry, and Lynch of Bethlehem.

The glorious bards of Massachusett...Read more of this...



by Neruda, Pablo
... 
She examines it, she observes it 
Up against the light like it was an egg, 
She buys it, 
She mixes it up 
In her handbag 
With a pair of shoes 
With a cabbage head and a 
Bottle 
Of vinegar 
Until 
She enters the kitchen 
And submerges it in a pot. 

Thus ends 
In peace 
This career 
Of the armed vegetable 
Which is called an artichoke, 
Then 
Scale by scale, 
We strip off 
The delicacy 
And eat 
The peaceful mush 
Of its green heart....Read more of this...

by Bukowski, Charles
...etty. Do you really think I'm
pretty?" 
"Pretty isn't the word, it hardly does you fair."
Cass reached into her handbag. I thought she was reaching for her handkerchief. She
came out with a long hatpin. Before I could stop her she had run this long hatpin through
her nose, sideways, just above the nostrils. I felt disgust and horror. She looked at me
and laughed, "Now do you think me pretty? What do you think now, man?" I pulled
the hatpin out and ...Read more of this...

by Plath, Sylvia
...widen your eye-rings?

Is it for this the air motes depart?
They rae not air motes, they are corpuscles.

Open your handbag. What is that bad smell?
It is your knitting, busily

Hooking itself to itself,
It is your sticky candies.

I have your head on my wall.
Navel cords, blue-red and lucent,

Shriek from my belly like arrows, and these I ride.
O moon-glow, o sick one,

The stolen horses, the fornications
Circle a womb of marble.

Where are you going
...Read more of this...

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Book: Shattered Sighs