Famous Index Finger Poems by Famous Poets

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

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Mud Soup

by Carolyn Kizer
 1.

Had the ham bone, had the lentils,
Got to meat store for the salt pork,
Got to grocery for the celery.
Had the onions, had the garlic,
Borrowed carrots from the neighbor.
Had the spices, had the parsley.
One big kettle I had not got;
Borrowed pot and lid from landlord.

2.

Dice the pork and chop the celery,
Chop the onions, chop the carrots,
Chop the tender index finger.
Put...Read more of this...

The Assassin

by Anne Sexton
 The correct death is written in.
I will fill the need.
My bow is stiff.
My bow is in readiness.
I am the bullet and the hook.
I am cocked and held ready.
In my sights I carve him
like a sculptor. I mold out
his last look at everyone.
I carry his eyes and his
brain bone at every position.
I know his male sex and I do
march over...Read more of this...

Between Games

by Vasko Popa
 Nobody rests 

This one constantly shifts his eyes 
Hangs them on his head 
And whether he wants it or not starts walking 
 backwards 
He puts them on the soles of his feet 
And whether he wants it or not returns walking 
 on his head 

This one turns into an ear 
He hears all that won't let itself...Read more of this...

Marie Bateson

by Edgar Lee Masters
 You observe the carven hand
With the index finger pointing heavenward.
That is the direction, no doubt.
But how shall one follow it?
It is well to abstain from murder and lust,
To forgive, do good to others, worship God
Without graven images.
But these are external means after all
By which you chiefly do good to yourself.
The inner kernel is freedom,
It is light, purity --
I can...Read more of this...

Linda Pastan - Vermilion

by Linda Pastan
 Pierre Bonnard would enter
the museum with a tube of paint
in his pocket and a sable brush.
Then violating the sanctity
of one of his own frames
he'd add a stroke of vermilion
to the skin of a flower.
Just so I stopped you
at the door this morning
and licking my index finger, removed
an invisible crumb
from your vermilion mouth. As if
at the ritual moment of departure
I...Read more of this...

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