Famous Instant Poems by Famous Poets

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

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After Years

by Ted Kooser
 Today, from a distance, I saw you
walking away, and without a sound
the glittering face of a glacier
slid into the sea. An ancient oak
fell in the Cumberlands, holding only
a handful of leaves, and an old woman
scattering corn to her chickens looked up
for an instant. At the other side
of the galaxy, a star thirty-five times
the size of our own sun exploded
and...Read more of this...

From the time since I am, I have not been for an instant

by Omar Khayyam
From the time since I am, I have not been for an instant
without drunkenness. This night is that of Kidr
and I this night am drunk; my lips are glued to that of
the cup and, leaning my breast against the jar, I have
held the neck of the flask in my hand until day....Read more of this...

The Knight in Disguise

by Vachel Lindsay
 [Concerning O. Henry (Sidney Porter)]

"He could not forget that he was a Sidney."


Is this Sir Philip Sidney, this loud clown, 
The darling of the glad and gaping town? 

This is that dubious hero of the press 
Whose slangy tongue and insolent address 
Were spiced to rouse on Sunday afternoon 
The man with yellow journals round him strewn. 
We laughed...Read more of this...

I never hear that one is dead

by Emily Dickinson
 I never hear that one is dead
Without the chance of Life
Afresh annihilating me
That mightiest Belief,

Too mighty for the Daily mind
That tilling its abyss,
Had Madness, had it once or twice
The yawning Consciousness,

Beliefs are Bandaged, like the Tongue
When Terror were it told
In any Tone commensurate
Would strike us instant Dead

I do not know the man so bold
He dare in lonely Place
That awful...Read more of this...

Canzone XI.(R)

by Francesco Petrarch
CANZONE XI.[R] Mai non vo' più cantar, com' io soleva. ENIGMAS.  Never more shall I sing, as I have sung:For still she heeded not; and I was scorn'd:So e'en in loveliest spots is trouble found.Unceasingly to sigh is no relief.Already on the Alp snow gathers round:Already...Read more of this...

After Hearing a Waltz by Bartok

by Amy Lowell
 But why did I kill him? Why? Why?
In the small, gilded room, near the stair?
My ears rack and throb with his cry,
And his eyes goggle under his hair,
As my fingers sink into the fair
White skin of his throat. It was I!
I killed him! My God! Don't you hear?
I shook him until his red tongue
Hung flapping out through the black,...Read more of this...

Before a Midnight Breaks in Storm

by Rudyard Kipling
 1903
Before a midnight breaks in storm,
 Or herded sea in wrath, 
Ye know what wavering gusts inform 
 The greater tempest's path? 
 Till the loosed wind
 Drive all from mind,
Except Distress, which, so will prophets cry, 
O'ercame them, houseless, from the unhinting sky.

Ere rivers league against the land 
 In piratry of flood, 
Ye know what waters steal...Read more of this...

Bat

by D. H. Lawrence
 At evening, sitting on this terrace, 
When the sun from the west, beyond Pisa, beyond the mountains of Carrara 
Departs, and the world is taken by surprise ... 

When the tired flower of Florence is in gloom beneath the glowing 
Brown hills surrounding ... 

When under the arches of the Ponte Vecchio 
A green light enters against stream, flush...Read more of this...

Michael Robartes And The Dancer

by William Butler Yeats
 He. Opinion is not worth a rush;
In this altar-piece the knight,
Who grips his long spear so to push
That dragon through the fading light,
Loved the lady; and it's plain
The half-dead dragon was her thought,
That every morning rose again
And dug its claws and shrieked and fought.
Could the impossible come to pass
She would have time to turn her eyes,
Her lover thought, upon...Read more of this...

Oh! Blame Not the Bard

by Thomas Moore
 Oh! blame not the bard, if he fly to the bowers 
Where Pleasure lies, carelessly smiling at Fame; 
He was born for much more, and in happier hours 
His soul might have burn'd with a holier flame. 
The string, that now languishes loose o'er the lyre, 
Might have bent a proud bow to the warrior's dart;
And the lip, which...Read more of this...

For each ecstatic instant

by Emily Dickinson
For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay
In keen and quivering ratio
To the ecstasy.

For each beloved hour
Sharp pittances of years,
Bitter contested farthings
And coffers heaped with tears....Read more of this...

The Dead King

by Rudyard Kipling
 (EDWARD VII.)

1910


Who in the Realm to-day lays down dear life for the sake of a land more dear?
And, unconcerned for his own estate, toils till the last grudged sands have run?
Let him approach. It is proven here
Our King asks nothing of any man more than Our King himself, has done.

For to him above all was Life good, above all...Read more of this...

The Shadow Voice

by Margaret Atwood
 My shadow said to me: 
what is the matter


Isn't the moon warm
enough for you
why do you need
the blanket of another body


Whose kiss is moss


Around the picnic tables
The bright pink hands held sandwiches
crumbled by distance. Flies crawl
over the sweet instant


You know what is in these blankets


The trees outside are bending with
children shooting guns. Leave
them alone. They are playing
games of their...Read more of this...

I cross till I am weary

by Emily Dickinson
 I cross till I am weary
A Mountain -- in my mind --
More Mountains -- then a Sea --
More Seas -- And then
A Desert -- find --

And My Horizon blocks
With steady -- drifting -- Grains
Of unconjectured quantity --
As Asiatic Rains --

Nor this -- defeat my Pace --
It hinder from the West
But as an Enemy's Salute
One hurrying to Rest --

What merit...Read more of this...

The Water-Nymph

by Alexander Pushkin
 In lakeside leafy groves, a friar
Escaped all worries; there he passed
His summer days in constant prayer,
Deep studies and eternal fast.
Already with a humble shovel
The elder dug himself a grave -
As, calling saints to bless his hovel,
Death - nothing other - did he crave.

So once, upon a falling night, he
Was bowing by his wilted shack
With meekest prayer to the Almighty.
The...Read more of this...

A Woman Unconscious

by Ted Hughes
 Russia and America circle each other;
Threats nudge an act that were without doubt 
A melting of the mould in the mother,
Stones melting about the root.

The quick of the earth burned out:
The toil of all our ages a loss
With leaf and insect. Yet flitting thought
(Not to be thought ridiculous)

Shies from the world-cancelling black
Of its playing shadow: it has learned 
That...Read more of this...

Do you wish life to rest upon a rock? Do you wish

by Omar Khayyam
Do you wish life to rest upon a rock? Do you wish
life for some time free to be from grief? Dwell for one
instant without drinking wine, then at each breath you'll
find a new attraction in existence....Read more of this...

To His Coy Mistress

by Andrew Marvell
  Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain.  I would
Love you ten years before the Flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of...Read more of this...

An Ode To Sir Clipsby Crew

by Robert Herrick
 Here we securely live, and eat
The cream of meat;
And keep eternal fires,
By which we sit, and do divine,
As wine
And rage inspires.

If full, we charm; then call upon
Anacreon
To grace the frantic Thyrse:
And having drunk, we raise a shout
Throughout,
To praise his verse.

Then cause we Horace to be read,
Which sung or said,
A goblet, to the brim,
Of lyric wine, both swell'd and crown'd,
Around
We...Read more of this...

When, with bowed head, I have fallen at the feet of

by Omar Khayyam
When, with bowed head, I have fallen at the feet of
death; when this destroying angel shall have made me
like a bird robbed of its plumage, then of my dust make
nothing other than a flask, for the perfume of the wine
that it contains might revive me for an instant....Read more of this...

The Two Kings

by William Butler Yeats
 King Eochaid came at sundown to a wood
Westward of Tara. Hurrying to his queen
He had outridden his war-wasted men
That with empounded cattle trod the mire,
And where beech-trees had mixed a pale green light
With the ground-ivy's blue, he saw a stag
Whiter than curds, its eyes the tint of the sea.
Because it stood upon his path and seemed
More hands in height...Read more of this...

R.t.s.l. (1917-1977)

by Derek Walcott
 As for that other thing
which comes when the eyelid is glazed
and the wax gleam
from the unwrinkled forehead
asks no more questions
of the dry mouth,

whether they open the heart like a shirt
to release a rage of swallows,
whether the brain
is a library for worms,
on the instant of that knowledge
of the moment
when everything became so stiff,

so formal with ironical adieux,
organ and choir,
and I...Read more of this...

The Fishermen

by Emile Verhaeren
The spot is flaked with mist, that fills,
Thickening into rolls more dank,
The thresholds and the window-sills,
And smokes on every bank.


The river stagnates, pestilent
With carrion by the current sent
This way and that—and yonder lies
The moon, just like a woman dead,
That they have smothered overhead,
Deep in the skies.


In a few boats alone there gleam
Lamps that light up and magnify
The backs, bent over...Read more of this...

The revolution will not be televised

by Gil Scott-Heron
You will not be able to stay home, brother
 You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out
 You will not be able to lose yourself on skag
 And skip out for beer during commercials
 Because the revolution will not be televised

The revolution will not be televised
 The revolution will not be brought to you by...Read more of this...

Historion

by Ezra Pound
 No man hath dared to write this thing as yet, 
And yet I know, how that the souls of all men great 
At times pass athrough us, 
And we are melted into them, and are not 
Save reflexions of their souls. 
Thus am I Dante for a space and am 
One Francois Villon, ballad-lord and thief, 
Or am such...Read more of this...

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