Famous Intelligence Poems by Famous Poets

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

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Passing Out

by Philip Levine
 The doctor fingers my bruise. 
"Magnificent," he says, "black 
at the edges and purple 
cored." Seated, he spies for clues, 
gingerly probing the slack 
flesh, while I, standing, fazed, pull 

for air, losing the battle. 
Faced by his aged diploma, 
the heavy head of the X- 
ray, and the iron saddle, 
I grow lonely. He finds my 
secrets common...Read more of this...

The Simple Line

by Laura Riding Jackson
 The secrets of the mind convene splendidly,
Though the mind is meek.
To be aware inwardly
of brain and beauty
Is dark too recognizable.
Thought looking out on thought
Makes one an eye:
Which it shall be, both decide.
One is with the mind alone,
The other is with other thoughts gone
To be seen from afar and not known.

When openly these inmost sights
Flash and speak fully,
Each head at...Read more of this...

These Things

by Charles Bukowski
 these things that we support most well 
have nothing to do with up, 
and we do with them 
out of boredom or fear or money 
or cracked intelligence; 
our circle and our candle of light 
being small, 
so small we cannot bear it, 
we heave out with Idea 
and lose the Center: 
all wax without the wick, 
and we...Read more of this...

O mufti (grand judge) of the city! I am more a worker

by Omar Khayyam
O mufti [grand judge] of the city! I am more a worker
than art thou. Drunk as I am, I own more intelligence
than thou; for thou, thou drinkest the blood of human
beings and I that of the vine. Be just and tell me
which is the more sanguinary of the two?
345...Read more of this...

Sonnet 86: Was it the proud full sail of his great verse

by William Shakespeare
 Was it the proud full sail of his great verse,
Bound for the prize of all-too-precious you,
That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse,
Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?
Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write
Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?
No, neither he, nor his compeers by night
Giving him aid, my verse astonishèd.
He nor...Read more of this...

Initial Love

by Ralph Waldo Emerson
 Venus, when her son was lost,
Cried him up and down the coast,
In hamlets, palaces, and parks,
And told the truant by his marks,
Golden curls, and quiver, and bow;—
This befell long ago.
Time and tide are strangely changed,
Men and manners much deranged;
None will now find Cupid latent
By this foolish antique patent.
He came late along the waste,
Shod like a traveller for haste,
With malice...Read more of this...

Behind the Arras

by Bliss Carman
 I like the old house tolerably well, 
Where I must dwell 
Like a familiar gnome; 
And yet I never shall feel quite at home. 
I love to roam. 
Day after day I loiter and explore 
From door to door; 
So many treasures lure 
The curious mind. What histories obscure 
They must immure! 

I hardly know which room I care...Read more of this...

CIA Dope Calypso

by Allen Ginsberg
 In nineteen hundred forty-nine
China was won by Mao Tse-tung
Chiang Kai-shek's army ran away
They were waiting there in Thailand yesterday

Supported by the CIA
Pushing junk down Thailand way

First they stole from the Meo Tribes
Up in the hills they started taking bribes
Then they sent their soldiers up to Shan
Collecting opium to send to The Man

Pushing junk in Bangkok yesterday
Supported by the CIA

Brought...Read more of this...

Epode

by Ben Jonson
  XI. — EPODE.                                   And her black spite expel, Which to effect (since no breast is so sure,                  Or safe, but she'll procure Some way of entrance) we must plant a guard                  Of thoughts to watch, and ward At the eye and ear, the ports unto the mind,                 Give knowledge instantly, To wakeful reason, our affections' king :                  Who, in th' examining,...Read more of this...

We are all lovers, all drunkards, all adorers of wine

by Omar Khayyam
We are all lovers, all drunkards, all adorers of wine.
We are all united in the tavern, having banished far
from us all that is good, all that is evil, all reflection
and revery. Oh! expect not intelligence or reason of us,
for we are all overcome with wine....Read more of this...

Operation Memory

by David Lehman
 We were smoking some of this knockout weed when
Operation Memory was announced. To his separate bed
Each soldier went, counting backwards from a hundred
With a needle in his arm. And there I was, in the middle
Of a recession, in the middle of a strange city, between jobs
And apartments and wives. Nobody told me the gun was loaded.

We'd been drinking since...Read more of this...

A Little History

by David Lehman
 Some people find out they are Jews.
They can't believe it.
Thy had always hated Jews.
As children they had roamed in gangs on winter nights in the old
 neighborhood, looking for Jews.
They were not Jewish, they were Irish.
They brandished broken bottles, tough guys with blood on their
 lips, looking for Jews.
They intercepted Jewish boys walking alone and beat them up.
Sometimes they...Read more of this...

Never for a moment be deprived of wine, for it is wine

by Omar Khayyam
Never for a moment be deprived of wine, for it is wine
that gives reflection to intelligence, to the heart of man
and to religion. If the devil had tasted it for one instant,
he would have adored Adam and have made before
him thousands of genuflections....Read more of this...

The River of Rivers in Connecticut

by Wallace Stevens
There is a great river this side of Stygia
Before one comes to the first black cataracts
And trees that lack the intelligence of trees.

In that river, far this side of Stygia,
The mere flowing of the water is a gayety,
Flashing and flashing in the sun. On its banks,

No shadow walks. The river is fateful,
Like the last one. But there is no ferryman.
He...Read more of this...

The Robe of Christ

by Joyce Kilmer
 (For Cecil Chesterton)

At the foot of the Cross on Calvary
Three soldiers sat and diced,
And one of them was the Devil
And he won the Robe of Christ.
When the Devil comes in his proper form
To the chamber where I dwell,
I know him and make the Sign of the Cross
Which drives him back to Hell.
And when he comes like a friendly man
And...Read more of this...

Humanity i love you

by Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings
Humanity i love you
because you would rather black the boots of
success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both

parties and because you 
unflinchingly applaud all
songs containing the words country home and
mother when sung at the old howard

Humanity i love you because
when you're hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drink and when
you're flush pride...Read more of this...

Each One, Pull One

by Alice Walker
(Thinking of Lorraine Hansberry)


We must say it all, and as clearly
Trying to bury us.
As we can. For, even before we are dead,


Were we black? Were we women? Were we gay?
Were we the wrong shade of black? Were we yellow?
Did we, God forbid, love the wrong person, country?
Or politics? Were we Agnes Smedley or John Brown?


But, most of all, did we...Read more of this...

The Amulet

by Ralph Waldo Emerson
 Your picture smiles as first it smiled,
The ring you gave is still the same,
Your letter tells, O changing child,
No tidings since it came.

Give me an amulet
That keeps intelligence with you,
Red when you love, and rosier red,
And when you love not, pale and blue.

Alas, that neither bonds nor vows
Can certify possession;
Torments me still the fear that love
Died in its last...Read more of this...

Mementos

by Charlotte Bronte
 ARRANGING long-locked drawers and shelves 
Of cabinets, shut up for years, 
What a strange task we've set ourselves ! 
How still the lonely room appears ! 
How strange this mass of ancient treasures, 
Mementos of past pains and pleasures; 
These volumes, clasped with costly stone, 
With print all faded, gilding gone; 

These fans of leaves, from Indian trees­ 
These...Read more of this...

He who has had the intelligence to sow joy in his

by Omar Khayyam
He who has had the intelligence to sow joy in his
heart has not lost a single day in sorrow; he has employed
his faculties in seeking the will of God, or has procured
repose for his soul by taking a cup of wine....Read more of this...

On A Gentlewomans Watch That Wanted A Key

by William Strode
 Thou pretty heav'n whose great and lesser spheares
With constant wheelings measure hours and yeares
Soe faithfully that thou couldst solve the doubt
Of erring Time if Nature should be out,
Where's thy intelligence? thy Soule? the Key
That gives thee Life and Motion? must thou stay
Thus cramp'd with rusty Sloth? and shall each wheele
Disorganis'd confess it is but steele?
Art's Living Creature, is thy...Read more of this...

Those who, through knowledge, are the cream of the

by Omar Khayyam
Those who, through knowledge, are the cream of the
world; who, with intelligence scan the heights of the
heavens, they also, like the firmament, have their heads
turned in their search for divine knowledge, and are
taken with vertigo and dimness of sight.
309...Read more of this...

The Artists Duty

by Kenneth Patchen
 So it is the duty of the artist to discourage all traces of shame
To extend all boundaries
To fog them in right over the plate
To kill only what is ridiculous
To establish problem
To ignore solutions
To listen to no one
To omit nothing
To contradict everything
To generate the free brain
To bear no cross
To take part in no crucifixion
To tinkle a warning when mankind strays
To...Read more of this...

There hangs in the heavens a bull called Parwin

by Omar Khayyam
There hangs in the heavens a bull called Parwin
[Pleiades], and another bull is underneath the earth. To
the eyes of intelligence or those who live in certainty,
I show a herd of asses placed between two beeves....Read more of this...

Thought was born blind, but Thought knows what is seeing

by Fernando Pessoa
Thought was born blind, but Thought knows what is seeing.

Its careful touch, deciphering forms from shapes,

Still suggests form as aught whose proper being

Mere finding touch with erring darkness drapes.

Yet whence, except from guessed sight, does touch teach

That touch is but a close and empty sense?

How does mere touch, self-uncontented, reach

For some truer sense's whole intelligence?

The thing once touched, if touch...Read more of this...

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