Get Your Premium Membership

Famous Killed Poems by Famous Poets

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

See also:

by Plath, Sylvia
....

I do not want much of a present, anyway, this year.
After all I am alive only by accident.

I would have killed myself gladly that time any possible way.
Now there are these veils, shimmering like curtains,

The diaphanous satins of a January window
White as babies' bedding and glittering with dead breath. O ivory!

It must be a tusk there, a ghost column.
Can you not see I do not mind what it is.

Can you not give it to me?
Do not be ashamed--I...Read more of this...



by Thayer, Ernest Lawrence
...ern and distant shore. 

"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand, 
and it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand. 

With a smile of Christian charity, great Casey's visage shone, 
he stilled the rising tumult, he bade the game go on. 

He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew, 
but Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two!" 

"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo ans...Read more of this...

by Wilcox, Ella Wheeler
...Whom following friends will bless, while foes will curse and cower.



XX.
Again they charge! and now among the killed
Lies Hamilton, his wish so soon fulfilled, 
Brave Elliott pursues across the field
The flying foe, his own young life to yield.
But like the leaves in some autumnal gale
The red men fall in Washita's wild vale.
Each painted face and black befeathered head
Still more repulsive seems with death's grim pallor wed.



XXI.
New forces gathe...Read more of this...

by Hugo, Victor
...A sudden, strong, and glaring light is shed, 
 Striking upon the goldsmith's burnished works, 
 And on the pheasants killed by traitor hawks. 
 Loaded the table is with viands cold, 
 Ewers and flagons, all enough of old 
 To make a love feast. All the napery 
 Was Friesland's famous make; and fair to see 
 The dishes, silver-gilt and bordered round 
 With flowers; for fruit, here strawberries were found 
 And citrons, apples too, and nectarines. 
 The wooden bowls...Read more of this...

by Pinsky, Robert
...e end
He'd have to call me back. The joke was Elliot's,

More often than not. The doctors made the blunder
That killed him some time later that same year.
One day when I got home I found a message

On my machine from Bob. He had a story
About two rabbis, one of them tall, one short,
One day while walking along the street together

They see the corpse of a Chinese man before them,
And Bob said, sorry, he forgot the rest.
Of course he thought that his joke w...Read more of this...



by Marvell, Andrew
...ainter, draw his picture while I write. 
Paint him of person tall, and big of bone, 
Large limbs like ox, not to be killed but shown. 
Scarce can burnt ivory feign an hair so black, 
Or face so red, thine ocher and thy lac. 
Mix a vain terror in his martial look, 
And all those lines by which men are mistook; 
But when, by shame constrained to go on board, 
He heard how the wild cannon nearer roared, 
And saw himself confined like sheep in pen, 
Daniel then though...Read more of this...

by Sexton, Anne
...
sucking with love at the coral of our love.
Yet they wait,
in their short time,
like little utero half-borns,
half killed, thin and bone soft.
They breathe the air that stands
for twenty-five illicit days,
the sun crawling inside the sheets,
the moon spinning like a tornado
in the washbowl,
and we orchestrated them both,
calling ourselves TWO CAMP DIRECTORS.
There was a song, our song on your cassette,
that played over and over
and baptised the prodigals.
It ...Read more of this...

by Jeffers, Robinson
...rning the broken balance, the hopeless prostration of the earth
Under men's hands and their minds,
The beautiful places killed like rabbits to make a city,
The spreading fungus, the slime-threads
And spores; my own coast's obscene future: I remember the farther
Future, and the last man dying
Without succession under the confident eyes of the stars.
It was only a moment's accident,
The race that plagued us; the world resumes the old lonely immortal
Splendor; from here I ca...Read more of this...

by Masefield, John
...t didn't speak, 
she gasped, white hollows in her cheek; 
Jimmy was writhing, screaming wild, 
The shoppers thought I'd killed the child.

I had to speak, so I begun. 
"You oughtn't beat your little son; 
He did no harm, but seeing him there 
I talked to him and gi'm a pear; 
I'm sure the poor child meant no wrong, 
It's all my fault he stayed so long, 
He'd not have stayed, mum, I'll be bound 
If I'd not chanced to come around. 
It's all my fault he stayed, not h...Read more of this...

by Aiken, Conrad
...illed,
The ambulance drives away.
We watch its roof flash by, hear someone say
'A man fell off the building and was killed—
Fell right into a barrel . . .' We turn again
Among the frightened eyes of white-faced men,
And go our separate ways, each bearing with him
A thing he tries, but vainly, to forget,—
A sickened crowd, a stretcher red and wet.

A hurdy-gurdy sings in the crowded street,
The golden notes skip over the sunlit stones,
Wings are upon our fe...Read more of this...

by Chaucer, Geoffrey
...mean the cursed wicked Soudaness,
That at the feast *let slay both more and less.* *caused both high
 and low to be killed*
For which this emperor had sent anon
His senator, with royal ordinance,
And other lordes, God wot, many a one,
On Syrians to take high vengeance:
They burn and slay, and bring them to mischance
Full many a day: but shortly this is th' end,
Homeward to Rome they shaped them to wend.

This senator repaired with victory
To Rome-ward, sailing full ro...Read more of this...

by Bukowski, Charles
...Old
ladies in their 70's and 80's sat on the benches and discussed selling real estate left
behind by husbands long ago killed by the pace and stupidity of survival. For it all,
there was peace in the air and we walked about and stretched on the lawns and didn't say
much. It simply felt good being together. I bought a couple of sandwiches, some chips and
drinks and we sat on the sand eating. Then I held Cass and we slept together about an
hour. It was some...Read more of this...

by Brooks, Gwendolyn
...
Return for a snack of them, with gobbling mother-eye.

I have heard in the voices of the wind the voices of my dim killed
children.
I have contracted. I have eased
My dim dears at the breasts they could never suck.
I have said, Sweets, if I sinned, if I seized
Your luck
And your lives from your unfinished reach,
If I stole your births and your names,
Your straight baby tears and your games,
Your stilted or lovely loves, your tumults, your marriages, aches,
an...Read more of this...

by Coleridge, Samuel Taylor
...ay
Came to the mariners' hollo!

And I had done a hellish thing,
And it would work 'em woe:
For all averred, I had killed the bird
That made the breeze to blow.
Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,
That made the breeze to blow!

Nor dim nor red like God's own head,
The glorious Sun uprist:
Then all averred, I had killed the bird
That brought the fog and mist.
'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,
That bring the fog and mist.

The fair bre...Read more of this...

by Herbert, George
...like mine? 

They choose a murderer, and all agree
In him to do themselves a courtesy: 
For it was their own cause who killed me: 
Was ever grief like mine? 

And a seditious murderer he was: 
But I the Prince of peace; peace that doth pass
All understanding, more than heav'n doth glass: 
Was ever grief like mine? 

Why, Caesar is their only King, not I: 
He clave the stony rock, when they were dry; 
But surely not their hearts, as I well try: 
Was ever grief like mine? 

Ah...Read more of this...

by Lowell, Amy
...armth, the wall was cold and burning
Like stinging ice, and his passion, chilled,
Lay in his heart like some dead thing killed
At the moment of birth. Then, deadly sick,
He would lie in a swoon for hours, while thick
Phantasmagoria crowded his brain,
And his body shrieked in the clutch of pain.
The crisis passed, he would wake and smile
With a vacant joy, half-imbecile
And quite confused, not being certain
Why he was suffering; a curtain
Fallen over the tortured mind ...Read more of this...

by Masefield, John
...k with all her sails gone," went the word; 
Then, from her signals flying, rumor ran, 
"The sea that stove her boats in killed her third; 
She has been gutted and has lost a man." 

So, as though stepping to a funeral march, 
She passed defeated homewards whence she came, 
Ragged with tattered canvas white as starch, 
A wild bird that misfortune had made tame. 

She was refitted soon: another took 
The dead man's office; then the singers hove 
Her capstan till the sna...Read more of this...

by Miller, Alice Duer
...ake it clear, 
And the heart is despairing 
 Before the ears hear. 
I do not remember 
 The words that they said: 
'Killed—Douai—November—' 
 I knew John was dead. 
All done and over—
 That day long ago—
The while cliffs of Dover— 
 Little did I know. 

XL 
As I grow older, looking back, I see 
Not those the longest planted in the heart 
Are the most missed. Some unions seem to be 
Too close for even death to tear apart. 
Those who have lived together many...Read more of this...

by Swift, Jonathan
...nch at most.
If in battle you should find
One whom you love of all mankind,
Had some heroic action done,
A champion killed, or trophy won;
Rather than thus be overtopped,
Would you not wish his laurels cropped?
Dear honest Ned is in the gout,
Lies racked with pain, and you without:
How patiently you hear him groan!
How glad the case is not your own!

What poet would not grieve to see
His breth'ren write as well as he?
But rather than they should excel,
He wished his rival...Read more of this...

by Akhmatova, Anna
...

He was jealous, fearful and tender,
He loved me like God's only light,
And that she not sing of the past times
He killed my bird colored white.

He said, in the lighthouse at sundown:
"Love me, laugh and write poetry!"
And I buried the joyous songbird
Behind a round well near a tree.

I promised that I would not mourn her.
But my heart turned to stone without choice,
And it seems to me that everywhere
And always I'll hear her sweet voice.


...Read more of this...

Dont forget to view our wonderful member Killed poems.


Book: Reflection on the Important Things