Famous Non Poems by Famous Poets
These are examples of famous Non poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous non poems. These examples illustrate what a famous non poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).
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by
Lewis Carroll
"How shall I be a poet?
How shall I write in rhyme?
You told me once the very wish
Partook of the sublime:
Then tell me how. Don't put me off
With your 'another time'."
The old man smiled to see him,
To hear his sudden sally;
He liked the lad to speak his mind
Enthusiastically,
And thought, "There's no hum-drum in him,
Nor any shilly-shally."
"And would you be a...Read more of this...
by
Margaret Atwood
More and more frequently the edges
of me dissolve and I become
a wish to assimilate the world, including
you, if possible through the skin
like a cool plant's tricks with oxygen
and live by a harmless green burning.
I would not consume
you or ever
finish, you would still be there
surrounding me, complete
as the air.
Unfortunately I don't have leaves.
Instead I have eyes
and teeth and other non-green
things...Read more of this...
by
Francesco Petrarch
SONNET ***. Orso, e' non furon mai fiumi nè stagni. HE COMPLAINS OF THE VEIL AND HAND OF LAURA, THAT THEY DEPRIVE HIM OF THE SIGHT OF HER EYES. Orso, my friend, was never stream, nor lake,Nor sea in whose broad lap all rivers fall,Nor shadow of high hill, or wood, or wall,Read more of this...
by
Francesco Petrarch
SONNET CLXVII. Non pur quell' una bella ignuda mano. HE RETURNS THE GLOVE, BEWAILING THE EFFECT OF HER BEAUTY. Not of one dear hand only I complain,Which hides it, to my loss, again from view,But its fair fellow and her soft arms tooAre prompt my meek and passive heart to pain.Love...Read more of this...
by
D. H. Lawrence
You know what it is to be born alone,
Baby tortoise!
The first day to heave your feet little by little from the shell,
Not yet awake,
And remain lapsed on earth,
Not quite alive.
A tiny, fragile, half-animate bean.
To open your tiny beak-mouth, that looks as if it would never open,
Like some iron door;
To lift the upper hawk-beak from the lower base
And reach your...Read more of this...
by
James Tate
It seemed as if the enormous journey
was finally approaching its conclusion.
From the window of the train
the last trees were dissipating,
a child-like sailor waved once,
a seal-like dog barked and died.
The conductor entered the lavatory
and was not seen again, although
his harmonica-playing was appreciated.
He was not without talent, some said.
A botanist with whom I had become acquainted
actually suggested...Read more of this...
by
Andrew Barton Paterson
I’M travellin’ down the Castlereagh, and I’m a station hand,
I’m handy with the ropin’ pole, I’m handy with the brand,
And I can ride a rowdy colt, or swing the axe all day,
But there’s no demand for a station-hand along the Castlereagh. +
So it’s shift, boys, shift, for there isn’t the slightest doubt
That we’ve got...Read more of this...
by
T S (Thomas Stearns) Eliot
Similiter et omnes revereantur Diaconos, ut mandatum Jesu Christi; et Episcopum, ut
Jesum Christum, existentem filium Patris; Presbyteros autem, ut concilium Dei et
conjunctionem Apostolorum. Sine his Ecclesia non vocatur; de quibus suadeo vos sic
habeo.
S. Ignatii Ad Trallianos.
And when this epistle is read among you, cause that it be read also in the church of
the Laodiceans.
THE BROAD-BACKED hippopotamus
Rests on his...Read more of this...
by
Ezra Pound
"Vocat aestus in umbram"
Nemesianus Es. IV.
E. P. Ode pour l'élection de son sépulchre
For three years, out of key with his time,
He strove to resuscitate the dead art
Of poetry; to maintain "the sublime"
In the old sense. Wrong from the start --
No, hardly, but, seeing he had been born
In a half savage country, out of date;
Bent resolutely on...Read more of this...
by
Francesco Petrarch
[Pg 221] SONNET CCXVI. I' pur ascolto, e non odo novella. HEARING NO TIDINGS OF HER, HE BEGINS TO DESPAIR. Still do I wait to hear, in vain still wait,Of that sweet enemy I love so well:What now to think or say I cannot tell,'Twixt hope and fear my...Read more of this...
by
Dimitris P Kraniotis
Le nuage s’est battu
avec le sable,
sous la pluie
des «non» et des «oui»,
marchant avec de la force
sur la logique
qui écoute
à l’impasse des «peut être»....Read more of this...
by
Francesco Petrarch
SONNET XXXII. S' amore o morte non dà qualche stroppio. HE ASKS FROM A FRIEND THE LOAN OF THE WORKS OF ST. AUGUSTIN. If Love or Death no obstacle entwineWith the new web which here my fingers fold,And if I 'scape from beauty's tyrant holdWhile natural truth with truth reveal'd I join,Read more of this...
by
Edward Taylor
It seemed as if the enormous journey
was finally approaching its conclusion.
From the window of the train
the last trees were dissipating,
a child-like sailor waved once,
a seal-like dog barked and died.
The conductor entered the lavatory
and was not seen again, although
his harmonica-playing was appreciated.
He was not without talent, some said.
A botanist with whom I had become acquainted
actually suggested...Read more of this...
by
Ernest Dowson
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine...Read more of this...
by
Claude McKay
Your voice is the color of a robin's breast,
And there's a sweet sob in it like rain--still rain in the night.
Among the leaves of the trumpet-tree, close to his nest,
The pea-dove sings, and each note thrills me with strange delight
Like the words, wet with music, that well from your trembling throat.
I'm afraid of your eyes, they're so bold,
Searching me...Read more of this...
by
Vachel Lindsay
(Matthew V, 38-48.)
Who can surrender to Christ, dividing his best with the stranger,
Giving to each what he asks, braving the uttermost danger
All for the enemy, MAN? Who can surrender till death
His words and his works, his house and his lands,
His eyes and his heart and his breath?
Who can surrender to Christ? Many have yearned toward it daily.
Yet they surrender...Read more of this...
by
Rudyard Kipling
The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone;
'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own;
'E keeps 'is side-arms awful: 'e leaves 'em all about,
An' then comes up the Regiment an' pokes the 'eathen out.
All along o' dirtiness, all along o' mess,
All along o' doin' things rather-more-or-less,
All along of abby-nay, kul, an'...Read more of this...
by
Algernon Charles Swinburne
It does not hurt. She looked along the knife
Smiling, and watched the thick drops mix and run
Down the sheer blade; not that which had been done
Could hurt the sweet sense of the Roman wife,
But that which was to do yet ere the strife
Could end for each for ever, and the sun:
Nor was the palm yet nor was peace yet...Read more of this...
by
Omar Khayyam
«Edocet artes;
Fecundi calices quem non fecere disertum.»...Read more of this...
by
Victor Hugo
("Non, l'avenir n'est à personne!")
{V. ii., August, 1832.}
Sire, beware, the future's range
Is of God alone the power,
Naught below but augurs change,
E'en with ev'ry passing hour.
Future! mighty mystery!
All the earthly goods that be,
Fortune, glory, war's renown,
King or kaiser's sparkling crown,
...Read more of this...
by
Thomas Hardy
I
"Percussus sum sicut foenum, et aruit cor meum."
- Ps. ci
Wintertime nighs;
But my bereavement-pain
It cannot bring again:
Twice no one dies.
Flower-petals flee;
But, since it once hath been,
No more that severing scene
Can harrow me.
Birds faint in dread:
I shall not lose old strength
In the lone...Read more of this...
by
Rudyard Kipling
(Non-commissioned Officers in Charge of Prisoners)
When by the labor of my 'ands
I've 'elped to pack a transport tight
With prisoners for foreign lands,
I ain't transported with delight.
I know it's only just an' right,
But yet it somehow sickens me,
For I 'ave learned at Waterval
The meanin' of captivity.
Be'ind the pegged barb-wire strands,
Beneath the tall...Read more of this...
by
Francesco Petrarch
SONNET CXCIII. Cantai, or piango; e non men di dolcezza. THOUGH IN THE MIDST OF PAIN, HE DEEMS HIMSELF THE HAPPIEST OF MEN. I sang, who now lament; nor less delightThan in my song I found, in tears I find;For on the cause and not effect inclined,My senses still desire to scale...Read more of this...
by
Edgar Lee Masters
This weeping willow!
Why do you not plant a few
For the millions of children not yet born,
As well as for us?
Are they not non-existent, or cells asleep
Without mind?
Or do they come to earth, their birth
Rupturing the memory of previous being?
Answer! The field of unexplored intuition is yours.
But in any case why not plant willows for them,
As well as for us?...Read more of this...
by
Dimitris P Kraniotis
La nuit
qui a suicidé
les moments infinis
que je voudrais vivre,
a passé
sans que j’allume
la bougie
que je voudrais
qu’elle chauffe
les «non» et les «zéro»....Read more of this...
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