Famous Relentless Poems by Famous Poets

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

See also:

A Lesson In Vengeance

by Sylvia Plath
 In the dour ages
Of drafty cells and draftier castles,
Of dragons breathing without the frame of fables,
Saint and king unfisted obstruction's knuckles
By no miracle or majestic means,

But by such abuses
As smack of spite and the overscrupulous
Twisting of thumbscrews: one soul tied in sinews,
One white horse drowned, and all the unconquered pinnacles
Of God's city and Babylon's

Must wait, while here Suso's
Hand hones...Read more of this...

Second Ode to the Nightingale

by Mary Darby Robinson
 BLEST be thy song, sweet NIGHTINGALE, 
Lorn minstrel of the lonely vale ! 
Where oft I've heard thy dulcet strain 
In mournful melody complain; 
When in the POPLAR'S trembling shade, 
At Evening's purple hour I've stray'd, 
While many a silken folded flow'r 
Wept on its couch of Gossamer, 
And many a time in pensive mood 
Upon the upland mead...Read more of this...

Living In Sin

by Adrienne Rich
 She had thought the studio would keep itself;
no dust upon the furniture of love.
Half heresy, to wish the taps less vocal,
the panes relieved of grime. A plate of pears,
a piano with a Persian shawl, a cat
stalking the picturesque amusing mouse
had risen at his urging.
Not that at five each separate stair would writhe
under the milkman's tramp; that morning light
so coldly...Read more of this...

Ode to Meditation

by Mary Darby Robinson
 SWEET CHILD OF REASON! maid serene; 
With folded arms, and pensive mien, 
Who wand'ring near yon thorny wild, 
So oft, my length'ning hours beguil'd; 
Thou, who within thy peaceful call, 
Canst laugh at LIFE'S tumultuous care, 
While calm repose delights to dwell 
On beds of fragrant roses there; 
Where meek-ey'd PATIENCE waits to greet 
The woe-worn Trav'ller's weary feet,...Read more of this...

Adoration

by Adela Florence Cory Nicolson
   Oh, straight, white road that runs to meet,
            Across green fields, the blue green sea,
   You knew the little weary feet
            Of my child bride that was to be!

   Her people...Read more of this...

Beginners

by Walt Whitman
 HOW they are provided for upon the earth, (appearing at intervals;) 
How dear and dreadful they are to the earth; 
How they inure to themselves as much as to any—What a paradox appears their age; 
How people respond to them, yet know them not; 
How there is something relentless in their fate, all times;
How all times mischoose the objects...Read more of this...

The Church On Comiaken Hill

by Richard Hugo
 for Sydney Pettit

The lines are keen against today's bad sky
about to rain. We're white and understand
why Indians sold butter for the funds
to build this church. Four hens and a rooster
huddle on the porch. We are dark
and know why no one climbed to pray. The priest
who did his best to imitate a bell
watched the river, full of spirits, coil
below the...Read more of this...

The house where I was born (07)

by Yves Bonnefoy
 I remember, it was a morning, in summer,
The window was half-open, I drew near,
I could see my father at the end of the garden.
He was motionless, looking for something,
I could not tell what, or where, beyond the world,
His body was already bent over, but his gaze
Was lifted toward the unaccomplished or the impossible.
He had put aside his pick and...Read more of this...

Spiders

by Delmore Schwartz
 Is the spider a monster in miniature?
His web is a cruel stair, to be sure,
Designed artfully, cunningly placed,
A delicate trap, carefully spun
To bind the fly (innocent or unaware)
In a net as strong as a chain or a gun.

There are far more spiders than the man in the street
 supposes
And the philosopher-king imagines, let alone knows!
There are six hundred kinds...Read more of this...

Canzone XVI

by Francesco Petrarch
[Pg 124] CANZONE XVI. Italia mia, benchè 'l parlar sia indarno. TO THE PRINCES OF ITALY, EXHORTING THEM TO SET HER FREE.  O my own Italy! though words are vainThe mortal wounds to close,Unnumber'd, that thy beauteous bosom stain,Yet may it soothe my painTo sigh forth Tyber's woes,Read more of this...

Jump Rope

by Connie Wanek
 There is menace
in its relentless course, round and round,
describing an ellipsoid,
an airy prison in which a young girl
is incarcerated.

Whom will she marry? Whom will she love?
The rope, like a snake,
has the gift of divination,
yet reveals only a hint, a single initial.
But what if she never misses?

Is competence its own reward?
Will the rope never strike her ankle,
love's bite? The enders...Read more of this...

The Golf Walk

by Ellis Parker Butler
 Behold, my child, this touching scene,
The golfer on the golfing-green;
Pray mark his legs’ uncanny swing,
The golf-walk is a gruesome thing!

See how his arms and shoulders ride
Above his legs in haughty pride,
While over bunker, hill and lawn
His feet, relentless, drag him on.

And does the man walk always so?
Nay! nay I my child, and eke, oh! no!
It is a gait he...Read more of this...

In Salutation to the Eternal Peace

by Sarojini Naidu
 Men say the world is full of fear and hate,
And all life's ripening harvest-fields await
The restless sickle of relentless fate.

But I, sweet Soul, rejoice that I was born,
When from the climbing terraces of corn
I watch the golden orioles of Thy morn.

What care I for the world's desire and pride,
Who know the silver wings that gleam and glide,
The homing pigeons...Read more of this...

The Scissors-Grinder

by Vachel Lindsay
 The old man had his box and wheel
For grinding knives and shears.
No doubt his bell in village streets
Was joy to children's ears.
And I bethought me of my youth
When such men came around,
And times I asked them in, quite sure
The scissors should be ground.
The old man turned and spoke to me,
His face at last in view.
And then I thought those...Read more of this...

Sestina VIII

by Francesco Petrarch
[Pg 210] SESTINA VIII. Là ver l' aurora, che sì dolce l' aura. SHE IS MOVED NEITHER BY HIS VERSES NOR HIS TEARS.  When music warbles from each thorn,And Zephyr's dewy wingsSweep the young flowers; what time the mornHer crimson radiance flings:Then, as the smiling year renews,I...Read more of this...

To His Orphan Grandchildren

by Victor Hugo
 ("O Charles, je te sens près de moi.") 
 
 {July, 1871.} 


 I feel thy presence, Charles. Sweet martyr! down 
 In earth, where men decay, 
 I search, and see from cracks which rend thy tomb, 
 Burst out pale morning's ray. 
 
 Close linked are bier and cradle: here the dead, 
 To charm us,...Read more of this...

The Ships of Saint John

by Bliss Carman
 Where are the ships I used to know,
That came to port on the Fundy tide
Half a century ago,
In beauty and stately pride?
In they would come past the beacon light,
With the sun on gleaming sail and spar,
Folding their wings like birds in flight
From countries strange and far.
Schooner and brig and barkentine,
I watched them slow as the sails were furled,
And wondered...Read more of this...

The Negro Girl

by Mary Darby Robinson
 I. 

Dark was the dawn, and o'er the deep
The boist'rous whirlwinds blew;
The Sea-bird wheel'd its circling sweep,
And all was drear to view--
When on the beach that binds the western shore
The love-lorn ZELMA stood, list'ning the tempest's roar.


II. 

Her eager Eyes beheld the main,
While on her DRACO dear
She madly call'd, but call'd in vain,
No sound could DRACO hear,
Save the shrill...Read more of this...

Lines to Him Who Will Understand Them

by Mary Darby Robinson
 THOU art no more my bosom's FRIEND; 
Here must the sweet delusion end, 
That charm'd my senses many a year, 
Thro' smiling summers, winters drear.­ 
O, FRIENDSHIP! am I doom'd to find 
Thou art a phantom of the mind? 
A glitt'ring shade, an empty name, 
An air-born vision's vap'rish flame? 
And yet, the dear DECEIT so long 
Has wak'd...Read more of this...

Loves Lantern

by Joyce Kilmer
 (For Aline)

Because the road was steep and long
And through a dark and lonely land,
God set upon my lips a song
And put a lantern in my hand.
Through miles on weary miles of night
That stretch relentless in my way
My lantern burns serene and white,
An unexhausted cup of day.
O golden lights and lights like wine,
How dim your boasted splendors are.
Behold this little...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...

To a Very Wise Man

by Siegfried Sassoon
 I

Fires in the dark you build; tall quivering flames 
In the huge midnight forest of the unknown. 
Your soul is full of cities with dead names, 
And blind-faced, earth-bound gods of bronze and stone 
Whose priests and kings and lust-begotten lords
Watch the procession of their thundering hosts, 
Or guard relentless fanes with flickering swords 
And wizardry of ghosts. 

II

In...Read more of this...

To Some Birds Flown Away

by Victor Hugo
 ("Enfants! Oh! revenez!") 
 
 {XXII, April, 1837} 


 Children, come back—come back, I say— 
 You whom my folly chased away 
 A moment since, from this my room, 
 With bristling wrath and words of doom! 
 What had you done, you bandits small, 
 With lips as red as roses all? 
 What crime?—what wild and...Read more of this...

II. Written at Bamborough Castle

by William Lisle Bowles
 YE holy tow'rs, that crown the azure deep, 
Still may ye shade the wave-worn rock sublime, 
Though, hurrying silent by, relentless Time 
Assail you, and the winter Whirlwind's sweep! 
For far from blazing Grandeur's crowded halls, 
Here Charity hath fix'd her chosen seat, 
Oft listening tearful when the wild winds beat, 
With hollow bodings, round your ancient walls; 
And...Read more of this...

The Infanticide

by Friedrich von Schiller
 Hark where the bells toll, chiming, dull and steady,
The clock's slow hand hath reached the appointed time.
Well, be it so--prepare, my soul is ready,
Companions of the grave--the rest for crime!
Now take, O world! my last farewell--receiving
My parting kisses--in these tears they dwell!
Sweet are thy poisons while we taste believing,
Now we are quits--heart-poisoner, fare-thee-well!

Farewell, ye suns that once to joy...Read more of this...

Dont forget to view our wonderful member Relentless poems.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace