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Famous Repeatedly Poems by Famous Poets

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

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by Murray, Les
...everyone who yearned to wear long pants
has essentially achieved them,
long pants, which have themselves been underwear
repeatedly, and underground more than once,
it is time perhaps to cherish the culture of shorts, 

to moderate grim vigour
with the knobble of bare knees,
to cool bareknuckle feet in inland water,
slapping flies with a book on solar wind
or a patient bare hand, beneath the cadjiput trees, 

to be walking meditatively
among green timber, through the grassy fo...Read More

by Frost, Robert
...lls were all buried, trees were few:
 He saw no stay unless he stove
A hole in somewhere with his heel.
 But though repeatedly he strove

And stamped and said things to himself,
 And sometimes something seemed to yield,
He gained no foothold, but pursued
 His journey down from field to field.

Sometimes he came with arms outspread
 Like wings, revolving in the scene
Upon his longer axis, and
 With no small dignity of mien.

Faster or slower as he chanced,
 Sitting...Read More

by Roethke, Theodore

I dream of journeys repeatedly:
Of flying like a bat deep into a narrowing tunnel
Of driving alone, without luggage, out a long peninsula,
The road lined with snow-laden second growth,
A fine dry snow ticking the windshield,
Alternate snow and sleet, no on-coming traffic,
And no lights behind, in the blurred side-mirror,
The road changing from glazed tarface to a rubble of ston...Read More

by Robinson, Edwin Arlington
He said, and raised the glass up to the light, 
“But I thank God for orchards.” And that glass 
Was filled repeatedly for the same hand 
Before I thought it worth while to discern
Again that I was young, and that old age, 
With all his woes, had some advantages. 
“Now, Archibald,” said Isaac, when we stood 
Outside again, “I have it in my mind 
That I shall take a sort of little walk—
To stretch my legs and see what you are doing. 
You stay and rest your ...Read More

by Sexton, Anne
...e I have: 
Max, Lois, Joe, Louise, 
Joan, Marie, Dawn, 
Arlene, Father Dunne, 
and all in their short lives 
give to me repeatedly, 
in the way the sea 
places its many fingers on the shore, 
again and again 
and they know me, 
they help me unravel, 
they listen with ears made of conch shells, 
they speak back with the wine of the best region. 
They are my staff. 
They comfort me. 

They hear how 
the artery of my soul has been severed 
and soul is spurting out up...Read More

by Emanuel, James A
...Repeatedly, that sturdy stump in me
bears up like stone,
beneath some ritual I see:
the blinding axe
swings up, holds,
that moment of its weightlessness
till I confirm the arm is mine;
I will it, grip,
feel moist the swelling handle,
the shudder rude,
the difference fallen.

Toward that chopping block
I carry in me woodthings—
infectious unde...Read More

by Justice, Donald
...the wood within is the dark wood,
Or wound no torn shirt can entirely bandage,
But the sad hand returns to it in secret
Repeatedly, encouraging the bandage
To speak of that other world we might have borne,
The lost world buried before it could be born.

Burchfield describes the pinched white souls of violets
Frothing the mouth of a derelict old mine
Just as an evil August night comes down,
All umber, but for one smudge of dusky carmine.
It is the sky of a peculiar s...Read More

by Moure, Erin
...herish, a hand her
Of doubt importance

Her imbroglio the winnowing of ever
Does establish

An imbroglio, ever
she does repeatedly declare

to no cold end
Admonish wit, at wit's end, where "wit" is


The cold of which
her azul gaze impart a stuttered pool

Memoria address me here (green)

Echolalic fear
Her arm or name in French says "smooth"

A wine-dark seam inside the head, this name
The "my" head I admit, or consonantal glimmer

Or wet fields the vines or eu...Read More

by Robinson, Mary Darby
...tner was not young, nor frail.
Next morning, at the breakfast table.
The PARROT, loud as he was able,
Was heard repeatedly to cry,
Who with the Parson toy'd? O fie!"

Old JENKINS listen'd, and grew pale,
The PARROT then, more loudly scream'd,
And MISTRESS JENKINS heard the tale
And much alarm'd she seem'd!
Trembling she tried to stop his breath,
Her lips and cheek as pale as death!
The more she trembled, still the more
Old JENKINS view'd her o'er and o'er;
And now her...Read More

by Berryman, John
...fter all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy
(repeatedly) 'Ever to confess you're bored
means you have no

Inner Resources.' I conclude now I have no
inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
Peoples bore me,
literature bores me, especially great literature,
Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as achilles,

Who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.
And the tranquil hill...Read More

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