Famous Scarves Poems by Famous Poets

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

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Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came

by Robert Browning
My first thought was, he lied in every word,
That hoary cripple, with malicious eye
Askance to watch the working of his lie
On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford
Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored
Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.

What else should he be set for, with his staff?
What, save to waylay with his lies, ensnare
All travellers who...Read more of this...

The Emergency Drill

by Chris Jones
 We sat in the belly of the aeroplane
and held out for sirens to swerve across the grass;
men with cutting gear and masks. No-one came.
On a back seat, Mr. Phillips bandied jokes to pass
the time; the dark air cooling our arms
and scents like burrs stitched in hair, clothes.
In the distance we swore we heard alarms
before HQ radioed the fire-drill’s close,
and...Read more of this...

The Bee Meeting

by Sylvia Plath
 Who are these people at the bridge to meet me? They are the villagers----
The rector, the midwife, the sexton, the agent for bees.
In my sleeveless summery dress I have no protection,
And they are all gloved and covered, why did nobody tell me?
They are smiling and taking out veils tacked to ancient hats.

I am nude as a chicken neck, does...Read more of this...

Honors - Part I

by Jean Ingelow
A Scholar is musing on his want of success.)

To strive—and fail. Yes, I did strive and fail;
  I set mine eyes upon a certain night
To find a certain star—and could not hail
      With them its deep-set light.
Fool that I was! I will rehearse my fault:
  I, wingless, thought myself on high to lift
Among...Read more of this...

Metro North

by Mark Doty
 Over the terminal,
 the arms and chest
 of the god

brightened by snow.
 Formerly mercury,
 formerly silver,

surface yellowed
 by atmospheric sulphurs
 acid exhalations,

and now the shining
 thing's descendant.
 Obscure passages,

dim apertures:
 these clouded windows
 show a few faces

or some empty car's
 filmstrip of lit flames
 --remember them

from school,
 how they were supposed
 to teach us something?--

waxy light hurrying
 inches away...Read more of this...

Psalm 9

by Mahmoud Darwish
 O rose beyond the reach of time and of the senses
O kiss enveloped in the scarves of all the winds
surprise me with one dream 
that my madness will recoil from you 
Recoiling from you
In order to approach you 
I discovered time
Approaching you
in order to recoil form you
I discovered my senses
Between approach and recoil
there is a stone the size of...Read more of this...

Fever 103°

by Sylvia Plath
 Pure? What does it mean?
The tongues of hell
Are dull, dull as the triple

Tongues of dull, fat Cerebus
Who wheezes at the gate. Incapable
Of licking clean

The aguey tendon, the sin, the sin.
The tinder cries.
The indelible smell

Of a snuffed candle!
Love, love, the low smokes roll
From me like Isadora's scarves, I'm in a fright

One scarf will catch and anchor in the wheel.
Such yellow...Read more of this...

In Abbot Zan's Room at Dayun Temple: Four Poems (2)

by Du Fu
 Thin soft green silk shoe Shine bright white cotton scarf Deep store for old elder Fetch use for my body Self look change without interest Friendship how still new Daolin talent not age Huiyuan virtue surpass man Rain pour dusk eaves bamboo Wind blow green well celery Heaven dark face picture Most feel moist dragon scale Read more of this...

Peter Quince At The Clavier

by Wallace Stevens
I 

1 Just as my fingers on these keys 
2 Make music, so the self-same sounds 
3 On my spirit make a music, too. 
4 Music is feeling, then, not sound; 
5 And thus it is that what I feel, 
6 Here in this room, desiring you, 

7 Thinking of your blue-shadowed silk, 
8 Is music. It is like the...Read more of this...

Why We Tell Stories

by Lisel Mueller
 For Linda Foster


I
Because we used to have leaves
and on damp days
our muscles feel a tug,
painful now, from when roots
pulled us into the ground

and because our children believe
they can fly, an instinct retained
from when the bones in our arms
were shaped like zithers and broke
neatly under their feathers

and because before we had lungs
we knew how far it was to the bottom
as...Read more of this...

from imperfect Eden

by Rg Gregory
 (1)
and off to scott's (the dockers' restaurant)
burly men packed in round solid tables
but what the helle (drowned in hellespont)
this place for me was rich in its own fables
i'll be the lover sunk if that enables
an awesome sense of just how deep the spells
that put scotts for me beyond the dardanelles

lace-curtained windows (or memory plays me false)
no capped odysseus could...Read more of this...

Love Poem

by Richard Brautigan
 There is always something to be made of pain.
Your mother knits.
She turns out scarves in every shade of red.
They were for Christmas, and they kept you warm
while she married over and over, taking you
along. How could it work,
when all those years she stored her widowed heart
as though the dead come back.
No wonder you are the way you are,
afraid of...Read more of this...

Peace

by George Herbert
 And sometimes I am sorry when the grass
Is growing over the stones in quiet hollows
And the cocksfoot leans across the rutted cart-pass
That I am not the voice of country fellows
Who now are standing by some headland talking
Of turnips and potatoes or young corn
Of turf banks stripped for victory.
Here Peace is still hawking 
His coloured combs and scarves and beads...Read more of this...

January 31 (The sky is crumbling...)

by David Lehman
 The sky is crumbling into millions of paper dots
the wind blows in my face
so I duck into my favorite barber shop
and listen to Vivaldi and look in the mirror
reflecting the shopfront windows, Broadway
and 104th, and watch the dots blown by the wind
blow into the faces of the walkers outside
& here comes a thin old man swaddled in scarves,
he must...Read more of this...

Leather Leggings

by Carl Sandburg
 THEY have taken the ball of earth
 and made it a little thing.

They were held to the land and horses;
 they were held to the little seas.
They have changed and shaped and welded;
 they have broken the old tools and made
 new ones; they are ranging the white
 scarves of cloudland; they are bumping
 the sunken bells of the...Read more of this...

Dunes

by Carl Sandburg
 WHAT do we see here in the sand dunes of the white
moon alone with our thoughts, Bill,
Alone with our dreams, Bill, soft as the women tying
scarves around their heads dancing,
Alone with a picture and a picture coming one after the
other of all the dead,
The dead more than all these grains of sand one by one
piled here in the moon,
Piled...Read more of this...

Faces In A Crowd

by Barry Tebb
 The women are all wearing imitation silk scarves,

Blackpool or Biarritz, sipping Woman, masticating

The morning’s post, new babies and bathrooms, going

To file, snip, fiddle and smile through fish-eyes,

Crinkly green gloss, store it in stocking-tops

For next year abroad, that Pill, so perfect!



Flashing smiles from shiny domes and polished eye-lenses,

The men are glossy all over, snapping mortgages and scores

They slap fellow-souls at...Read more of this...

The Return

by Philip Levine
 Suddenly the window will open
and Mother will call
it's time to come in

the wall will part
I will enter heaven in muddy shoes

I will come to the table
and answer questions rudely

I am all right leave me
alone. Head in hand I
sit and sit. How can I tell them
about that long
and tangled way.

Here in heaven mothers
knit green scarves

flies buzz

Father dozes by the stove
after...Read more of this...

Javanese Dancers

by Arthur Symons
 Twitched strings, the clang of metal, beaten drums, 
Dull, shrill, continuous, disquieting: 
And now the stealthy dancer comes 
Undulantly with cat-like steps that cling; 

Smiling between her painted lids a smile, 
Motionless, unintelligible, she twines 
Her fingers into mazy lines, 
The scarves across her fingers twine the while. 

One, two, three, four glide forth, and, to and fro, 
Delicately...Read more of this...

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