Famous Script Poems by Famous Poets
These are examples of famous Script poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous script poems. These examples illustrate what a famous script poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).
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...All actors look for them-the defining moments
When what a character does is what he is.
The script may say, He goes to the door
And exits or She goes out the door stage left.
But you see your fingers touching the doorknob,
Closing around it, turning it
As if by themselves. The latch slides
Out of the strike-plate, the door swings on its hinges,
And you're about to take that step
Over the threshold into a different light.
For the audience, you may...Read more of this...
by
Wagoner, David
...the work, I get the fun;
He has no tie for play;
Whereas with paddle, rod and gun
My life's a holiday.
As over crabbed script he pores
I can the sky's blue rim. . . .
Oh boy! While I have God's outdoors
I'll never envy Jim....Read more of this...
by
Service, Robert William
...ees, or trees from the earth, than they are shed out
of
you.
5
When the psalm sings instead of the singer;
When the script preaches instead of the preacher;
When the pulpit descends and goes, instead of the carver that carved the supporting desk;
When I can touch the body of books, by night or by day, and when they touch my body back
again;
When a university course convinces, like a slumbering woman and child convince;
When the minted gold in the vault smiles like th...Read more of this...
by
Whitman, Walt
...ur in the apartment
the picking up and picking up
and again picking up the telephone
The syllables uttering
the old script over and over
The loneliness of the liar
living in the formal network of the lie
twisting the dials to drown the terror
beneath the unsaid word
3.
The technology of silence
The rituals, etiquette
the blurring of terms
silence not absence
of words or music or even
raw sounds
Silence can be a plan
rigorously executed
the blueprint of a l...Read more of this...
by
Rich, Adrienne
...e decide that I needed more liver.My dad could decide that I needed less TV.Miss Brearly could say that I have to write script and stop printing. (I'm better at printing.)Chris could decide to stop being friends with me.The world could maybe come to an end on next Tuesday.The ceiling could maybe come crashing on my head.I maybe could run out of things for me to worry about.And then I'd have to do my homework instead....Read more of this...
by
Viorst, Judith
...this is worthless and that the language
I speak doesn't have an alphabet
Since the sun and the waves are a syllabic script
which can be deciphered only in the years of sorrow and exile
And the motherland a fresco with successive overlays
frankish or slavic which, should you try to restore,
you are immediately sent to prison and
held responsible
To a crowd of foreign Powers always through
the intervention of your own
As it happens for the disasters
But let...Read more of this...
by
Elytis, Odysseus
...n printer’s busy with my ‘Collected’
And, Calcutta typesetters permitting, it will be out this year
With the red gold script of sari cloth on the spine
And **** those dusty grey contemporary voices
Those verses will be mine.
Haslam’s a whole lot better but touchy as a prima donna
And couldn’t take it when I said he’d be a whole lot better
If he’d unloose his affects and let them scatter
I’m envious of his habitat, The Haworth Moors
Living there should be the inspirat...Read more of this...
by
Tebb, Barry
...anced himself on a flat boat painted black.
Each wave as I kneel closer a migrant flag
A tongue with syllables no script can catch.
The many births you have passed through, try to remember them as I do mine
Memory is all you have.
Still, how much can you bear on your back?
You’ve lost one language, gained another, lost a third.
There’s nothing you’ll inherit, neither per stirpes nor per capita
No plot by the riverbank in your father’s village of Kozenc...Read more of this...
by
Alexander, Meena
...Sometimes the notes are ferocious,
skirmishes against the author
raging along the borders of every page
in tiny black script.
If I could just get my hands on you,
Kierkegaard, or Conor Cruise O'Brien,
they seem to say,
I would bolt the door and beat some logic into your head.
Other comments are more offhand, dismissive -
"Nonsense." "Please!" "HA!!" -
that kind of thing.
I remember once looking up from my reading,
my thumb as a bookmark,
trying to imagine what the person m...Read more of this...
by
Collins, Billy
...the act of finding
What will suffice. It has not always had
To find: the scene was set; it repeated what
Was in the script.
Then the theatre was changed
To something else. Its past was a souvenir.
It has to be living, to learn the speech of the place.
It has to face the men of the time and to meet
The women of the time. It has to think about war
And it has to find what will suffice. It has
To construct a new stage. It has to be on that stage,
And, like an insa...Read more of this...
by
Stevens, Wallace
...
There is a poet, too, who is a friend and writes to me
From Hampstead, from a caf? in South End Green.
His cursive script on rose pink paper symptomatic
Of his gift for eloquent prose and poetry sublime
His elegy on David Gascoyne’s death quite takes my breath
And the title of his novel ‘Lipstick Boys’ I'll envy always,
There are some few I talk and write to
And occasionally meet. David Lambert, poet and teacher
Of creative writing, doing it ‘my way’ in the ninet...Read more of this...
by
Tebb, Barry
...ruse the years,
I tremble, and I curse my natal day,
Wail bitterly, and bitterly shed tears,
But cannot wash the woeful script away....Read more of this...
by
Pushkin, Alexander
...aw you tight.
A rubber man is an elusive rogue:
a fist gets sucked into the bog.
The rubber editor is scared of script,
the author is bogged down in it.
A rubber office I used to know
where "yes" was stretched to courteous "no".
I pity you, elastic crank,
as if erased, your past is blank.
You have erased many a passion, many a thought,
but you were happy and excited, were you not?...
Above the waist you are a cowardly man,
an ace of spade, and an ...Read more of this...
by
Voznesensky, Andrei
...Sandland where the salt water kills the sweet potatoes.
Homes for sandpipers—the script of their feet is on the sea shingles—they write in the morning, it is gone at noon—they write at noon, it is gone at night.
Pity the land, the sea, the ten mile flats, pity anything but the sandpiper’s wire legs and feet....Read more of this...
by
Sandburg, Carl
...ds of thuya are what
my body wants to say to your body. Giraffes are this
desire in the dark. Perhaps the spiral Minoan script
is not laguage but a map. What we feel most has
no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses, and birds....Read more of this...
by
Gilbert, Jack
...ond heart look,
That late dismay'd her faithless faith forbore;
And wins again her love lost in the lore
Of schools and script of many a learned book:
For thou what ruthless death untimely took
Shalt now in better brotherhood restore,
And save my batter'd ship that far from shore
High on the dismal deep in tempest shook.
So in despite of sorrow lately learn'd
I still hold true to truth since thou art true,
Nor wail the woe which thou to joy hast turn'd
Nor come the heavenly...Read more of this...
by
Bridges, Robert Seymour
...ds. In the village of Merchandise Creek
there's a post in a ruined blacksmith shop that bears
a charred-in black-letter script of iron characters,
hooks, bars, conjoined letters, a weird bush syllabary.
It is the language of property seared into skin
but descends beyond speech into the muscles of cattle,
the world of feed as it shimmers in cattle minds.
My uncle, nodding, identifies the owners
(I gather M-bar was mourned by thousands of head).
It has its roots in meadow...Read more of this...
by
Murray, Les
...ere in the gunpit spoil
the dishonoured picture of his girl
who has put: Steffi. Vergissmeinnicht.
in a copybook gothic script.
We see him almost with content,
abased, and seeming to have paid
and mocked at by his own equipment
that's hard and good when he's decayed.
But she would weep to see today
how on his skin the swart flies move;
the dust upon the paper eye
and the burst stomach like a cave.
For here the lover and killer are mingled
who had one body and one heart.
An...Read more of this...
by
Douglas, Keith
...surmise
he writes differently to me:
Do as you will, you have had your life
many have not
signing it in his olden script:
Meister aus Deutschland
•
In coldest Europe end of that war
frozen domes iron railings frozen stoves lit in the
streets
memory banks of cold
the Nike of Samothrace
on a staircase wings in blazing
backdraft said to me
: : to everyone she met
Displaced, amputated never discount me
Victory
indented in disaster striding
at the head of stairs
...Read more of this...
by
Rich, Adrienne
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