Famous Seaweed Poems by Famous Poets

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

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Landscapes

by John Burnside
 Behind faces and gestures
We remain mute
And spoken words heavy
With what we ignore or keep silent
Betray us

I dare not speak for mankind
I know so little of myself

But the Landscape

I see as a reflection
Is also a lie stealing into
My words I speak without remorse
Of this image of myself
And mankind my unequaled torment

I speak of Desert without repose
Carved by relentless winds
Torn up...Read more of this...

Suzanne

by Leonard Cohen
 Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river 
You can hear the boats go by 
You can spend the night beside her 
And you know that she's half crazy 
But that's why you want to be there 
And she feeds you tea and oranges 
That come all the way from China 
And just when you mean to...Read more of this...

In Connemara

by George William Russell
 WITH eyes all untroubled she laughs as she passes,
 Bending beneath the creel with the seaweed brown,
Till evening with pearl dew dims the shining grasses
 And night lit with dreamlight enfolds the sleepy town.


Then she will wander, her heart all a laughter,
 Tracking the dream star that lights the purple gloom.
She follows the proud and golden races after,
 As...Read more of this...

The Final Poem

by Andree Chedid
 A forge burns in my heart.
I am redder than dawn,
Deeper than seaweed,
More distant than gulls,
More hollow than wells.
But I only give birth 
To seeds and to shells.

My tongue becomes tangled in words:
I no longer speak white,
Nor utter black,
Nor whisper gray of a wind-worn cliff, 
Barely do I glimpse a swallow,
A shadow's brief glimmer,
Or guess at an iris.

Where are the...Read more of this...

Zone

by Guillaume Apollinaire
ZONE 


In the end you are tired of this ancient world 
Shepherd oh Eiffel Tower the herd of bridges is bleating this morning 

You've had enough of living in Greek and Roman antiquity 

Here even the cars look antique 
Only religion has stayed new religion 
Has stayed simple like the hangars at Port-Aviation 

You alone in Europe are not ancient...Read more of this...

Travels With John Hunter

by Les Murray
 We who travel between worlds 
lose our muscle and bone. 
I was wheeling a barrow of earth 
when agony bayoneted me. 

I could not sit, or lie down, 
or stand, in Casualty. 
Stomach-calming clay caked my lips, 
I turned yellow as the moon 

and slid inside a CAT-scan wheel 
in a hospital where I met no one 
so much...Read more of this...

The Humble Home

by Victor Hugo
 ("L'église est vaste et haute.") 
 
 {IV., June 29, 1839.} 


 The Church{1} is vast; its towering pride, its steeples loom on high; 
 The bristling stones with leaf and flower are sculptured wondrously; 
 The portal glows resplendent with its "rose," 
 And 'neath the vault immense at evening swarm 
 Figures of angel, saint, or demon's...Read more of this...

Seaweed

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
WHEN descends on the Atlantic 
The gigantic 
Storm-wind of the equinox  
Landward in his wrath he scourges 
The toiling surges 5 
Laden with seaweed from the rocks: 

From Bermuda's reefs; from edges 
Of sunken ledges  
In some far-off bright Azore; 
From Bahama and the dashing 10 
Silver-flashing 
Surges of San Salvador; 

From the tumbling surf that buries 
The...Read more of this...

Irkallas White Caves

by Kenneth Patchen
 I believe that a young woman
Is standing in a circle of lions
In the other side of the sky.

In a little while I must carry her the flowers
Which only fade here; and she will not cry
If my hands are not very full.

±

Fiery antlers toss within the forests of heaven
And ocean’s plaintive towns
Echo the tread of celestial feet.
O the beautiful eyes...Read more of this...

A Bay In Anglesey

by John Betjeman
 The sleepy sound of a tea-time tide
Slaps at the rocks the sun has dried,

Too lazy, almost, to sink and lift
Round low peninsulas pink with thrift.

The water, enlarging shells and sand,
Grows greener emerald out from land

And brown over shadowy shelves below
The waving forests of seaweed show.

Here at my feet in the short cliff grass
Are shells, dried bladderwrack, broken glass,

Pale blue...Read more of this...

Storm-Racked

by Amy Lowell
 How should I sing when buffeting salt waves
And stung with bitter surges, in whose might
I toss, a cockleshell? The dreadful night
Marshals its undefeated dark and raves
In brutal madness, reeling over graves
Of vanquished men, long-sunken out of sight,
Sent wailing down to glut the ghoulish sprite
Who haunts foul seaweed forests and their caves.
No parting cloud reveals a watery star,
My cries are...Read more of this...

Landscapes

by John Burnside
 Behind faces and gestures 
We remain mute 
And spoken words heavy 
With what we ignore or keep silent 
Betray us 

I dare not speak for mankind 
I know so little of myself 

But the Landscape 

I see as a reflection 
Is also a lie stealing into 
My words I speak without remorse 
Of this image of myself 
And mankind...Read more of this...

two south coast poems (a) this morning i came within sound of the sea

by Rg Gregory
 for a man whose eyes till now were a bed of rock
whose hands were drier than deserts
the sea's voice drove fear up through the valley
the tributaries meandering inside me longing for outlet
shrivelled even as their own courses became straight

my demand for ocean died now the ocean approached

the clouds put up with a lot of invective from me today
not a...Read more of this...

A Grave

by Marianne Moore
 Man looking into the sea,
taking the view from those who have as much right to it as
 you have to it yourself,
it is human nature to stand in the middle of a thing,
but you cannot stand in the middle of this;
the sea has nothing to give but a well excavated grave.
The firs stand in a procession, each with an...Read more of this...

Baby's Seaside Grave

by Victor Hugo
 ("Vieux lierre, frais gazon.") 
 
 {XXXVIII., 1840.} 


 Brown ivy old, green herbage new; 
 Soft seaweed stealing up the shingle; 
 An ancient chapel where a crew, 
 Ere sailing, in the prayer commingle. 
 A far-off forest's darkling frown, 
 Which makes the prudent start and tremble, 
 Whilst rotten nuts are rattling down, 
 And...Read more of this...

Peter

by Marianne Moore
 Strong and slippery,
built for the midnight grass-party
confronted by four cats, he sleeps his time away--
the detached first claw on the foreleg corresponding
to the thumb, retracted to its tip; the small tuft of fronds
or katydid-legs above each eye numbering all units
in each group; the shadbones regularly set about the mouth
to droop or rise in unison like porcupine-quills.
He lets himself be...Read more of this...

The Bridge

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
 I stood on the bridge at midnight,
As the clocks were striking the hour,
And the moon rose o'er the city,
Behind the dark church-tower.

I saw her bright reflection
In the waters under me,
Like a golden goblet falling
And sinking into the sea.

And far in the hazy distance
Of that lovely night in June,
The blaze of the flaming furnace
Gleamed redder than the moon.

Among the long,...Read more of this...

To My Name-Child

by Robert Louis Stevenson
 1 

Some day soon this rhyming volume, if you learn with proper speed, 
Little Louis Sanchez, will be given you to read. 
Then you shall discover, that your name was printed down 
By the English printers, long before, in London town. 

In the great and busy city where the East and West are met, 
All the little letters did...Read more of this...

Colonel Martin

by William Butler Yeats
 I

The Colonel went out sailing,
He spoke with Turk and Jew,
With Christian and with Infidel,
For all tongues he knew.
'O what's a wifeless man?' said he,
And he came sailing home.
He rose the latch and went upstairs
And found an empty room.
The Colonel went out sailing.

 II

'I kept her much in the country
And she was much alone,
And though she may be there,' he...Read more of this...

The Poet's Simple Faith

by Victor Hugo
 You say, "Where goest thou?" I cannot tell, 
 And still go on. If but the way be straight, 
 It cannot go amiss! before me lies 
 Dawn and the Day; the Night behind me; that 
 Suffices me; I break the bounds; I see, 
 And nothing more; believe, and nothing less. 
 My future is not...Read more of this...

A Forsaken Garden

by Algernon Charles Swinburne
 IN a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland,
At the sea-down's edge between windward and lee,
Walled round with rocks as an inland island,
The ghost of a garden fronts the sea.
A girdle of brushwood and thorn encloses
The steep square slope of the blossomless bed
Where the weeds that grew green from the graves of its roses
Now lie dead.

The fields fall...Read more of this...

A Loafer

by John Davidson
 I hang about the streets all day,
At night I hang about;
I sleep a little when I may,
But rise betimes the morning's scout;
For through the year I always hear
Afar, aloft, a ghostly shout.

My clothes are worn to threads and loops;
My skin shows here and there ;
About my face like seaweed droops
My tangled beard, my tangled hair;
From cavernous and shaggy brows
My...Read more of this...

A Green Crabs Shell

by Mark Doty
 Not, exactly, green:
closer to bronze
preserved in kind brine,

something retrieved
from a Greco-Roman wreck,
patinated and oddly

muscular. We cannot
know what his fantastic
legs were like--

though evidence
suggests eight
complexly folded

scuttling works
of armament, crowned
by the foreclaws'

gesture of menace
and power. A gull's
gobbled the center,

leaving this chamber
--size of a demitasse--
open to reveal

a shocking, Giotto blue.
Though it smells
of seaweed and ruin,

this little traveling case
comes with such lavish lining!
Imagine breathing

surrounded...Read more of this...

In Rainy September

by Robert Bly
In rainy September when leaves grow down to the dark 
I put my forehead down to the damp seaweed-smelling sand.
What can we do but choose? The only way for human beings
is to choose. The fern has no choice but to live;
for this crime it receives earth water and night.

we close the door. "I have no claim on you."
Dusk comes. "The...Read more of this...

Storm Windows

by Howard Nemerov
 People are putting up storm windows now,
Or were, this morning, until the heavy rain
Drove them indoors. So, coming home at noon,
I saw storm windows lying on the ground,
Frame-full of rain; through the water and glass
I saw the crushed grass, how it seemed to stream
Away in lines like seaweed on the tide
Or blades of wheat leaning under the wind.
The ripple...Read more of this...

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