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Famous Short Narrative Poems

Famous Short Narrative Poems. Short Narrative Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Narrative short poems


by Louise Gluck
 The great man turns his back on the island.
Now he will not die in paradise
nor hear again
the lutes of paradise among the olive trees,
by the clear pools under the cypresses. Time

begins now, in which he hears again
that pulse which is the narrative
sea, ar dawn when its pull is stongest.
What has brought us here
will lead us away; our ship
sways in the tined harbor water.

Now the spell is ended.
Giove him back his life,
sea that can only move forward.



by Ben Jonson
FOLLOW a shadow it still flies you; 
Seem to fly it it will pursue: 
So court a mistress she denies you; 
Let her alone she will court you. 
Say are not women truly then 5 
Styled but the shadows of us men? 

At morn and even shades are longest; 
At noon they are or short or none: 
So men at weakest they are strongest  
But grant us perfect they're not known. 10 
Say are not women truly then  
Styled but the shadows of us men? 

by Mother Goose
  Robin Hood, Robin Hood,    Is in the mickle wood!Little John, Little John,    He to the town is gone.Robin Hood, Robin Hood,    Telling his beads,All in the greenwood    Among the green weeds.Little John, Little John,    If he comes no more,Robin Hood, Robin Hood,    We shall fret full sore!

by Hilaire Belloc
 When we are dead, some Hunting-boy will pass
And find a stone half-hidden in tall grass
And grey with age: but having seen that stone
(Which was your image), ride more slowly on.

Fight  Create an image from this poem
by Carl Sandburg
 RED drips from my chin where I have been eating.
Not all the blood, nowhere near all, is wiped off my mouth.

Clots of red mess my hair
And the tiger, the buffalo, know how.

I was a killer.
Yes, I am a killer.

I come from killing.
I go to more.
I drive red joy ahead of me from killing.
Red gluts and red hungers run in the smears and juices
of my inside bones:
The child cries for a suck mother and I cry for war.




Book: Reflection on the Important Things