Famous Small White Poems by Famous Poets

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

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A Real Motorcycle

by Erin Moure
 Unspeakable. The word that fills up the
poem, that the head
tries to excise.
At 6 a.m., the wet lion. Its sewn plush face
on the porch rail in the rain.
Heavy rains later, & maybe a thunderstorm.
12 or 13 degrees.

Inside: an iris, candle, poster of the
many-breasted Artemis in a stone hat
from Anatolia

A little pedal steel guitar

A photograph of her at a table by...Read more of this...

At Bessemer

by Philip Levine
 19 years old and going nowhere, 
I got a ride to Bessemer and walked 
the night road toward Birmingham 
passing dark groups of men cursing 
the end of a week like every week. 
Out of town I found a small grove 
of trees, high narrow pines, and I 
sat back against the trunk of one 
as the first rains...Read more of this...

The New World

by Philip Levine
 A man roams the streets with a basket
of freestone peaches hollering, "Peaches,
peaches, yellow freestone peaches for sale."

My grandfather in his prime could outshout
the Tigers of Wrath or the factory whistles
along the river. Hamtramck hungered

for yellow freestone peaches, downriver
wakened from a dream of work, Zug Island danced
into the bright day glad to be alive.

Full-figured women in their negligees
streamed into the...Read more of this...

Provisions

by Margaret Atwood
 What should we have taken
with us? We never could decide
on that; or what to wear,
or at what time of
year we should make the journey

So here we are in thin
raincoats and rubber boots

On the disastrous ice, the wind rising

Nothing in our pockets

But a pencil stub, two oranges
Four Toronto streetcar tickets

and an elastic band holding a bundle
of small white filing cards
printed...Read more of this...

Artilleryman's Vision The

by Walt Whitman
 WHILE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long, 
And my head on the pillow rests at home, and the vacant midnight passes, 
And through the stillness, through the dark, I hear, just hear, the breath of my infant, 
There in the room, as I wake from sleep, this vision presses upon me: 
The...Read more of this...

Envoi

by Algernon Charles Swinburne
 Fly, white butterflies, out to sea,
Frail pale wings for the winds to try,
Small white wings that we scarce can see
Fly.

Here and there may a chance-caught eye
Note in a score of you twain or three
Brighter or darker of tinge or dye.

Some fly light as a laugh of glee,
Some fly soft as a low long sigh:
All to the haven where each...Read more of this...

Lament For Ignacio Sanchez Mejias

by Federico García Lorca
 1. Cogida and death 

At five in the afternoon. 
It was exactly five in the afternoon. 
A boy brought the white sheet 
at five in the afternoon. 
A frail of lime ready prepared 
at five in the afternoon. 
The rest was death, and death alone. 

The wind carried away the cottonwool 
at five in the afternoon. 
And the oxide...Read more of this...

Sonnet 01: Thou Art Not Lovelier Than Lilacs—No

by Edna St. Vincent Millay
 Thou art not lovelier than lilacs,—no,
 Nor honeysuckle; thou art not more fair
 Than small white single poppies,—I can bear
Thy beauty; though I bend before thee, though
From left to right, not knowing where to go,
 I turn my troubled eyes, nor here nor there
 Find any refuge from thee, yet I swear
So has it been with mist,—with moonlight so.

Like...Read more of this...

Variation On The Word Sleep

by Margaret Atwood
 I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head

and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear

I would like...Read more of this...

the plane and the blackbird

by Rg Gregory
 a cold bright sun
two days to christmas
a first-quarter moon
at a good vantage-point

a small white coffin
driven slowly uphill
from the cemetery gate
to the minimal grave

fifty people attending
unexpected collection
of nettle-stung hearts 
at a barely-lived dying

a shuffling past yews
thoughts finding rhythm
a lightness that bred
from a silent aceptance

a red-arrowed plane
in single formation
scissored the sky's blue
above the procession

sagittarian arrow
a sizzling of fire
an unconscious dipping
of wings...Read more of this...

Shadblow

by Linda Pastan
 Because the shad
are swimming
in our waters now,

breaching the skin
of the river with their
tarnished silvery fins,

heading upstream
straight for our tables
where already

knives and forks gleam
in anticipation, these trees
in the woods break

into flower--small, white
flags surrendering
to the season....Read more of this...

Depressed By A Book Of Bad Poetry I Walk Toward An Unused Pasture And Invite The Insects To Join Me

by James Wright
 Relieved, I let the book fall behind a stone.
I climb a slight rise of grass.
I do not want to disturb the ants
Who are walking single file up the fence post,
Carrying small white petals,
Casting shadows so frail that I can see through them.
I close my eyes for a moment and listen.
The old grasshoppers
Are tired, they leap heavily now,
Their thighs are...Read more of this...

Event

by Sylvia Plath
How the elements solidify! ---
The moonlight, that chalk cliff
In whose rift we lie

Back to back. I here an owl cry
From its cold indigo.
Intolerable vowels enter my heart.

The child in the white crib revolves and sighs,
Opens its mouth now, demanding.
His little face is carved in pained, red wood.

Then there are the stars - ineradicable, hard.
One touch : it burns and sickens.
I...Read more of this...

Honey Harvest

by Martin Armstrong
Late in March, when the days are growing longer
And sight of early green
Tells of the coming spring and suns grow stronger,
Round the pale willow-catkins there are seen
The year's first honey-bees
Stealing the nectar: and bee-masters know
This for the first sign of the honey-flow.

Then in the dark hillsides the Cherry-trees
Gleam white with loads of blossom where the gleams
Of piled snow lately hung,...Read more of this...

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