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Famous Smokestacks Poems by Famous Poets

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

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by Sandburg, Carl
...BY day … tireless smokestacks … hungry smoky shanties hanging to the slopes … crooning: We get by, that’s all.
By night … all lit up … fire-gold bars, fire-gold flues … and the shanties shaking in clumsy shadows … almost the hills shaking … all crooning: By God, we’re going to find out or know why....Read More

by Ginsberg, Allen
...der grey painted bridge 
trestles. Way downstream along the river, as Monet saw Thames 
100 years ago, Con Edison smokestacks 14th street, 
& Brooklyn Bridge's skeined dim in modern mists-- 
Pipes sticking up to sky nine smokestacks huge visible-- 
U.N. Building hangs under an orange crane, & red lights on 
vertical avenues below the trees turn green at the nod 
of a skull with a mild nerve ache. Dim dharma, I return 
to this spectacle after weeks of p...Read More

by Ginsberg, Allen
...tand in the long 
 streets like endless Jehovahs! Moloch whose fac- 
 tories dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose 
 smokestacks and antennae crown the cities! 
Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch 
 whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch 
 whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch 
 whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! 
 Moloch whose name is the Mind! 
Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream 
 Angels! Crazy in Moloch! ********** i...Read More

by Sandburg, Carl
...tch, touches a button no man knew before.

The soldier with a smoking gun and a gas mask—the workshop man under the smokestacks and the blueprints—these two are brothers of the handshake never forgotten—for these two we give the salt tears of our eyes, the salute of red roses, the flame-won scarlet of poppies.

For the soldier who gives all, for the workshop man who gives all, for these the red bar is on the flag—the red bar is the heart’s-blood of the mother who gave...Read More

by Sandburg, Carl
...ON the one hand the steel works.
On the other hand the penitentiary.
Sante Fé trains and Alton trains
Between smokestacks on the west
And gray walls on the east.
And Lockport down the river.

Part of the valley is God’s.
And part is man’s.
The river course laid out
A thousand years ago.
The canals ten years back.

The sun on two canals and one river
Makes three stripes of silver
Or copper and gold
Or shattered sunflower leaves.
 Talons of...Read More

by Sandburg, Carl
...led-up collars on the top of a bus:
Breaths of the sea salt Atlantic, breaths of two rivers, and a heave of hawsers and smokestacks, the swish of multiplied sloops and war dogs, the hesitant hoo-hoo of coal boats: among these I listen to Night calling:
I give you what money can never buy: all other lovers change: all others go away and come back and go away again:
I am the one you slept with last night.
I am the one you sleep with tonight and tomorrow night.
I am the ...Read More

by Sandburg, Carl
Running along the deck railings are festoons and leaping
in curves are loops of light from prow and stern
to the tall smokestacks.
Over the hoarse crunch of waves at my pier comes a
hoarse answer in the rhythmic oompa of the brasses
playing a Polish folk-song for the home-comers....Read More

by Sandburg, Carl
...and women: a million white men came and put up skyscrapers, threw out rails and wires, feelers to the salt sea: now the smokestacks bite the skyline with stub teeth.

In an early year the call of a wild duck woven in greens and purples: now the riveter’s chatter, the police patrol, the song-whistle of the steamboat.

To a man across a thousand years I offer a handshake.
I say to him: Brother, make the story short, for the stretch of a thousand years is short.....Read More

by Sandburg, Carl
...and some: We should worry.

Yes, Kalamazoo is a spot on the map
And the passenger trains stop there
And the factory smokestacks smoke
And the grocery stores are open Saturday nights
And the streets are free for citizens who vote
And inhabitants counted in the census.
Saturday night is the big night.
 Listen with your ears on a Saturday night in Kalamazoo
 And say to yourself: I hear America, I hear, what do I hear?

Main street there runs through the middle of the...Read More

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