Get Your Premium Membership

Famous Sticks Poems by Famous Poets

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

See also:

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry
...ghed Pythagoras
Fingered upon a fiddle-stick or strings
What a star sang and careless Muses heard:
Old clothes upon old sticks to scare a bird.

 VII

Both nuns and mothers worship images,
But thos the candles light are not as those
That animate a mother's reveries,
But keep a marble or a bronze repose.
And yet they too break hearts - O presences
That passion, piety or affection knows,
And that all heavenly glory symbolise -
O self-born mockers of man's enterprise;

 ...Read more of this...
by Yeats, William Butler



...h roses
above the public squares,
 where consumption coughs,
where whores, hooligans and syphilis
 walk.

Agitprop
 sticks
 in my teeth too,
and I’d rather
 compose
 romances for you - 
more profit in it
 and more charm.

But I
 subdued
 myself,
 setting my heel
on the throat
 of my own song.
Listen,
 comrades of posterity,
to the agitator
 the rabble-rouser.

Stifling
 the torrents of poetry,
I’ll skip
 the volumes of lyrics;
as one alive,
 I’ll address the l...Read more of this...
by Mayakovsky, Vladimir
...recasting days ahead.



XXVI.
The soldiers' children, flaunting mimic flags, 
Played by the roadside, striding sticks for nags.
Their mothers wept, indifferent to the crowd
Who saw their tears and heard them sob aloud.
Old Indian men and squaws crooned forth a rhyme
Sung by their tribes from immemorial time; 
And over all the drums' incessant beat
Mixed with the scout's weird rune, and tramp of myriad feet.



XXVII.
So flawless was the union of each ...Read more of this...
by Wilcox, Ella Wheeler
...he morn: 
And, in the same moment¡ªhark! 
'Tis the early April lark, 
Or the rooks, with busy caw, 45 
Foraging for sticks and straw. 
Thou shalt, at one glance, behold 
The daisy and the marigold; 
White-plumed lilies, and the first 
Hedge-grown primrose that hath burst; 50 
Shaded hyacinth, alway 
Sapphire queen of the mid-May; 
And every leaf, and every flower 
Pearl¨¨d with the self-same shower. 
Thou shalt see the fieldmouse peep 55 
Meagre from its...Read more of this...
by Keats, John
...

And Gareth, wakening, fiercely clutched the shield; 
'Ramp ye lance-splintering lions, on whom all spears 
Are rotten sticks! ye seem agape to roar! 
Yea, ramp and roar at leaving of your lord!-- 
Care not, good beasts, so well I care for you. 
O noble Lancelot, from my hold on these 
Streams virtue--fire--through one that will not shame 
Even the shadow of Lancelot under shield. 
Hence: let us go.' 

Silent the silent field 
They traversed. Arthur's harp th...Read more of this...
by Tennyson, Alfred Lord



...e time 
that he knows he can't make a living to save his life, 
he is most certainly a genius. 

If he hangs on and sticks to poetry, 
notwithstanding sawing wood comes handier to him, 
he is a true genius. 

If he throws away every opportunity in life 
and crushes the affection and the patience of his friends 
and then protests in sickly rhymes of his hard lot, 
and finally persists, 
in spite of the sound advice of persons who have got sense 
but not any genius, 
pe...Read more of this...
by Montgomery, Lucy Maud
...of the pit:
A senseless, worthless, and unhonour'd crowd;
Who, to disturb their betters mighty proud,
Clatt'ring their sticks before ten lines are spoke,
Call for the farce, the bear, or the black-joke.
What dear delight to Britons farce affords!
Farce once the taste of mobs, but now of lords;
(For taste, eternal wanderer, now flies
From heads to ears, and now from ears to eyes.)
The play stands still; damn action and discourse,
Back fly the scenes, and enter foot an...Read more of this...
by Pope, Alexander
...noisey rooky park
Beneath the firdales branches dark
The little golden crested wren
Hangs up his glowing nest agen
And sticks it to the furry leaves
As martins theirs beneath the eaves
The old hens leave the roost betimes
And oer the garden pailing climbs
To scrat the gardens fresh turnd soil
And if unwatchd his crops to spoil
Oft cackling from the prison yard
To peck about the houseclose sward
Catching at butterflys and things
Ere they have time to try their wings
The cattl...Read more of this...
by Clare, John
...ut harm precedes not sin: only our foe, 
Tempting, affronts us with his foul esteem 
Of our integrity: his foul esteem 
Sticks no dishonour on our front, but turns 
Foul on himself; then wherefore shunned or feared 
By us? who rather double honour gain 
From his surmise proved false; find peace within, 
Favour from Heaven, our witness, from the event. 
And what is faith, love, virtue, unassayed 
Alone, without exteriour help sustained? 
Let us not then suspect our happy s...Read more of this...
by Milton, John
...er glared aloof.
But now an aged man in rural weeds,
Following, as seemed, the quest of some stray eye,
Or withered sticks to gather, which might serve
Against a winter's day, when winds blow keen,
To warm him wet returned from field at eve,
He saw approach; who first with curious eye
Perused him, then with words thus uttered spake:— 
 "Sir, what ill chance hath brought thee to this place,
So far from path or road of men, who pass
In troop or caravan? for single none
Durs...Read more of this...
by Milton, John
...

Two policemen surrounded by thousands of boys
Crowded waiting their daily bread joys
Carry big whistles & long bamboo sticks
to whack them in line They play hungry tricks

Breaking the line and jumping in front 
Into the circle sneaks one skinny runt
Two brothers dance forward on the mud stage
Teh gaurds blow their whistles & chase them in rage

Why are these infants massed in this place
Laughing in play & pushing for space
Why do they wait here so cheerful & dread
Why this...Read more of this...
by Ginsberg, Allen
...d through the strata, analyzed to a hair, counsell’d with
 doctors, and calculated close, 
I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones. 

In all people I see myself—none more, and not one a barleycorn less; 
And the good or bad I say of myself, I say of them.

And I know I am solid and sound; 
To me the converging objects of the universe perpetually flow; 
All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means. 

I know I am deathless; 
I k...Read more of this...
by Whitman, Walt
...

For earthquake swallowing earthquake
Uprent the Wessex tree;
The whirlpool of the pagan sway
Had swirled his sires as sticks away
When a flood smites the sea.

And the great kings of Wessex
Wearied and sank in gore,
And even their ghosts in that great stress
Grew greyer and greyer, less and less,
With the lords that died in Lyonesse
And the king that comes no more.

And the God of the Golden Dragon
Was dumb upon his throne,
And the lord of the Golden Dragon
Ran in t...Read more of this...
by Chesterton, G K
...sphere, 
557 Seraphic proclamations of the pure 
558 Delivered with a deluging onwardness. 
559 Or if the music sticks, if the anecdote 
560 Is false, if Crispin is a profitless 
561 Philosopher, beginning with green brag, 
562 Concluding fadedly, if as a man 
563 Prone to distemper he abates in taste, 
564 Fickle and fumbling, variable, obscure, 
565 Glozing his life with after-shining flicks, 
566 Illuminating, from a fancy gorged 
567 By apparition, plain a...Read more of this...
by Stevens, Wallace
...hearing almost tore.
She caught herself just starting in to listen.
What nerves she had: rattling like brittle sticks!
She wandered to the window, for the glisten
Of a bright moon was tempting. Snuffed the wicks
Of her two candles. Still she could not fix
To anything. The moon in a broad swath
Beckoned her out and down the garden-path.
Against the house, her hollyhocks stood high
And black, their shadows doubling them. The night
Was white and stil...Read more of this...
by Lowell, Amy
...will keep its hurt
for someone else. Christ knows enough
staunch guys have hitched him in trouble.
thinking his sticks were badges to wear.

4.
Spring rusts on its skinny branch
and last summer's lawn
is soggy and brown.
Yesterday is just a number.
All of its winters avalanche
out of sight. What was, is gone.
Mother, last night I slept
in your Bonwit Teller nightgown.
Divided, you climbed into my head.
There in my jabbering dream
I hear...Read more of this...
by Sexton, Anne
...terror, hide themselves in the thorny
bush.
I shout to you, "Don't be afraid, mother. I am here."
With long sticks in their hands and hair all wild about their
heads, they come nearer and nearer.
I shout, "Have a care, you villains! One step more and you are
dead men."
They give another terrible yell and rush forward.
You clutch my hand and say, "Dear boy, for heaven's sake, keep
away from them."
I say, "Mother, just you watch me."
Then I spur ...Read more of this...
by Tagore, Rabindranath
...sparks far up, and the red heart 
In sea-coals, crashing as they part 
To tiny flares, and kindling snapping, 
Bunched sticks that burst their string and wrapping 
And fall like jackstraws; green and blue 
The evil flames of driftwood too, 
And heavy, sullen lumps of coke 
With still, fierce heat and ugly smoke. . . . 
. . . And then the vision of his face, 
And theirs, all theirs, came like a sword, 
Thrice, to the heart -- and as I fell 
I thoug...Read more of this...
by Benet, Stephen Vincent
...ark my heavy bag and trudge

From room to room. The couch Emily died on, so shabby and so faded,

Patrick’s hat and sticks like stage props, Mrs. Gaskell’s escritoire

So thoroughly bourgeois, Charlotte’s crinoline evoking ‘Ooh’ and ‘Aah’.



I sat outside the tourist shop, watching the families pass,

Still reeling from the news of our son’s loss,

His life-in-death and death-in-life.



The crowds gone, the shops closed

I browsed over rock and lichen,

O sl...Read more of this...
by Tebb, Barry
...it over midnight!

A fly weighs twice as much.
The struck match nods as it passes,

But when I shout,
Its true name sticks in my throat.

It has to be cold
So the breath turns white,

And then mother, who's fast enough
To write his life on it?



A song in prison
And for prisoners,

Made of what the condemned
Have hidden from the jailers.

White--let me step aside
So that the future may see you,

For when this sheet is blown away,
What else is left

But to set the...Read more of this...
by Simic, Charles

Dont forget to view our wonderful member Sticks poems.


Book: Reflection on the Important Things