Sandburg Poems | Examples

Imagination

“Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar.” Carl Sandburg.

My creativity is soaring high,
like a butterfly in the bright blue sky,
Fran's cottage garden fills me with delight,
Inspired by nature, I begin to write,
I adore pretty flowers seen in spring,
you can almost hear woodland bluebells ring!
The rebirth of spring, and colours of fall,
these seasonal changes I love them all!
There's no need for AI or plagiarise -
if lacking ideas, open your eyes!

DAILY GRATITUDE LOVE

Today I’m grateful for babies and for Carl Sandburg
In today’s world they are the perfect pairing 
from which my gratitude is drawn…

Because a baby, as Carl Sandburg said, 
is God’s opinion
that the world is meant to on.

The Dance of Dances

“Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.” – Carl Sandburg.

Glowing like the roused firefly glows,
Stirring souls, poetry just knows,
Love, fire, boldest winds of desire,
Rains blessing, song without a choir.

Words pouring out soft, gentle prose,
Glowing like the roused firefly glows,
Glistening dreams, love to extremes,
Beckoning from silence that screams.

Dance of dances, fluid verses, 
Poetry that grace coerces,
Glowing like the roused firefly glows,
Poems who don’t just tell but shows.

Rhymes and rhythms, tenderly abide,
Singing of light, sometimes wild-eyed,
Hearts might remain in the shadows,
Glowing like the roused firefly glows,

Beat the Drums

Beat the drums; aye, beat the drums!
Make them go stark raving mad—
These likes of Emperor Jones. 1

The criminals' courts play house.
Adzes don't cut their own tails. 2
Where are Clinton, Bush, and Trump? 3

'We' are the people, the mob. 4
'We' are judges; 'we' punish.  
They should be ripped limb from limb.

Peaceful rallies will not do.
The criminals we'll tear up
On the streets across the globe.

Over!

1.14.2024

1 See The Emperor Jones, a short play by Eugene O'Neill.
2 A Persian adage
3 Three of the infamous slaughterers of the Bosnians, Afghans, Iraqis, and Syrians
4 See "I am the People, the Mob” by Carl Sandburg.


No comments, please!

Emagi Sandburg Fog

Carl Sandburg 'FOG'

Emagi Sandberg the People

Carl Sandburg 'THE PEOPLE ! YES'

               ///// 
             / _\////
              __ \  )
             \     /
              |   |
      people power= one man/one vote

The Best Company Ever

I love so much the book company, 
More than anything in the world,
More than cats or butterflies,  
Looking at the books in my room, soothe me,
Henry James amazes me, what intelligence,
Yachar Kemal makes me travel on Turkish roads
The pleasure of writing, of thinking, they offered that to me,
Books calm me more than anything,
Carl Sandburg, Billy Collins, Thucydides,
They are landscapes, angels from heaven,
Jean Giono amazes me; I go with him to Manosque,
My library offers me so many joys, Apollinaire, Sam Shepard,, 
Just looking at books makes me dream,
I’m thinking about Jack London, I’ve read everything,
He made history, so humanly, such humility,
I think of Marcel Proust, a genius,
Style makes the man, especially à l’ombre des jeunes filles en fleurs
I love so much the book company,
Camus, Alejo Carpentier makes me intelligent, so to speak,
They understood me, every word, every story, every verb,
Books understand me 
More than people, Kafka, Faulkner, Joyce, understand us,
They reassure me with their titles, their presences,
What would we be without books?
Thank them; look at them, life is short,
They are the best friends in the world.

Purple Pansies

Poetry is a mystic, sensuous mathematics of fire
smokestacks, waffles, pansies, people,
and purple sunsets.

                                  Carl Sandburg


PURPLE PANSIES

A pensive-pansy bouquet,
vibrant diffusion of lot,
Borscht belt, Catskill-sunshine core,
platonic petals of thought.

Purple pansies are childhood,
of God’s wide-eyed creation,
innocence in royal cloak,
a roused imagination.

Deft purpleness recollects,
not grandma’s frilly feast days -
a sixty’s mod Easter dress,
painted nails of royal praise.

Fresh fairyland apogee 
o’er green-sea, circular bowl.
Petal’s shades of light and dark -
a poet’s purple, vibrant soul.

6/1/2022
Purple Flowers Poetry Contest

used Rhymezone and HMS

Life Is a Garden

Carl Sandburg

Life is a garden; What’s not to like?
You can’t grow an onion without proper soil.
You peel back the rocky top and remove it,
You haul off the dirt next; there’s no lack of toil.

One layer of compost to place at the bottom,
another of oak leaves, well past their time.
And sometimes, delightful, the straw from a horse barn:
earthy, nutritious, amendment sublime.

You tend, and you water your beautiful garden
A fence of protection enhanced when you pray
But He who made onions put snakes, without pardon,
And there will be weeping when plans go astray.

—————

This also contains the same embedded Carl Sandburg quote.
The poem is “ok”, but I liked the “Keola - Rhyme” better.

Keola - Rhyme

Carl Sandburg

Precious, this life is, so swift and so fleeting,
wrapped in enigma, like an onion you peel.

It offers itself to the one who is willing
to weather the layers, at a time unrevealed.

And sometimes your laughing is turned into weeping,
but then, midst the darkness, joy noisily squeals.

—————

For the Keola Secret KA-CHING Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Hilo Poet
03/08/2022
Rhyme a/b/c/b/d/b

Inside the Mikros Kosmos

Where is the great engine of life?
  How many mechanics does it take 
  to keep it running smooth as a baby's bottom?
All those wheels and sockets and spindles ---
  must need great care;
The scientists say that if it ever broke down ---
  it wouldn't matter!
Its merely made of parts ---
  ordered from some non-existent wholesaler ---
  the great garage of cells and atoms (now dark matter)
Even the most callous child knows
  that great engines do not merely happen,
  but are created by great minds...

It seems we must put some of these 'great scientific minds'
  into a new category of stupid:
(they would make terrible mechanics)


(A la Carl Sandburg, whom I admire deeply)

Cubs Victory

Another World Series 
  I lay down and watched 
as the Cubs 
won it in ten
   A victory after one hundred and eight years of frustration 
My hometown team - the Mets 
   didn't mention it this year 
   but I salute the Cubs of Chicago 
Carl Sandburg wrote of that metropolis and 
    wrote of baseball 
Thousands upon thousands 
    of fans 
in 
the 
stands 
  cry out 
for the their team
   After the struggle 
 I pick up a pen - write this ode
   about the field of dreams

The Mets Or the Met

Should one watch sports or 
    go see great art 
Why not do both ? 
After all Carl Sandburg wrote a poem
   about baseball 
   and he was an artist 
No. I don't draw as well
    as the old masters
but I do enjoy doodling 
    There is no joy in Mudville 
   if you receive rejections letters!

Looking For Carl Sandburg

Looking for Carl Sandburg

almost one hundred years
after your Chicago apologetic
i am searching for century-old signs of the city
rushing to see them in a few too-short days
when it is bundled in 
cloud and rain and mist and fog
but the bold Big Shoulders are still there
braced against that famous wind
cocooning the brash and brazen young man
defiantly declaring the city as a
titan of industry

but still
on street corner after street corner
the polite poor sing to the city
jangling coins in paper cups
pauper islands in a luxurious sea of
business – industry – culture

almost one hundred years on
looking for signs of your city
i finally sense a shadow of you
sauntering down a grey sidewalk
in the mist and fog
your charcoal coat open – flapping
in the wind
your grey-white hair swept sideways
in that gentlemanly style

yet you are only almost visible
like a water-thin reflection or 
a film of clouds backlit by 
the inconstant moon

your steel eyes ponderous
your lips a solid line
the words to call your name
are as much an apparition as you
disappearing around the corner
a wraith in the mist

Ifog Cloud

they come like little pawed feet
gathering strings and yarns of life
silently sitting on their haunches
eager to peek further in the door
'til hounds arouse to nip at bytes 
and paws skitter and move on

© Goode Guy 2013-12-25

with appreciation to Carl Sandburg
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/174299

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