public marks

PUBLIC MARKS from tadeufilippini with tags poesy & poems

This year

Archibald MacLeish – Wikipédia, a enciclopédia livre

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Archibald MacLeish Origem: Wikipédia, a enciclopédia livre. Saltar para a navegação Saltar para a pesquisa Archibald MacLeish MacLeish. Nascimento 07 de maio de 1892 Glencoe, Illinois Morte 20 de abril de 1982 (89 anos) Boston, Massachusetts Nacionalidade Estados Unidos Norte-americano/Estadunidense Ocupação Bibliotecário, romancista, advogado e poeta Prémios Prémio Pulitzer de Poesia (1933, 1953) National Book Award - Poesia (1953) Prémio Bollingen (1953) Prémio Pulitzer de Teatro (1959) Medalha Presidencial da Liberdade (1977) Gênero literário Romance Poesia Ensaio Movimento literário Modernismo Magnum opus Poemas Coligidos 1917 - 1952 Archibald MacLeish (Glencoe, Illinois, 7 de maio de 1892 – Boston, Massachusetts, 20 de abril de 1982) foi um poeta e bibliotecário da Biblioteca do Congresso. MacLeish foi ligado ao movimento Modernista e recebeu três prêmios Pulitzer por seu trabalho como escritor. Índice

Manuel Bandeira – Wikipédia, a enciclopédia livre

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Manuel Carneiro de Sousa Bandeira Filho (Recife, 19 de abril de 1886 — Rio de Janeiro, 13 de outubro de 1968) foi um poeta, crítico literário e de arte, professor de literatura e tradutor brasileiro. Considera-se que Bandeira faça parte da geração de 1922 da literatura moderna brasileira, sendo seu poema Os Sapos o abre-alas da Semana de Arte Moderna de 1922. Juntamente com escritores como João Cabral de Melo Neto, Gilberto Freyre, Clarice Lispector e Joaquim Cardoso, entre outros, representa o melhor da produção literária do estado de Pernambuco.

Ars Poetica by Archibald MacLeish | Poetry Magazine

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Ars Poetica By Archibald MacLeish A poem should be palpable and mute As a globed fruit, Dumb As old medallions to the thumb, Silent as the sleeve-worn stone Of casement ledges where the moss has grown— A poem should be wordless As the flight of birds. * A poem should be motionless in time As the moon climbs, Leaving, as the moon releases Twig by twig the night-entangled trees, Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves, Memory by memory the mind— A poem should be motionless in time As the moon climbs. * A poem should be equal to: Not true. For all the history of grief An empty doorway and a maple leaf. For love The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea— A poem should not mean But be.

There Was A Saviour Poem by Dylan Thomas - Poem Hunter

poet Dylan Thomas #25 on top 500 poets Poet's Page Poems Quotes Comments Stats E-Books Biography Videos Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Poems by Dylan Thomas : 85 / 100 « prev. poem next poem » There Was A Saviour - Poem by Dylan Thomas Autoplay next video There was a saviour Rarer than radium, Commoner than water, crueller than truth; Children kept from the sun Assembled at his tongue To hear the golden note turn in a groove, Prisoners of wishes locked their eyes In the jails and studies of his keyless smiles. The voice of children says From a lost wilderness There was calm to be done in his safe unrest, When hindering man hurt Man, animal, or bird We hid our fears in that murdering breath, Silence, silence to do, when earth grew loud, In lairs and asylums of the tremendous shout. There was glory to hear In the churches of his tears, Under his downy arm you sighed as he struck, O you who could not cry On to the ground when a man died Put a tear for joy in the unearthly flood And laid your cheek against a cloud-formed shell: Now in the dark there is only yourself and myself. Two proud, blacked brothers cry, Winter-locked side by side, To this inhospitable hollow year, O we who could not stir One lean sigh when we heard Greed on man beating near and fire neighbour But wailed and nested in the sky-blue wall Now break a giant tear for the little known fall, For the drooping of homes That did not nurse our bones, Brave deaths of only ones but never found, Now see, alone in us, Our own true strangers' dust Ride through the doors of our unentered house. Exiled in us we arouse the soft, Unclenched, armless, silk and rough love that breaks all rocks. Dylan Thomas

Epitaph on a Tyrant by W. H. Auden - Poems | Academy of American Poets

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Epitaph on a Tyrant W. H. Auden, 1907 - 1973 Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after, And the poetry he invented was easy to understand; He knew human folly like the back of his hand, And was greatly interested in armies and fleets; When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter, And when he cried the little children died in the streets.

William Carlos Williams - William Carlos Williams Poems - Poem Hunter

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William Carlos Williams William Carlos Williams (17 September 1883 – 4 March 1963 / New Jersey)

Dylan Thomas - Dylan Thomas Poems - Poem Hunter

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Dylan Thomas Dylan Thomas (27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953 / Swansea / Wales)

2010

Poet: Thomas Hardy - All poems of Thomas Hardy

Thomas Hardy (1840-1928 / Dorchester / England) Biography Poems Quotations Comments More Info Stats

Poet: Henry David Thoreau - All poems of Henry David Thoreau

Henry David Thoreau (1817 - 1862 / Boston / United States) Biography Poems Quotations Comments More Info Stats

Mist by Henry David Thoreau

Low-anchored cloud, Newfoundland air, Fountain head and source of rivers, Dew-cloth, dream drapery, And napkin spread by fays; Drifting meadow of the air, Where bloom the dasied banks and violets, And in whose fenny labyrinth The bittern booms and heron wades; Spirit of the lake and seas and rivers, Bear only purfumes and the scent Of healing herbs to just men's fields! Henry David Thoreau Mist Henry David Thoreau (1817 - 1862 / Boston / United States)

2008

RPO -- Marianne Moore : Silence

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Marianne Moore (1887-1972) Silence 1My father used to say, 2"Superior people never make long visits, 3have to be shown Longfellow's grave 4nor the glass flowers at Harvard. 5Self reliant like the cat -- 6that takes its prey to privacy, 7the mouse's limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouth -- 8they sometimes enjoy solitude, 9and can be robbed of speech 10by speech which has delighted them. 11The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence; 12not in silence, but restraint." 13Nor was he insincere in saying, "`Make my house your inn'." 14Inns are not residences.