英语诗歌因其节奏、思想意义及艺术价值,在英语教学中占有一席之地。小编整理了关于有趣的英文诗歌，欢迎阅读!

关于有趣的英文诗歌篇一

Next Door

by Joan Selinger Sidney

Oaks drag alongside the road，

weighted by yesterday‘s snow.

There‘s Frauka walking alone，

the hood of her parka

snow-lit against the trees.

I pull over. How is he? But before

I can answer， I see them last

summer： Frauka， and Father

leaning on Mother， wanting to believe

her will can make him well.

Sitting on the lawn，

pretending to read， I am unable

to tell them， My legs won‘t walk.

Go on without me.

Eleven years I‘ve protected them—

Holocaust survivors—by not naming

my disease. Wishing them dead

before they‘d see me in a wheelchair.

Frauka whispers， My younger brother

died one day before your father.

Tears rim her eyes， her slim

body shivers in the wind.

For a moment we are closer

in our sorrow than we‘ve ever been

关于有趣的英文诗歌篇二

Next Day

by Randall Jarrell

Moving from Cheer to Joy， from Joy to All，

I take a box

And add it to my wild rice， my Cornish game hens.

The slacked or shorted， basketed， identical

Food-gathering flocks

Are selves I overlook. Wisdom， said William James，

Is learning what to overlook. And I am wise

If that is wisdom.

Yet somehow， as I buy All from these shelves

And the boy takes it to my station wagon，

What I've become

Troubles me even if I shut my eyes.

When I was young and miserable and pretty

And poor， I'd wish

What all girls wish： to have a husband，

A house and children. Now that I'm old， my wish

Is womanish：

That the boy putting groceries in my car

See me. It bewilders me he doesn't see me.

For so many years

I was good enough to eat： the world looked at me

And its mouth watered. How often they have undressed me，

The eyes of strangers!

And， holding their flesh within my flesh， their vile

Imaginings within my imagining，

I too have taken

The chance of life. Now the boy pats my dog

And we start home. Now I am good.

The last mistaken，

Ecstatic， accidental bliss， the blind

Happiness that， bursting， leaves upon the palm

Some soap and water——

It was so long ago， back in some Gay

Twenties， Nineties， I don't know . . . Today I miss

My lovely daughter

Away at school， my sons away at school，

My husband away at work——I wish for them.

The dog， the maid，

And I go through the sure unvarying days

At home in them. As I look at my life，

I am afraid

Only that it will change， as I am changing：

I am afraid， this morning， of my face.

It looks at me

From the rear-view mirror， with the eyes I hate，

The smile I hate. Its plain， lined look

Of gray discovery

Repeats to me： "You're old." That's all， I'm old.

And yet I'm afraid， as I was at the funeral

I went to yesterday.

My friend's cold made-up face， granite among its flowers，

Her undressed， operated-on， dressed body

Were my face and body.

As I think of her I hear her telling me

How young I seem; I am exceptional;

I think of all I have.

But really no one is exceptional，

No one has anything， I'm anybody，

I stand beside my grave

Confused with my life， that is commonplace and solitary.

关于有趣的英文诗歌篇三

Niggerlips

by Martín Espada

Niggerlips was the high school name for me.

So called by Douglas

the car mechanic， with green tattoos

on each forearm，

and the choir of round pink faces

that grinned deliciously

from the back row of classrooms，

droned over by teachers

checking attendance too slowly.

Douglas would brag

about cruising his car

near sidewalks of black children

to point an unloaded gun，

to scare niggers

like crows off a tree，

he'd say.

My great-grandfather Luis

was un negrito too，

a shoemaker in the coffee hills

of Puerto Rico， 1900.

The family called him a secret

and kept no photograph.

My father remembers

the childhood white powder

that failed to bleach

his stubborn copper skin，

and the family says

he is still a fly in milk.

So Niggerlips has the mouth

of his great-grandfather，

the song he must have sung

as he pounded the leather and nails，

the heat that courses through copper，

the stubbornness of a fly in milk，

and all you have， Douglas，

is that unloaded gun.

关于有趣的英文诗歌篇四

One Petition Lofted into the Ginkos

by Gabriel Gudding

For the train-wrecked， the puck-struck，the viciously punched，

he pole-vaulter whose pole snapped in ascent.

For his asphalt-face，his capped-off scream，

God bless his dad in the stands.

For the living dog in the median

car-struck and shuddering on crumpled haunches，

eyes large as plates， seeing nothing， but looking，looking.

For the blessed pigeon who threw himself from the cliff

after plucking out his feathers just to taste a failing death.

For the poisoned， scalded， and gassed， the bayoneted，

the bit and blind-sided，asthmatic veteran who just before his first date in years

and years swallowed his own glass eye.

For these and all and all the drunk，

Imagine a handful of quarters chucked up at sunset，

lofted into the ginkgos and there，at apogee，

while the whole ringing wad pauses， pink-lit，

about to seed the penny-colored earth with an hour's wages

As shining， ringing， brief， and cheap as a prayer should be

Imagine it all falling into some dark machine brimming with nurses，

nutrices ex machina and they blustering out with juices and gauze，

peaches and brushes，to patch such dents and wounds.