關於長篇經典英文詩朗誦

  詩歌是一種典型的文學形式,它既屬於文學,又是一種藝術。古今中外,對於詩歌的研究從未間斷,我們在研究的過程中發現詩歌的美,同時又在前人研究的基礎上創造出更好的詩歌作品。小編整理了關於長篇經典英文詩,歡迎閱讀!

  關於長篇經典英文詩篇一

  Sticks

  by Thomas Sayers Ellis

  My father was an enormous man

  Who believed kindness and lack of size

  Were nothing more than sissified

  Signs of weakness. Narrow-minded,

  His eyes were the worst kind

  Of jury — deliberate, distant, hard.

  No one could out-shout him

  Or make bigger fists. The few

  Who tried got taken for bad,

  Beat down, their bodies slammed.

  I wanted to be just like him:

  Big man, man of the house, king.

  A plagiarist, hitting the things he hit,

  I learned to use my hands watching him

  Use his, pretending to slap mother

  When he slapped mother.

  He was sick. A diabetic slept

  Like a silent vowel inside his well-built,

  Muscular, dark body. Hard as all that

  With similar weaknesses

  — I discovered writing,

  How words are parts of speech

  With beats and breaths of their own.

  Interjections like flams. Wham! Bam!

  An heir to the rhythm

  And tension beneath the beatings,

  My first attempts were filled with noise,

  Wild solos, violent uncontrollable blows.

  The page tightened like a drum

  Resisting the clockwise twisting

  Of a handheld chrome key,

  The noisy banging and tuning of growth

  關於長篇經典英文詩篇二

  Stonemason

  by James O'Hern

  My stonemason John says

  he uses Elberton granite from Georgia

  It has the best grain and lasts the longest

  How long is long I ask

  Oh he says a thousand years

  I want more than hard gray stone

  to guard her silence

  I want stone that stays alive

  a megalith jammed deep into earth

  an antenna to amplify the signals

  emitted from her ash and bone

  I went to Ireland

  looking for the perfect stone

  found stone cottages and monuments

  mountains and fields of stone

  continuous rows of stonewalls

  wound round the island like an offering

  I found stone carvings of mermaids

  and ancient unnamed river gods

  a Sheela-na-Gig I thought I recognized

  having seen her name

  on the walls of a cave in the Dordogne

  along with her portrait cut and shaped

  on the rounded surface of soft white stone

  There are no stones

  where my mother and I were born

  only the jagged edges of memory

  ground down by the desert molcajete

  to caliche and polished round pebbles

  leaving no trace of history

  but an abandoned pulque farm

  an adobe jail

  and a dried up river bed

  關於長篇經典英文詩篇三

  Stone Bird

  by Pattiann Rogers

  I remember you. You‘re the one

  who lifted your ancient bones

  of fossil rock, pulled yourself free

  of the strata like a plaster figure

  rising from its own mold, became

  flesh and feather, took wing,

  arrested the sky.

  You‘re the one who, though marble,

  floated as beautifully as a white

  blossom on the pond all summer,

  who, though skeletal and particled

  like winter, glimmered as solid as a bird

  of cut crystal in the icy trees.

  You are redbird—sandstone

  wings and agate eyes—at dusk.

  You are greybird—polished granite

  and pearl eyes—just before dawn,

  midnight bird with a reflective

  vacancy of heart like a mirror

  of pure obsidian.

  You‘re the one who flew down

  to that river from the heavens,

  as if your form alone were the only

  holy message needed. You were alabaster

  then in the noonday sun.

  Once I saw you rise without rising

  from your prison pedestal

  in the garden beneath the lime tree.

  At that moment your ghost

  in its haunting permeated every

  regality of the forest with light,

  reigned with disdain in thin air

  above the mountain, sank in union

  with the crosswinds of the sea.

  I remember you. You‘re the one

  who entered in through my death

  as if it were an open window

  and you were the sound of the serenade

  being sung outside for me, the words

  of which, I know now, are of freedom

  cast in stone forever.