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.