Carl Sandburg

(6 January 1878 – 22 July 1967 / Illinois)

Carl Sandburg Poems

1. Kreisler 1/27/2014
2. Palladiums 1/27/2014
3. Plaster 1/27/2014
4. Testimony Regarding A Ghost 1/27/2014
5. Spanish 1/27/2014
6. Crimson Rambler 1/27/2014
7. Near Keokuk 1/27/2014
8. Clinton South Of Polk 1/27/2014
9. Swirl 1/27/2014
10. Rusty Crimson 1/27/2014
11. Paula 1/27/2014
12. Leather Leggings 1/27/2014
13. Bilbea 1/27/2014
14. The Long Shadow of Lincoln: A Litany 6/19/2015
15. Timesweep 6/22/2015
16. Killers 2/1/2016
17. The Windy City [sections 1 and 6] 2/20/2016
18. Sandpipers 6/18/2016
19. Do You Want Affidavits? 1/27/2014
20. Carlovingian Dreams 1/27/2014
21. Calls 1/27/2014
22. Tangibles 1/27/2014
23. Streets Too Old 1/27/2014
24. Potomac Town In February 1/27/2014
25. Mammy Hums 1/27/2014
26. Five Towns On The B. & O. 1/27/2014
27. Blue Maroons 1/27/2014
28. Stripes 1/27/2014
29. Sandhill People 1/27/2014
30. Panels 1/27/2014
31. Real Estate News 1/27/2014
32. Three Violins 1/27/2014
33. The Plowboy 1/27/2014
34. Pick Offs 1/27/2014
35. Pigeon 1/27/2014
36. Ossawatomie 1/27/2014
37. Loin Cloth 1/27/2014
38. Mohammed Bek Hadjetlache 1/27/2014
39. Cahoots 1/21/2014
40. Corn Hut Talk 1/27/2014

Comments about Carl Sandburg

  • klaine (4/19/2018 10:58:00 AM)

    does he have any funny poems

    4 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Madison’s (3/2/2018 5:56:00 PM)

    I like the fog one and it has a message behind it you just have to figure it out.i love poems like

  • cole bob oese (1/26/2018 3:45:00 PM)

    cool bob h m h gb f v

  • sasmitarani nayak (11/10/2017 9:36:00 PM)

    very nice poem

  • Mehmet Ceran (11/10/2017 2:18:00 AM)

    iyi adamdı kendisi Allah rahmet eylesin

  • Kaycee Terpening (11/9/2017 11:02:00 AM)

    i like the alone it creative

  • Greg Bell Greg Bell (4/16/2017 4:51:00 PM)

    These days, Sandburg is an undervalued poet. I once spent many an hour listening to old records of him reciting his work. If you ever get the chance, listen to his 'Rutabaga Stories.' Pure magic.

  • Raymond Farrell (12/3/2015 6:33:00 AM)

    It is a pity that the academic elite these days do not hold Carl Sandburg in very high esteem compared to Stevens or Elliot or even John Ashbury in instances.

  • Barry Gross (3/2/2012 3:15:00 PM)

    When I listen to a politician trumpet proud words
    I wonder, if hidden by the lectern, are
    polished wingtips or long, hard boots.

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Best Poem of Carl Sandburg

Fog

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

Read the full of Fog

Noon Hour

She sits in the dust at the walls
And makes cigars,
Bending at the bench
With fingers wage-anxious,
Changing her sweat for the day's pay.

Now the noon hour has come,
And she leans with her bare arms
On the window-sill over the river,

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