Carl Sandburg

(6 January 1878 – 22 July 1967 / Illinois)

Carl Sandburg Poems

161. Slippery 1/27/2014
162. Windflower Leaf 1/27/2014
163. Haze 1/27/2014
164. North Atlantic 1/21/2014
165. Cartoon 1/21/2014
166. Films 1/27/2014
167. Horse Fiddle 1/27/2014
168. Handfuls 1/27/2014
169. Upstream 1/27/2014
170. And So To-Day 1/27/2014
171. Hoodlums 1/27/2014
172. Smoke 1/27/2014
173. Cups Of Coffee 1/27/2014
174. Hits And Runs 1/27/2014
175. Home Fires 1/27/2014
176. Hats 1/27/2014
177. Moonset 1/27/2014
178. Fire Dreams 1/27/2014
179. Proud And Beautiful 1/27/2014
180. In Tall Grass 1/27/2014
181. Chicks 1/21/2014
182. Have Me 1/27/2014
183. River Moons 1/27/2014
184. Manufactured Gods 1/27/2014
185. Half Moon In A High Wind 1/27/2014
186. Weeds 1/27/2014
187. Remembered Women 1/27/2014
188. Love Beyond Keeping 1/27/2014
189. Yes , The Dead Speak To Us 1/21/2014
190. Harvest Sunset 1/27/2014
191. Joliet 1/27/2014
192. The Sea Hold 1/10/2015
193. Sleepyheads 1/27/2014
194. Vaudeville Dancer 1/27/2014
195. Wind Song 1/27/2014
196. Prairie 1/21/2014
197. Cadenza 1/21/2014
198. Losers 1/27/2014
199. Snow 1/27/2014
200. Four Preludes On Playthings Of The Wind 1/27/2014

Comments about Carl Sandburg

  • Malkisedik Yahya (9/6/2008 12:01:00 PM)

    i love sandburg's works, especially that use the wor 'moon'..wish me luck b'coz i wanna write my undergraduate thesis about the meaning of sandburg's works that use the word 'moon'...

    177 person liked.
    162 person did not like.
  • Rosa Jamali (6/1/2008 2:39:00 PM)

    I think postmodern poetry owes Sandburg, as he was the first to describe machinery life, he expanded the range of words in poetry & he tried to add some new concepts, we have to reread Sandburg to go forward...

  • A. Michael Sears (2/13/2006 8:19:00 PM)

    What can I say? Carl Sandburg is truly a master. His ability to celebrate the beauty and greatness in all things common, is unmatched. And since the publication of 'Chicago Poems' in 1916, the voice of modern poetry has never been the same.

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

Dynamiter

I sat with a dynamiter at supper in a German saloon eating steak and onions.
And he laughed and told stories of his wife and children and the cause of labor and the working class.
It was laughter of an unshakable man knowing life to be a rich and red-blooded thing.
Yes, his laugh rang like the call of gray birds filled with a glory of joy ramming their winged flight through a rain storm.
His name was in many newspapers as an enemy of the nation and few keepers of churches or schools woul

[Report Error]