Marianne moore famous poems | Marianne moore best poems

Marianne Moore’s poetry stands out for its precision, originality, and deep moral intelligence. Writing in a voice that is both cool and compassionate, Moore brings together sharp observation, wit, and philosophical depth. Her poems often focus on animals, art, and everyday objects, but she uses these subjects to explore much larger questions—integrity, resilience, humility, and the complexity of human behavior.

Moore is famous for her meticulous craftsmanship: she shapes her poems with unusual syllabic patterns, careful line breaks, and vivid, layered imagery. This creates a texture that feels both controlled and alive. Her language blends scientific detail with playful irony, allowing the poems to feel intellectually rich while remaining emotionally engaging.
Marianne moore

A defining quality of Moore’s work is her belief in honesty and restraint. She often critiques arrogance or artificiality, praising instead the qualities of courage, patience, and authenticity. Poems like “The Fish,” “Poetry,” and “The Pangolin” show her ability to merge observation with ethical reflection.

Ultimately, Moore’s poetry invites readers to look closely at the world—its beauty, its contradictions, and its moral challenges. Through her precise and imaginative style, she teaches that true understanding requires both curiosity and humility.


An Octopus

of ice. Deceptively reserved and flat,
it lies "in grandeur and in mass"
beneath a sea of shifting snow-dunes;
dots of cyclamen-red and maroon on its clearly defined
pseudo-podia
made of glass that will bend–a much needed invention–
comprising twenty-eight ice-fields from fifty to five hundred
feet thick,
of unimagined delicacy.
"Picking periwinkles from the cracks"
or killing prey with the concentric crushing rigor of the python,
it hovers forward "spider fashion
on its arms" misleading like lace;
its "ghostly pallor changing
to the green metallic tinge of an anemone-starred pool."
The fir-trees, in "the magnitude of their root systems,"
rise aloof from these maneuvers "creepy to behold,"
austere specimens of our American royal families,
"each like the shadow of the one beside it.
The rock seems frail compared with the dark energy of life,"
its vermilion and onyx and manganese-blue interior expensiveness
left at the mercy of the weather;
"stained transversely by iron where the water drips down,"
recognized by its plants and its animals.
Completing a circle.

Nevertheless

you've seen a strawberry
that's had a struggle; yet
was, where the fragments met,

a hedgehog or a star-
fish for the multitude
of seeds. What better food

than apple seeds -  the fruit
within the fruit - locked in
like counter-curved twin

hazelnuts? Frost that kills
the little rubber-plant -
leaves of kok-sagyyz-stalks, can't

harm the roots; they still grow
in frozen ground. Once where
there was a prickley-pear -

leaf clinging to a barbed wire,
a root shot down to grow
in earth two feet below;

as carrots from mandrakes
or a ram's-horn root some-
times. Victory won't come

to me unless I go
to it; a grape tendril
ties a knot in knots till

knotted thirty times - so
the bound twig that's under-
gone and over-gone, can't stir.

The weak overcomes its
menace, the strong over-
comes itself. What is there

like fortitude! What sap
went through that little thread
to make the cherry red!

His Shield

The pin-swin or spine-swine
(the edgehog miscalled hedgehog) with all his edges out,
   echidna and echinoderm in distressed-
pin-cushion thorn-fur coats, the spiny pig or porcupine,
the rhino with horned snout–
   everything is battle-dressed.

Pig-fur won’t do, I’ll wrap
myself in salamander-skin like Presbyter John.
   A lizard in the midst of flames, a firebrand
that is life, asbestos-eyed asbestos-eared, with tattooed nap
and permanent pig on
   the instep; he can withstand

fire and won’t drown. In his
unconquerable country of unpompous gusto,
   gold was so common none considered it; greed
and flattery were unknown. Though rubies large as tennis-
balls conjoined in streams so
   that the mountain seemed to bleed,

the inextinguishable
salamander styled himself but presbyter. His shield
   was his humility. In Carpasian
linen coat, flanked by his household lion-cubs and sable
retinue, he revealed
   a formula safer than

an armorer’s: the power of relinquishing
what one would keep; that is freedom. Become dinosaur-
   skulled, quilled or salamander-wooled, more ironshod
and javelin-dressed than a hedgehog battalion of steel, but be
dull. Don’t be envied or
  armed with a measuring rod.

Marriage


This institution,
perhaps one should say enterprise
out of respect for which
one says one need not change one's mind
about a thing one has believed in,
requiring public promises
of one's intention
to fulfill a private obligation:
I wonder what Adam and Eve
think of it by this time,
this firegilt steel
alive with goldenness;
how bright it shows —
"of circular traditions and impostures,
committing many spoils,"
requiring all one's criminal ingenuity
to avoid!
Psychology which explains everything
explains nothing
and we are still in doubt.
Eve: beautiful woman —
I have seen her
when she was so handsome
she gave me a start,
able to write simultaneously


The Fish

wade
through black jade
Of the crow-blue mussel-shells, one keeps
adjusting the ash heaps;
opening and shutting itself like
an
injured fan.
The barnacles which encrust the side
of the wave, cannot hide
there for the submerged shafts of the
sun,
split like spun
glass, move themselves with spotlight swiftness
into the crevices–
in and out, illuminating
the
turquoise sea
of bodies. The water drives a wedge
of iron through the iron edge
of the cliff; whereupon the stars,
pink
rice-grains, ink-
bespattered jelly-fish, crabs like green
lilies, and submarine
toadstools, slide each on the other.
All
external
marks of abuse are present on this
defiant edifice–
all the physical features of
ac-
cident–lack
of cornice, dynamite grooves, burns, and
hatchet strokes, these things stand
out on it; the chasm-side is
dead.
Repeated
evidence has proved that it can live
on what can not revive
its youth. The sea grows old in it.

Silence

My father used to say,
"Superior people never make long visits,
have to be shown Longfellow's grave
nor the glass flowers at Harvard.
Self reliant like the cat —
that takes its prey to privacy,
the mouse's limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouth —
they sometimes enjoy solitude,
and can be robbed of speech
by speech which has delighted them.
The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence;
not in silence, but restraint."
Nor was he insincere in saying, "`Make my house your inn'."
Inns are not residences.

Rosemary


Beauty and Beauty's son and rosemary -
Venus and Love, her son, to speak plainly -
born of the sea supposedly,
at Christmas each, in company,
braids a garland of festivity.
Not always rosemary -

since the flight to Egypt, blooming indifferently.
With lancelike leaf, green but silver underneath,
its flowers - white originally -
turned blue. The herb of memory,
imitating the blue robe of Mary,
is not too legendary

to flower both as symbol and as pungency.
Springing from stones beside the sea,
the height of Christ when he was thirty-three,
it feeds on dew and to the bee
"hath a dumb language"; is in reality
a kind of Christmas tree.

The Paper Nautilus


For authorities whose hopes
are shaped by mercenaries?
  Writers entrapped by
  teatime fame and by
commuters' comforts?  Not for these
  the paper nautilus
  constructs her thin glass shell.

  Giving her perishable
souvenir of hope, a dull
  white outside and smooth-
  edged inner surface
glossy as the sea, the watchful
  maker of it guards it
  day and night; she scarcely

  eats until the eggs are hatched.
Buried eight-fold in her eight
  arms, for she is in
  a sense a devil-
fish, her glass ram'shorn-cradled freight
  is hid but is not crushed;
  as Hercules, bitten

  by a crab loyal to the hydra,
was hindered to succeed,
  the intensively
  watched eggs coming from
the shell free it when they are freed,—
  leaving its wasp-nest flaws
  of white on white, and close-

  laid Ionic chiton-folds
like the lines in the mane of
  a Parthenon horse,
  round which the arms had
wound themselves as if they knew love
  is the only fortress
  strong enough to trust to.

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