Poetical anti-obscurity

'howl'

Slyvia Plath's "Daddy" is pretty widely known, wasn't published until 1965 although clearly it was written before 1963, although I don't know exactly when.

Maya Angelou's "On the Pulse of Morning" had its day in the sun, and the N+7 of it that Clark Coolige and Larry Fagin wrote, "On the Pumice of Morons", is a classic.

The works of Theodor Geisel and, to a lesser extent, Shel Silverstein, are well known. "The Cat In The Hat" is from 1957; "Green Eggs and Ham", 1960.

Lew Welch wrote "Raid Kills Bugs Dead", easily his most famous poem, around 1966.

'This was Mr. Strugnell's room,' she'll say,
And look down at the lumpy, single bed.
'He stayed here up until he went away
And kept his bicycle out in that shed.

'He had a job at Norwood library--
He was a quiet sort who liked to read--
Dick Francis mostly, and some poetry--
He liked John Betjeman very much indeed

'But not Pam Ayres or even Patience Strong--
He'd change the subject if I mentioned them,
Or say "It's time for me to run along--
Your taste's too highbrow for me, Mrs. M."

'And up he'd go and listen to that jazz.
I don't mind telling you it was a bore--
Few things in this house have been tiresome as
The sound of his foot tapping on the floor.

'He didn't seem the sort for being free
With girls or going out and having fun.
He had a funny turn in 'sixty-three
And ran round shouting "Yippee! It's begun."

'I don't know what he meant but after that
He had a different look, much more relaxed.
Some nights he'd come in late, too tired to chat,
As if he had been somewhat overtaxed.

'And now he's gone. He said he found Tulse Hill
Too stimulating--wanted somewhere dull.
At last he's found a place that fits the bill--
Enjoying perfect boredom up in Hull.'

Smash aisles that echo with the groans
Of those tortured by the dialling tones
And the stench from filthy microphones
Of others' breath.

And get the oik with bloated gut
So joyful in his empty rut
Who tells you that nice girl's a slut
And slaps your back.

Atomise the girl with orange face
Whose smile betrays no human trace
She never will escape this place
Unless attacked.

But spare those working here unwilling
We're too pathetic for the killing
We'll gather round, gladly a-thrilling
To watch the flames.

So come rain fire upon this gloom
Consign it to its natural doom
We'll hold our breath before the boom
And then exhale.

Perhaps the easiest way to settle this is to see what the most recent poem referenced on the Simpsons is.

Creeley's "I Know a Man" occurred to me (with its "drive, he sd" line) but I doubt that is all that widely known.

Not Waving But Drowning

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much farther out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.

- Gwendolyn Brooks, 1960

I know that Brooks poem but I don't feel like it's widely known.

I don't know that thing jed posted at all.

Matt refers to The Hawk In The Rain. Hughes's style in Crow is an even easier to parody, and I've seen some good examples. Not sure how well-known the Crow poems are these days but in their day the collection sold in large numbers, picking up a lot of counter-culture readers who wouldn't have read much serious poetry.

This is a bit of an obvious thing to say, but I'd guess that the most recent well-known bit of poetry in America is probably attributed to "unknown" and arrived in your inbox circa 1997 at the tail of a much-forwarded email from your great-aunt.

Speaking of Basho...

i think they mentioned gravity's rainbow in that one too, as something the brainy college coeds were discussing. ?

So far I'd say this one is the clear winner for universality of recognition and parody potential.

(The cold plum thing is Wm. Carlos Williams, from circa 1930s, therefore prior to "Do not go gentle...")

(I'm not sure about the sissy kids—my memory may be deceiving me)

2.)2006 parody of Banjo Paterson's poem "Clancy of the Overflow":

Howard of the Overflow
(author unknown to FC)

I had written him a letter,
which I had, for want of better
knowledge, sent to where I met him
at the wheat board, years ago.

He was chairman when I knew him,
so I sent the letter to him
Just on spec, to make the point that
"Howard doesn't want to know".

And an e-mail came directed,
not entirely unexpected
And I think the same was written
in some Middle Eastern bar).

Twas his CEO who wrote it,
and verbatim I will quote it:
Fluggey's gone to Baghdad,
and we don't know where he are.

But when he left Australia,
he was going to meet Alia,
A trucking mob in Jordan,
who were keen to grease the wheels.

For 10 percent commission,
they could swing Saddam's permission
To get our wheat accepted;
it's the mother of all deals.

But I guarantee, Prime Minister,
there's nothing at all sinister.
The chaps at DFAT told us
that the sums looked quite okay.

When you're selling wheat in billions,
what's a quick 300 millions?
If it keeps the Nationals happy,
it's a tiny price to pay.

Sitting here at Kirribilli,
I've been thinking, willy-nilly,
That it's somehow reminiscent
of the children overboard.

I can handle Rudd and Beazley,
as I always do, quite easily
By endlessly protesting
that there's nothing untoward.

I'll tell Bush next time I meet him,
at The White House when I greet him,
And I'm sure he'll understand
about the wheat board's quid pro quo.

He'll forgive this minor error
in the global war on terror
When I look him in the eye
and tell him Howard didn't know.
(The Internet, May 2006)

We old dudes. We
White shoes. We

Golf ball. We
Eat mall. We

Soak teeth. We
Palm Beach; We

Vote red. We
Soon dead.