- Some examples of alliteration in poems by well-known authors
- 1- For a head
- 2- Torch in the sea
- 3- Songs of Life and Hope
- 4- Canticle
- 5- The Tempest
Here is a list of poems with alliteration, highlighting in bold the syllables, words or sounds that show this literary resource. Alliteration is a literary device that consists of repeating or reiterating words, syllables, letters or sounds, which in poetry is used as a rhetorical figure to embellish poems.
These repetitions must be given in consecutive or close words to fulfill their function and effect. Alliteration can occur throughout the entire poem or in some verses or lines of it.
In poetry, it is more common to find repetitions of a letter or sound than repetition of complete words, although there are also of this type.
Some examples of alliteration in poems by well-known authors
1- For a head
A head
of a noble Potri ment
that right on the ra and
loosens the lle gar
and that the return
seems to say
do not forget brother
you know, do not have to play
by a head
metejón day
of that flirtatious
and cheerful woman
who the smiling swear
love is lying
burns in a blaze
all my love
Por una cabeza
all the craziness
His bo AC kisses
bo RRA tris teza
calm bitterness
by a head
if she forgets me
matter to lose a
thousand sees ces the saw gives
what living
many disappointments
by a head
I swore a thousand times
not to insist again
but if a look
sways me on passing
his muzzle
again want to kiss.
(…)
Author: Alfredo Le Pera
2- Torch in the sea
A torch is the sea and, spilled
from your mouth, a voice of nouns,
of endings, fleeting, fugitive
fires melted in your founded skin.
One navigates snow slid
in re splandor eye re inflections,
of sound silences successive
and sun in salt for you wet.
The turmoil of color tries to
leave the tattooed
totality of the foam on your complexion.
Your body sounds like the sea. And your figure,
in the sand of the reflected air,
to sun, to salt, to be, to son, to sum.
Author: Marina de Jaime Siles
3- Songs of Life and Hope
I am the one who said yesterday
the blue verse and the profane song, on whose night a nightingale had
which was a lark of light in the morning.
I was the owner of my dream garden, full of roses and lazy swans;
the owner of the turtledoves, the owner
of gondolas and lyres on the lakes;
and very eighteenth century and very old
and very modern; bold, cosmopolitan;
With Hugo strong and Verlaine ambiguous, and an infinite thirst for illusions.
I knew of pain since my childhood,
my youth …. Was it my youth ?
Your roses still leave me their fragrance…
a fragrance of melancholy…
Unbridled foal my instinct launched, my youth rode a horse without bridle;
She was drunk and with a dagger at her belt;
if it did not fall, it was because God is good.
In my ja rdín was a beautiful statue;
is ju zgo marble and was living flesh;
a young soul dwelt in her,
sentimental, sensitive, sensitive.
And shy before the world, so
in ce sulated in if lencio no sa bundle, if not when the dul ce spring
it was time for the melody…
Time of sunset and discreet kiss;
twilight and retreat hour;
hour of madrigal and rapture,
of "I adore you", and of "oh!" and sigh.
And then the candy was a game
of mysterious crystalline ranges, a renewal of drops of Greek bread
and a reel of Latin music.
With air such and with ardor so alive,
which it is the Tattoo born of repen you
on the virile thigh legs of goat
and two horns sá you ro in fren you.
Like the Galatea gongorina
I loved the Marquise Verleniana, and thus joined the divine passion
a sensual human hyperesthesia;
all craving, all burning , pure sensation
and natural vigor; and without falsehood,
and without comedy and without literature…:
If there is a soul without wax, that is mine.
The ivory tower tempted my yearning;
I wanted to lock myself inside myself, and I was hungry for space and thirsty for heaven
From the shadows of my own abyss
(…)
Oh, the sacred forest! Oh the deep
emanation of the divine heart
from the sacred jungle! Oh the fertile
source whose virtue conquers destiny!
(…)
Life, light and truth, such a triple flame
produces the inner infinite flame.
Pure Art as Christ exclaims:
Ego sum lux et veritas et vita!
And life is mystery, blind light
and the inaccessible truth amazes;
grim perfection never surrenders,
and the ideal secret sleeps in the shade.
To be sincere is to be powerful;
of the snuda that is, the star shines;
the water says the soul of the fountain
in the crystal voice that flows from her.
(…)
A stone passed, thrown by a sling;
an arrow passed that sharpened a violent man.
The stone of the sling went to the wave,
and the arrow of hatred went to the wind.
(…)
Author: Rubén Darío
4- Canticle
Where did you hide,
Beloved, and leave me groaning ?
Like the deer you fled
having wounded me;
I came out after you crying out and you were gone.
Shepherds, those of you who go
through the sheepfolds to the hillock,
if by any chance you see the
one I love the most,
tell him that I suffer, suffer and die.
Looking for my loves I
will go through those mountains and banks;
I will not pick the flowers,
nor will I fear the beasts,
and I will pass the forts and borders.
Oh forests and thickets
planted by the hand of the Beloved!
Oh
enameled flower vegetable meadow !
Say if it has passed through you.
A thousand graces pouring
through these groves with haste;
and, looking at them,
with only his figure
clothed he left them of his beauty.
Alas, who can heal me?
She has just really delivered you;
do not want to send me
today more messenger
who do not know how to tell me what I want.
And all those who wander
about you say a thousand thanks to me,
and all the others
hurt me, and leave me dying
a I don't know what they are stammering.
But, how do you persevere,
oh life, not seeing where you live,
and causing you to die
the arrows that you receive
from what you conceive of the Beloved?
Why, then you have wounded
this heart, did you not heal it?
And, well, you have stolen him from me,
why did you leave him like that,
and don't take the theft that you stole ?
(…)
Away them, Beloved,
I 'm flying !
Come back, dove,
that the deer harmed
by the knoll appears in
the air of your flight, and takes fresh.
My Beloved the mountains,
the lonely nemorous valleys,
the strange islands,
the sonorous rivers,
the whistle of loving airs,
the peaceful night
in even the sunrise,
the quiet music,
the sonorous solitude,
the dinner that recreates and falls in love.
(…)
Author: Saint John of the Cross
5- The Tempest
- Alliteration. Recovered from wikilengua.org
- Definition of Alliteration. Recovered from rhetoricas.com
- Examples of alliteration. Recovered from examples.co
- Poem by Alfredo Le Pera. Recovered from queletras.com
- Poem by Marina de Jaimes Silles. Recovered from poemasde.net
- Poem by Rubén Darío. Recovered from poesi.as
- Poem of San Juan de la Cruz. Recovered from los-poetas.com
- Poem by José Zorrilla. Recovered from comayala.es