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Famous Short Red Poems. Short Red Poetry by Famous Poets

Famous Short Red Poems. Short Red Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Red short poems

See also: Best Famous Short Poems | Short Member Poems | Best Short Member Poems | Top 100 Famous Short Poems

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by Mother Goose

A Chimney


Black within and red without;
Four corners round about.


by Amy Lowell

Red Slippers

 Red slippers in a shop-window, and outside in the 
street, flaws of grey,
windy sleet!


by Emily Dickinson

White as an Indian Pipe

 White as an Indian Pipe
Red as a Cardinal Flower
Fabulous as a Moon at Noon
February Hour --


by William Carlos (WCW) Williams

The Red Wheelbarrow

 so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.


by Mother Goose

Teeth And Gums


Thirty white horses upon a red hill,
Now they tramp, now they champ, now they stand still.


by Nizar Qabbani

Every Time I Kiss You

 Every time I kiss you
After a long separation
I feel
I am putting a hurried love letter
In a red mailbox.


by Carl Sandburg

Flux

 SAND of the sea runs red
Where the sunset reaches and quivers.
Sand of the sea runs yellow
Where the moon slants and wavers.


by Robert Creeley

Love

 The thing comes
of itself

 (Look up
to see
 the cat & the squirrel,
 the one
torn, a red thing,
 & the other
somehow immaculate


by Mother Goose

A Candle


Little Nanny Etticoat
In a white petticoat,
And a red nose;
The longer she stands
The shorter she grows.


by Edward Lear

G was a gooseberry

G

was a gooseberry,
Perfectly red;
To be made into jam,
And eaten with bread.

g!

Gooseberry red!


by Robert Louis Stevenson

I Love To Be Warm By The Red Fireside

 I LOVE to be warm by the red fireside,
I love to be wet with rain:
I love to be welcome at lamplit doors,
And leave the doors again.


by Hilaire Belloc

The Catholic Sun

 Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine,
There’s always laughter and good red wine.
At least I’ve always found it so.
Benedicamus Domino!


by Edward Lear

X was King Xerxes

X

was King Xerxes,
Who wore on his head A mighty large turban,
Green, yellow, and red.

x!

Look at King Xerxes!


by Edward Lear

P was a polly

P

was a polly,
All red, blue, and green,—
The most beautiful polly
That ever was seen.

p!

Poor little Polly!


by Michael Ondaatje

Application For A Driving License

 Two birds loved
in a flurry of red feathers
like a burst cottonball,
continuing while I drove over them.
I am a good driver, nothing shocks me.


by Edward Lear

H was Papas new Hat

H

was Papa's new Hat;
He wore it on his head; Outside it was completely black,
But inside it was red.


by Wang Wei

In The Hills

 White rocks jutting from Ching stream
The weather's cold, red leaves few
No rain at all on the paths in the hills
Clothes are wet with the blue air.


by Ogden Nash

Reflection On Caution

 Affection is a noble quality;
It leads to generosity and jollity.
But it also leads to breach of promise
If you go around lavishing it on red-hot momise.


by Edward Lear

There was a young person in red

There was a young person in red,
Who carefully covered her head,
With a bonnet of leather, and three lines of feather,
Besides some long ribands of red.


by William Carlos (WCW) Williams

The Great Figure

 Among the rain
and lights
I saw the figure 5
in gold
on a red
firetruck
moving
tense
unheeded
to gong clangs
siren howls
and wheels rumbling
through the dark city.


by Wang Wei

Remembrance

 A red berry grows
in the south country --
The boughs are full of them
when spring arrives.
Gather some, I pray,
and fill your pockets --
These are the best
forget-me-knots!


by Edward Lear

There was an old man of Port Grigor

There was an old man of Port Grigor,
Whose actions were noted for vigour;
He stood on his head till his waistcoat turned red,
That eclectic old man of Port Grigor.


by Edward Lear

There was an Old Man with a poker

There was an Old Man with a poker,
Who painted his face with red ochre.
When they said, "You 're a Guy!" he made no reply,
But knocked them all down with his poker.


by Omar Khayyam

And David’s Lips are lockt

And David’s Lips are lockt; but in divine
High-piping Péhlevi, with “Wine! Wine! Wine!
Red Wine!”—the Nightingale cries to the Rose
That yellow Cheek of hers to incarnadine.


by Emily Dickinson

If I shouldnt be alive

 If I shouldn't be alive
When the Robins come,
Give the one in Red Cravat,
A Memorial crumb.

If I couldn't thank you,
Being fast asleep,
You will know I'm trying
Why my Granite lip!


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