These Places Alliteration poems are examples of Alliteration poems about Places. These are the best examples of Places Alliteration poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Black squirrels bound skewways
from the house, shadowshifts
falling darkly on
dusty white autumnal
snow. Paw prints run
makeshift memories soon
snowed over. Leaping
on tree trunks they wind their
way upward on paths of birch
bark in quick roundhouse runs.
I watch them go from
a seat by the door
and eavesdrop on the
dripping eaves trough. Icicles
hang like stalactites
The heater blows dry
air over my face as
dust rides recirculated
draft flows and floats upward
in a beam of magnetic
light. A thin frosting
of human sloughcells
settles on the windowsill
in a regiment I
attack with the duster
before they regroup and
resettle. Single cells
born of a single self. I
pace circles on the
fading cream carpet.
< Banana ~ boat ~ Bob ~ is ~ a ~ slippery..... Boob
Thought ~ that ~ this ~ town ~ lost ~ it's .... groove
No ~ spice ~ no ~ life ~ no .... nothing
Little ~ lost ~ boy ~ now ~ looks ~ for ~ his ~ Lucy's .... ring
When ~ where ~ what ~ or ~ even ...... why
I'll ~ inquire ~ insist ~ innovate ~ or ~ even ..... lie
His ~ history ~ of ~ having ~ such ~ big ....... hamstrings
Maybe ~ even ~ mighty ~ magical ~ musical ~ fruits ~ and .... greens
Or ~ having ~ big ~ over-sized ~ onions ~ olives ~ and ..... Kiwi
screw ~ this ~ he's ~ scum ~ skewered ~ tossed ~ back ~ to ... sea
Poor ~ precious ~ pretty ~ Lucy ~ got ....... pranked
Cause ~ curious ~ Bob ~ couldn't ~ control ~ love ~ so ~ he .... sank
All ~ alone ~ and ~ now ~ very .... angry
Drowing ~ deep ~ in ~ own ~ do-do ~ droppings .... whopie
Luscious ~ Lucy ~ now ~ can ~ look ~ long ~ and ...... hard
For ~ another ~ fast ~ floating ~ free ~ salemens ~ not ~ selling.... lard
Luscious Love Lingers Contest
Busty Betty beguiled the besotted boys
Painfully plain Polly puzzled over her plight
Dapper Dan discovered the delights of drive-ins
Blushing busty Betty before long began to bulge
Polly perceived her problem and preceded
To point the poor papa and his problem to the priest
I live in a place striving for sobriety surrounded in alcohol looking for happiness trapped among our very own sadness. I hear my people’s laughs and I hear my people’s cries, but most of all I see their dreams because their dreams are my dreams because we remain not against each other today as enemies but hidden friends united through culture, language and blood. I laugh with my people and of course I cry with my people and I fight with my people but most of all I continue to dream with my people. I know who I am and where I am from to know where I been to still hope to where I am going to go. I feel darkness engulf not only myself but also almost my entire reservation’s race, no matter mixed or not because soon our culture and language will have no face without any more light to shine upon it. I know where I lived and still live to know if I will truly go where I truly want to go in life before I have my one walk with death. I know by a long shot that I am not the best but by a close hit on the reservation’s target I could be better.
I take a stand against self to stand against others to better a worsening crowd of many young lost indigenous souls waiting to be unknowingly found and waiting for something similar to what I’m about to write. I take a stand for self so that others know that we aren’t all lost and we can and will be found with the true hope of no one’s but your own. I take a stand because my brothers and sisters wont, I take a stand because now days most the people around me or within me can’t or don’t know how, I take a stand for the children who don’t have a father and mother as I once had, I take a stand for my unborn child almost here, I take a stand for courage because within me is filled with fear, I take a stand against because the alcohol and drugs within me now I just can’t stand, I take a stand for those around me who cannot stand, I take a stand for a culture dying on its knee’s trying to get back up, I take a stand for the forsaken yet to be forgiven self-stand.
I patiently wait, lying away in the darkness searching for light even though I can see the light I just don’t know how to get on thy path to the light. I am not alone, I know for a fact that I am not alone in my thoughts and feelings about life on earth here. I can see our pain, I can hear the hollers and screams, I can feel your anguish and I can smell our destruction. I walk through the reservation valley of darkness as if I am but a blind witness to our own destruction upon where many of us go unknown truly forever in depths of time, in the depths of death.
I know that I cannot give in or give up on a dream of a people’s dream where the buffalo in our young hearts and minds may roam around free and where the wolf warrior chief may rise above all odds and become thy greatest modern day warrior, the people seek him, the people crave him, the people need him, the people need someone to rise if not geographically the worldwide mentally.
With a loud hoot it alerted, with resounding clangs it boomed
The people were informed, that it had arrived
A lot in its stomach it carried,from far away it transported
To the city it headed,when all at the station boarded
The Express Train was soon gone.
driving down downtown
rain dots dancing
drenching downdrops dripping
driving down around
Butcher beats bloodied meats
Baker takes a heavy seat
Hands are flour’d, rolling dough
‘round wooded table to and fro,
Humming softly, braids and bakes
Bread loaves, muffins, pastries, cakes.
Olive bar, briny.
Plump lumps all soft and shiny.
Some are pitted while others, bare,
Engorged with peppers, cheeses fare
Better than their pitted mates
Drying out on doiley’d plates
For passerby to pluck and pop
Chew up, spit out
While they shop.
Around the corner fishes stare
with cold black eyes and, scaly, wear
ice chips chopped from big brick blocks
mouths agape, tails curled mid-flop,
salmon, tuna, rockfish, crab
laid out for hungry hands to grab.
Children, cranky, fuss and fret
"Time to go?" Oh no, not yet:
The cart wheels squeal, high heels keep time
as mothers vie for first in line -
in hurried hand the checks, they sign.
Bag boys bustle by the street,
stuffing cars with eggs, bread, meat,
then the station wagons wheel away:
Another busy market day.
Fashion shoe treads imprinted on the bisque beach
global longtitude/latitude design airborne print in flight
Honeycomb print slowly pacing synchronising footsteps
Concentric wave prints grouping Fine detail pattern soul
beside clearly printed diamond fishbone sports design
Heavily studded trail souls tread along large paw prints
Simply dotted aerobic shoeprint next to little dog paws
A new soft pink fluffy seaweed floats in lacy ocean foam
Large horseshoe prints clomp digging deeply in the sand
Smaller horseshoes gather meeting near a water trough
Fresh green seagrass clumped like freshly cut long lawn
cradles long ball strands of yellow ochre squirting beads
Bare feet touching soft sticky sand immersed wet in water
Naked footprints side by side breathing beach vibrations
Two lovehearts drawn in the light brown sand interlocked.
Sandcastles decorated with shells sit sturdily on the shore.
a proud flare in my uplifting joy
all the people pray in there coy
a cownless madow to bare
as we stay out of freedoms way
take a look at what u say
a lost boy was found
around the bent feather
When I was a kid I wanted to be in the ballet I just love the ballet. I really wanted
to be in the ballet but I wanted to be a brownie and a fork or spoon. Better than
Iever thought. I love my family. I love my parents and grandparents. I really need
to relax and enjoy the day with a cup of coffee or water. I want a mug of coffee
and I got one and have coffee all the time.