Submit Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Best Image Poems

Below are the all-time best Image poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of image poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Image poems, articles about Image poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Image poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

New Image Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Image poems are below this new poems list.

IMAGE - VIOLENCE by austin, daver
In His Image - The Acrostic Style by Petersen Potter, Dorian
The dream , not the image by grant , James
Frame To image painful by Moubarak, Abdel latif
Mirror Image-a body of works contest by ROBERTS, SEREN
the image of a girl by ballerstein, erin
A Little Boy Image by Ellison, Jack
Sensational Seasonal Image by W., AnnaLinda
IMAGE OF GOD by Trifiatis, Demetrios
Small walking Boogeyman image firework by Nayak, Ravindra

View all new Image Poems

The Best Image Poems

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

A beautiful mirror

-Escape of the mountain-

Do you care about my breast?
The new curve - countryside corset. 
The beauty of every summer dress 
Laying down, wearing out gravity 
Embracing the same feeling; Your
hands indulged in. Passion and devotion, 
around perfumed scenery... 
     The perfect pair

Today we will pray,
Counting every second on the clock 
No longer the womanly figure before'
I will possess a new battle, 
around the virtues of my palace.

-Will you still be there, 
  when the hump and lump are gone?
-Will I still be the queen of your heart?
Patiently I shall wait and see, 
 in hopes to gain the time, breast cancer stole 
Leaving behind torn tissue, with a daily reminder of;
The one that got away.

---note---
A Focus on Breast Cancer 


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Artillery Rain

~Perfect Rain~

I can see!
All the tribulations around
A rage against the burning wind
Nobody hears the crackling sounds in my voice
Everybody avoids feeling the smoke hidden within
A rain so deep it burns all the enamel off my skin
A rain that cut my soul in half
Two-piece that will not entwine or merge down a dragon path
I feel this eternity has no ending blaze
Trigger happy rain, extinguishing a bonfire around my rose.

I will sleep under the artillery stars tonight
With the perfection of my fiery crystal lava teardrops
Washing the ashes of my face,
Suppressing the overwhelming fear
Knowing no one will ever, "BLAME IT ON THE RAIN!" 
As long as the torch keeps loading another artillery round.

~*~
PD
4/12/12
Trashed  #3, sponsor, Broken Wings
Date Trashed November 2nd, 2015


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

To Bloom in Red Flame

Underneath all the layers
Of tradition
Of religion 
Of philosophy
Of reason and understanding
I smolder
In passion's pleasure bed of red
Paroxysms of pleasure
Emanate from my core
Searing the shroud
Flames of fantasy's feast burn
Yearning I yearn and lie in wait
In my ambuscade 
with the relish to ravish ravaging 
every fiber 

Conceived in the throes of passion
My conception is my perception of life
Woven into my being
I’m prisoner to pleasure monomania
Obsession of desire hysteria
My cacoethes:  gratification gratified
Thus, I scintillate sparks
Riding on my satin flares
They captivate your stare

You see me
Feeling the heat of sultry flame
You want to play scorch torch game
So your reach out to touch
Mere kindling in my blazing wake
You quake as I slake your florid fantasy awake
Convulsing in temptation’s torment
You combust to lust
Consummating till consumed
Eliciting my passion flower bloom
In opulent oriental room
You swoon
Exertion exhausted
Gratification’s glory gained
Having tasted my reign
Revived your leave
Yet…
My image I’ve seared
On your flesh and mind
Branded, you’ll find
Your way back to me
Slave to my passion's decree
You’ll come to me

And I retreat
Enshrouded once more
In virgin layers
Of tradition
Of religion
Of philosophy
of reason and understanding
Biding my time
when sensuality sublime
calls me
to bloom in her red flame

Eileen


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Plus Size Sexy Siren

You are a plus size model: sexy, hot
Emaciated woman, you are not!
You have the curves; you have the booty too
Those skinny girls don’t hold a shine to you

You know you’re fat and yet you have that flair
You’re beautiful; you make them stop and stare
You claim your rolls are good enough to eat
Your man, he sees you as a tasty treat

You’ve got tattooed Miss Piggy on your arm
I think that it’s delightful-  quite the charm
You flaunt yourself In Big Girl style with verve
Make men just want to touch your every curve

Oh Tess, I do confess, you make me feel
That Big Girls too can have that sex appeal

Eileen Manassian Ghali











Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Truthful Mirror

I reflect the truth, yet you see a lie
I'm just a humble mirror, I wonder why
I love the shape, of your beautiful face
Why when you look, do you feel such disgrace?

The curve of your breasts, a delightful sight
You see them as misshapen and not quite right
The clothes you try on, somehow trick your mind
When you think you are fat, I think you're quite blind

If I were magic, I'd help you to see
All that is true, when you look into me
Upon reflection, you'd be satisfied
You'd marvel and feel, a measure of pride

For no other women, can compare to you
So uniquely splendid, please see what is true
The sum of your parts, breathtaking and whole
A subtle confidence, bubbling up from your soul

My true pleasure, is witnessing your smile
For you are a woman, with beauty and style
No need to be afraid, when you look into me
Look beyond your fears and see what I see.






Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Poet Warrior

My Dear Enemy
Here I am
In full armor
My quill is full of arrows
My bow is taunt and ready fro battle
My horse is pristine and shiny black
I am your enemy
As you are mine to the death
I shall take my bow and arrow
Pierce you through the heart
My king shall praise and honor me
For many battles so well fought
I know I have to shoot my arrows
To save my own pitiful soul

My dear enemy
I just long for you to know
Every arrow, every drop of blood
Every soul that must depart
Due to my fine skills and sharp arrow darts
I die along with you
I know not who you are
Yet a weep for your lost soul
I imagine other times
Maybe we would sit for tea and cookies
Laughing over words of glee
You and I so battle ready
I am sorry for all the battle scars
The blood that flows so deep
Every arrow that leaves my bow
I am sure it too, also weeps

My Dear Enemy
I prey today that before the dusk
One of you will have a finer bow
My heart no longer has the will
To fill my quill with arrows so
Today, I let one of you end my day
No longer can I live on this way
All my fine arrows fired
Have finally been on target
My Dear Enemy
I love you as any man
I have only love for humanity
I pray one day
Our Kings and Queens shall feel this way
As off the battle field, I am carried away


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Spiritual Moment

“Mystic Moment with you”

A natural look of who I am on the inside.
A reality check of who you are on the outside.

A mirror facing west makes the difference in you and me.
Open your eyes and see.

The child I was today is the reflection of you tomorrow.
The ideas of different skies drifted off without sorrow.

I am the good the bad, and the ugly…
A song permitting retrospection to delay the same face with yesterday’s glee.

From moon to admirable moon;
The dignity of holding the same tune.

I am the swan that swims through your veins.
You are what swim’s through my moods and rain.

The miracle of our heritage echoed so far away. 
Auspices now imitate metaphors that were under the surface bay.

An unknown look strays outside the window.
Behind the gates, that leads into tomorrow’s limbo.’

A mirage of turning around and seeing nobody but you and me.
Mystic moments that attract other moments of originality.

A dream that speaks about the image of my new beginning.
My courage polishes off the mirror image of a falling stars ending 
You are the beating pulse that resides on the inside and outside of my being. 

“You are the REFLECTION of my spiritual place”






Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Out of the Sun

              Stayed 
             in the sun 
              to long
               today
 The skin became the bark of a tree
 the soul turning to brittle scars
 for uncaring worlds to see.
             my face
            is a pile of 
           old owl bones
sewn into banks of midnight creeks...
even the plump, over ripened ones 
no longer look at me...
but if their car was desert flat,
their oil grim reaper black
they'd paint a wormy, water colored  smile...
slide it through my barbed wired heart
so long as I could spin the jack...
so I spin it until their potholes turn to satin-
               Stayed 
              in the sun
               to long
                today
the mind has smoothed over 
like pebbles in Saturn rings..
a forgotten spice in the conversation of life
an hour later the word snuggles up to me
               laughingly.

Tomorrow or forever( which ever comes first),
I'll stay wrapped inside
till my skin turns back to ivory
to an easter egg yesterday 
to a time of bouncing ball and spinning jack,
when the mind was a great silky nest...
the face a flowered meadow place 
where watercolors swirled all day, 
the heart worms kept at bay.

I'll stay hidden within the weeds, 
till the jewels of memories soothe 
every scar - every stripe,
the molten knots of cruelty,
till the sweetened fruit reclaims the tree.
until then only my curtains breathe...
       ...stayed in the sun 
              to long
                today






Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2013

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

FLAVORS OF HER ESSENCE


A woman's soul, is it as porous as the air that breaks the water and earth apart from each other? In the slither of liquid contours, this maiden's essence blows into tiny glints of filling days’ silent pages without having to fill in the blanks. But such fire in her navel; swelling, leaping forth unto a black dahlia of night dripping with all the kerosene stars like a tigress on a hidden, sensuous prowl... This is her shape. Then coming from metal gut, she fumes of musky-flavored energy, steaming the brain for a war of poker in a den filled with invincible men as she raises the bets for a royal flush of aces... This is her bullish time. Yet, curling into late evening she enters into the pillows of her soul rinsed from the bouquet and incense of a dulcet day, her bosom of long breaths warming the lamp gentle, temperate, and mild in peace, coasting along the ledge of her swan sleep... This is her soul's time, shape and peace. For Laura Loo's Second Place Challenge Resubmitted 6/27/2016 ----------- Place 2nd in the Contest:The Scent Of Your Soul Judged 10/18/2014


Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

NOVEMBER DREAMS




A marquee of stars dims, to beckon early winter’s stage;
Reflecting crunched flowers in ghastly hues, detached from their limp boughs.
The nightfall drapes hush of serenity , as flakes soothe trees’ nest.



 Andrea Dietrich's  October Bliss or November Dreams
10/09/2014



Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Simple Pen

            The Simple Pen

I am but a simple man with pen in hand
To cut open a slice of universe with verse
And with the ink
Let it bleed not red
It flows instead with mortal colors
Over a life well spent
What is left over
We drink this in a cup
Pour more to fill it up
But little at a time
Too much reality can cloud your mind
Said the simple man with bleeding pen

Entered in Tyshawn Knight's - "Advice for New Writers: Words of Wisdom in Verse" Poetry Contest on 6/02/15 
  

 


Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Optimistic Orange

It is the fragrant peel of Florida's fruit that comes in convenient slices.
The savory citrus that packs a punch - to my tongue it simply entices.
It is the sprightly stripe of a clown fish that says, "Look at me," unabashedly (no joke)
To read between the lines it has taught me, and in its splendor I am soaked.
It is the warmth inside a fire though his sister crimson gets all the credit.
It could be the light of your world if your vivacious heart would only let it
envelop you with its curious tone: the love of a rose - the brightness of the sun.
And though we might only think of traffic cones,
and hazard signs - for me - it is the lightness of a pun:
Orange you gonna ask me a question?
About how its wavering pathways on tropical seas
can bring the heaviest heart to ascension?
Or how its marriage of sweet strawberry and sour lemon
has brought to mind our engaging entanglement?
It isn't like the blue that's over our heads,
nor is it like the green that's beneath our feet.
Rather it is the hidden spark inside our hearts:
it isn't showy - but its beauty is discrete. Something to soothe
any gloomy day with gentle subtlety. To tell you the truth
orange is nothing dramatic
(perhaps that's why I like it)



Written March 4th, 2016
For the United Orange Contest hosted by Silent One


Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Time Soldiers On

Irregardless of effort 
or desire,
we can't stop time.

Weeks fall into months,
seasons stream past 
like runaway trains,
stamping birthdays on calendars,
etching wrinkles on skin,
planting age spots everywhere.

The galloping gobbler
moves ever onward,
with sharpened blade, 
to slice away memories, 
and bestow;

weaker eyesight,
diminishing strength,
brain skips,
plus popping  joints.

Alas, twilight stops soon for thee,
Twilight stops, now, for me.


cfa ? 9/2/2012
Revised 4/20/2014




Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Ugly


Underneath the exterior Gardenias bloom unannounced Lamenting that no one lifts the veil Yearning to be seen...


Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2013

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Tonight I Dream of You

Soft creeps the splendid dream tides of the night
The burning embers of heavens breath descends upon my dreams
Dreams of you, my love tonight
Sparkling wishes, amulet stars, a kiss goodnight.

Heart withstanding aches I dare retrace,
I am accompanied by a newfound face, an explorer’s vision
Tears of joy sprout from their jeweled wings,
Flying toward the smiling moon,
I welcome dreams…tonight, I welcome you
Where whispers trail the sleeping waters.... my love goodnight
Unending sails, hearts submerged in love's delight
Tonight I dream of you
On the rosy fields of memoirs sweet

Soft, tender breezes remind me of your crescent touch..
I curl into the swaying waters, cradled by our memory
Where once you smiled in afterthought, and I in golden reverie
Would beauty among these gentle scenes kindly draw you in?
So maybe we can share the graces of light that lives within
Soft moonlit roses, dripping in night-shined dew,
Yes, even as they close, tonight I dream of you.

Take my hand, don’t let me leave this land
For it thrives on our love’s horizon, 
Draw your words upon my life, and let night take its stand
But before I sleep, my love tonight. Oh let me seal it with a kiss. 
That in beauty's dream my light would float in your love's eternity.
A thousand saddest days may come, and a thousand darkest dreams
But I'll chase them all for you my love, just to have you in my dreams.

These eyes closed tightly with the rosebuds ,
Shall open before clouds, dark and awry
And in the ground, my love for you shall yet still bloom,
Fed by the healing rain, and your steady love refrain
When tonight I dream of you

-A special collaboration with poet Mustapha Mohammad-


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

"Walls Between Passion"

written by Michael & The Mysterious Lady of Soup


                                                 Michael
                            The walls are tall but I know your there.
                          I hear your voice and the thoughs we share.
                                 So close but can't touch your hand,
                 all I could do is spill out my words and let my pencil land.
                                              Lady of Soup
                         I can feel your heartbeat beyond these walls,
                                one tear drop and my pencil falls.
                           The image of you vibrates my desired needs,
                            every thought about you inside me exceeds.
                                                 Michael
                                   I press my palm on the door,
                      just to feel your hand makes me want you more.
                          My chest is beating to your song of desire.
                      To be inside your body and feel your waves of fire.
                                              Lady of Soup
                        I take a deep breath to feel your essence here.
                           In my mind, the image of becomes so clear.
                             I can not calm a single thought about you.
                  I place my hands on my chest in hopes you get through.
                                                 Michael
                        Soon this door will open , and all shall be revealed.
                     So many things to be said, will start with kisses sealed.
                           To see you standing in your beauty and appeal
                              I have to have you as our passion will steal
                                             Lady of  Soup
                      The time has come for us to be in each others arms
                  before you opened the door, you had me with your charms.
               Lets throw these notes away, and feel the desire for each other.
               Lets keep this a secret between us, my dear poet and sexy lover..


Copyright © Michael J. Falotico | Year Posted 2010

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

My Left Breast

strange it was there just the other day 
hanging about as usual, 
reminding me in my mirrored image 
of my definite femininity 
now gone, am I less of a woman? 
will you look at me differently, 
or strangely as I do myself? 

I never really gave it much thought before 
of how things come in pairs 
how lonely one would be without the other 
how misshaped one appears, 
no longer jutting forward, 
proclaiming sensuality 
thrusting into the limelight, 

now scars and a flattened ego, 
fill my robe, bras useless without stuffing 
men, look at me in horror, 
women in shock and pity 
and with gratitude, yes that it is not them 
my left breast is missing 
no not missing, taken, stolen...

it was just a lump a few weeks ago 
a tiny pea shaped knob, 
that hid its cancerous intentions
so very well, yet lay in silence waiting 
to steal away that part of me
that defined who I was 
what purpose I served in society 

am I still a woman, a sexual being? 
I'm not sure, my right breast thinks so 
but yearns for its mate, 
the image in the mirror just doesn't seem right 
unequal in its proportions, glaringly lopsided
my left breast is gone, surgically removed  
I can still hear its scream


Copyright © Bernadette Langer | Year Posted 2006

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

POETRY PRELUDE





knitted by stars

   words hang on fired lanterns

       as rhymes serenade

trailing down nightfall deep…

        ink freezes midway



5/08/2016
Short Poem Poetry ___ for Andrea Dietrich
modern tanka in 26 syls


Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

GIFT OF SPRINGTIME



Praise this moment with charms it brings
Through mid of June, on robins' wings

Sunflowers blush as petals creep
Along easels of meadow's keep.

Winter's arctic days now long gone,
That morn's fair promise trails upon

Breezes sweet , once an icy blast,
Engrave a kiss on spring at last.

Earth aflame in a varnished show
Awash with paint where all things flow.

Cardinal swoons with trilled refrains
Upon leaves' edges  like beaded grains,

For springtime is a godly rite 
When heaven molds  its prized delight!

           
 .................
Couplet Time for Rick Parise
8/23/2016


Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

SnOw SNoW snOw

 *Sno*W S*noW * SNO*W*

----------------------------------
**SNOW FLAKES** 
snowflakes on my tongue
snowball splat on my jacket
icy game of fun
----------------------------------
**wonderland of snow**
shiver me timber
once upon a green, white end
icicle cascade
---------------------------------- 
**A gem of snow**
silent of beauty
pearly blanket, wet sparkle
nice hibernation 
----------------------------------
**Snow Angel**
winters treasure chest
body print engraved in ice
wings for an angle
----------------------------------
**JACK FROST**
cold winter weather 
zero below temperature
frosty the snowman
---------------------------------
**SNOW*SNOW*SNOW**
a lifetime of Wait
it's awkward to see snowflakes 
Texas miracle
---------------------------------

Contest: SNOW
11-28-10


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2010

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

If Children Were Puppies

                                                IF MY
                                            CHILDREN
                                         WERE PUPPIES
                                            THEY’D BE
                                               NICER
                                                  TO
                                                  ME.
                                THEY WOULD NOT BE FUSSY
                        AND            TALK BACK YOU            SEE.                       
                       SIT             BRAVE AND LOYAL           NOT                        
                       TRY             TO RUN AND HIDE.           AND
                                        FAITHFULLY  FOLLOW
                                           NEVER LEAVING
                                            MY SIDE. BUT
                                            IF CHILDREN
                                             WERE PUPS
                                              THEN THEY
                                              MIGHT EAT
                                             LIKE    HOGS
                                            CHEW    YOUR 
                                          GOOD        SHOE   
                                 MAYBE HIDE         YOUR CLOGS
 	    AND IF CHILDREN WERE PUPPIES, THEN WE’D ALL BE DOGS!

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
12.02.2012


Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Pisa not Pizza

                                                                             XXXXXXXXXXX
                                                                           ONE HUNDRED
                                                                          NINETY AND NI
                                                                         NE YEARS TIME
                                                               XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
                                                              IS WHAT IT TOOK TO BUILD
                                                             THIS TOWER IN AN ITALIAN
                                                           CITY BEHIND ITS CATHEDRAL
                                                          XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
                                                        THIS FREE STANDING TOWER
                                                       IN THE CITY OF PISA WAS FOR
                                                      THE CATHEDRALS LARGE BELL
                                                     XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
                                                    THUS BEING THE BELL TOWER
                                                   THE TOWER BEGAN LEANING
                                                  DURING THE CONTRUCTION 
                                                 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
                                                 LATER ONE SIDE OF THE BASE 
                                                WAS DISCOVERED TO BE TOO
                                               SOFT A FOUNDATION FOR IT
                                              XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
                                             SO GUESS THEY NEVER READ
                                           THE STORY ABOUT BUILDING
                                          ON SAND OR WAS IT THEIRS
                                         XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
                                        IT STARTED LEANING MORE
                                       AND MORE OVER DECADES
                                      THEN IT LOOKED  LIKE THIS 
                                    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
                                   THIS TOWER HAS BECOME
                                  VERY FAMOUS OVER THE
                                YEARS AND IS KNOWN AS
                               THE LEANING TOWER OF
                             PISA FOUND IN THE CITY
                            PISA IN TUSCANY ITALY

Brenda Meier-Hans 
09.16.2014



Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

I Am The World's First Selfie Poem

I am the world's first selfie poem,
Held aloft by the world's first selfie poem stick,
A look-at-me wordsmith pic,
Here I am fluttering beside Tower Bridge.

So here I pose on the left bank;
Here I'm by the Eiffel Tower,
Here I selfie seductively next to the shower.
Ignore the bidet -
Admire my framed parchment hanging above a plastic flower
pot.

Here I am analysed by a poet I barely know,
Here I repose at a jazz festival amid falling snow;
Fractal flake dew blushes my paper skin,
Ink suggestively oozing, blotting,
Have I been crying or exercising?

Here I am tender and damp,
Here I am sunbathing, drying beneath a lava lamp,
My words florescent and glowing,
Quite becoming, a little knowing.

Do my words look big in this?
Are my right words in the wrong order
a hit or a miss?
Am I a PUA verse,
Or a try-hard blow-hard piece of doggerel, cursed?

Here I'm a selfie poem looking for love,
Not a one-night-stand performance poem only read once,
Then abandoned, carelessly tossed away, orphaned on the street,
Clasped by a refuse collector with his selfie poem collecting stick,
Torn,
Unshared,
To be recycled, reincarnated, cared for, repaired..?

(for more of my humorous poetry go to: http://sukispangles.blogspot.com)



Copyright © Suki Spangles | Year Posted 2015

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Fear Of Numbers

          Fear of Numbers

Fear of numbers is real
They carry adding machines on their backs
And loaded numbered guns
Divide and subtract from families and everyone
With two times the pleasure two times the fun
Double their trouble on the run
You cannot escape the digits on your hands and toes
They are counting on you to pull them through
Children fear math and numbers like the plague
Run from them at multiple fractions of a second
Poof!...Like zero, (Is that a real name and number?), they are gone
Figures hide behind accountants glasses
Hitting you with tons of taxes
Not to be divisive or derisive
Or taken down in dividends
I think they’re out to get you
In the end they have no =
Something’s don’t add up
You can count on that


Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Image Poem | Share this poem | Create an image from this poem.

Beauty Within

    I can see
a beautiful soul
 lies within me.
    Therefore,
    no mirror
   can reflect
who I really am.







 
For Giorgio Veneto's contest - "Laconic Verse"



Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013