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Best Cut Corners Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Cut Corners poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of cut corners poems written by PoetrySoup members

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The Best Cut Corners Poems

Details | Cut Corners Poem |

All this time I thought that if I continued to pour my love into you, you'd eventually love me just as much.
I thought that my love could save you.
That my love could mend your brokenness.
I gave and I gave and you continued to take.
Draining me slowly, but you were mine so I kept asking God to renew my strength.
I continued to love you, but you started to take more of me more often.
So often, that I couldn't replenish myself fast enough.
When you were hurt, I dove in to touch all the spots that needed healing.
When you were broken, I found the glue to put your pieces back together. When you were sour, I took my nectar and poured it over you to make you sweeter.
When you were mean, I took that in and made you kind.
If you were low on energy, I pushed my energy on you to fill you back up so that you could conquer the world.
But you needed more, and you needed it faster.
I began to cut corners and found other ways to patch myself up so that I could sustain the love that we both needed.
I put you on my back, even though it was too much weight for me to bare. When my back gave out, I put you on my shoulders.
I'm sinking. I'm sinking slowly, but yet I'm still trying to find a way to push you up.
I feel my breath slowly being taken away, but if I can just save you I know you're stronger, so you can pull me up.
But as the hurt, the pain, the lies began to take my last breaths, I reached for your hands and you let mine go.
I'm sinking, and I see you watching me.
I'm reaching for you, but you don't lift a hand.
Everything that I took on was too much for you to bare.
The only way you could survive was by stepping off my shoulders and letting me go.
I wanted to fight but you had taken every bit of fight I had in me.
I had nothing left, so I gave In a began to let go.
I felt a peace arise and I thought this was it.
But then I felt this calmness and He said not yet.
He pulled me up and began replenishing my air.
He saved me bit by bit.
I'm starting to breath on my own again but I can still see your face watching me drown.
It hurts like hell. But I'm breathing.
Inhale deep.
Exhale slowly.
I'm breathing...

Details | Cut Corners Poem |

Sestina of milk, nails, and copper

drink your 5 year old milk,
boy!  I know where you live, stop painting your nails
like a girl, boy!  Aging copper
tones cut corners in my ink-
stained eyes from the lies you told, melted from the heat
surrounding this empty day.  From the dust

the day arises, filling in the gap between the other dust
which is now floating in your milk.
Oh horrid image of powder-milk—in the heat,
No less!  An image I would have nailed
To the back of the ink-
Tarnished vapors in your head, loner. It all goes copper

Under the sun’s furious copper—
Melting rays.  Ashes to dust
To my pen, once full of ink,
Now wasted.  No use cryin, spilled milk
Is the least of your trials.  Nail
It to your face and watch it ferment in sun’s heat.

Heat that will kill you.  Heat
That will burn you up and melting copper
That I didn’t want anway—like copper nails—
Only in existence to Bind me Rusty or turn me to green dust,
Worthless anyway.  Then I wouldn’t have to drink your damn milk
I’d get my own nutrients instead—I’d drink the ink

From my pen.  My soul comes out inky,
Spills dark revelations on a page that burns in the heat
Of my gaze, always staring.  Then dowsed in milk
To cover the burning sensation of my copper 
Nose.  Amethyst, the shiny purple—also to dust
It turns.  We build jeweled crutches out of nails,

Crutches we use to walk on, or trip over the deadly spikes of bedded nails
Jutting forth its powerful poisonous ink
Staining all that was once good, makes it dusty
And kills me, burns at the stake, the heat,
Too much to bear.  Dangling my copper
Jewelry singes my white milky

Skin.  Using my nails I scratch me for never drinking enough milk.
Melted ink pours over rich copper
Which turns to dust…I’m done with this last sip of milk.

Details | Cut Corners Poem |

Poems About My Poems

Poems About My Poems

Should read my poems and discover design;
You immediately will know they are mine;
Cut corners and curbs;
Only used few verbs;
Not only that they are always mighty fine.

Limericks which I wrote can never be beat;
When read are always will be quite a treat;
History in making;
So breath taking;
Where bright minds come together and meet.

Each one of my poems do seem so splendid,
And when read wish they had never ended;
Should avidly read,
To meet each need;
Into space and time they became suspended.

How I do want you to feel was well-assured;
As well as enjoyed my poems word for word;
Had found a few,
Pleasing to you,
And author is me to you had it ever occurred.

My each poem can be found in native land,
And you may measure them when spanned;
Second to read needed,
So they all stampeded;
Rose saw Trump and tiny was his each hand.

James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Bolivia, NC

Details | Cut Corners Poem |

Born Again

 

I made my home on the soft sands of the riverbed,
It seemed so right but I wasn’t thinking ahead.

Of the dangers that waited I could not see,
Who would have thought a little rain would be the downfall of me?

The first few days were truly wonderful, really quite grand,
Till the flood came one night then I realized quickly the old saying of never set your
foundation in sand.

Take it to bedrock no matter the cost,
For without a strong foundation all will someday be lost!

Never cut corners when your life you’re just starting to build,
And follow Gods word if you truly want to be filled.

For without His anointing you’re building on sand,
And you’ll truly never find life’s happiness till you take hold of His hand.

We are all His children and we should follow Him like sheep,
For He is the Sheppard and in His book our names He does keep.

Sometimes we all get to thinking we don’t need help in the things that we do,
And I had that thought myself till I realized He will help you over every hurdle if you’ll
only ask Him to!

Maybe this should be the moral of this story,
Without morals you’ll not receive His Glory.

He tells us to turn from our ways of sin,
Receive His cleansing blood be reborn, be Born Again!

Details | Cut Corners Poem |

10K or bust

we gather together, a hundred or so
stetching, warming cold muscles, just waiting to go

nervous anticipation, just wanting to start,
we collect our numbers, have a piss, have a fart

as our tummies stir with butterflies and angst
we stand at the starting line a group, a phalanx

a marshall says ready, then silence, we know
that what is  coming next is a timed, shouted "GO"

Then en masse, as a block we all start to run 
A mass of humanity, that moved at the gun

it starts as a lurch, and bumped elbows and arms
theres no place for courtesy, gentlemanly charms

as the race now begins all focussed, eyes front
all searching for space, a chance, a gap,  that's the hunt 

it all settles down by five hundred metres
the field becomes spread - plodders, speedsters...  and cheaters

oh indeed, there are those that break all the rules
that cut corners, take drugs, but they take us for fools

we know who they are , they stand out by a mile 
they have previous you see, they are all down on file

the rest of us plod on,  except those with speed
they zoom off ahead, running far into the lead 

and now its a mile and the legs now feel good
the early stiffness is gone, they don't feel like wood 

feet schlepping softly, breathing steady and strong
we're well in our groove, legs easy, striding so long

the field has thinned out now, runners spread afar
from leaders to last man, some in costumes bizarre

all doing their damndest, to complete in style,
to push through the aches and pains, right through the last mile 

in the last mile it tells, when not all's quite right
when breathing is ragged, the end still not in sight

the quads are now burning, both feet feel so hot
sweat runs into our eyes, and our gait is all shot

the last hundred metres seems like a trial
the finish line grows distant, seems like a mile 

crowds clapping and cheering, all willing us on 
we're all in it together until the day's done

finally the line comes, it arrives  in a  rush 
across it we stagger, everything hurting so much 

we've done it, we've finished, completed at last
we did what we could though by no means at all  fast

we few, we happy few, we band of brothers
we drink water, eat cake, make small talk with others 

and now its all over, its back home for rest
to shower, to relax - then to plan for the next.

(c) ian diddams 2018

Best Cut Corners Poems | Poetry

The Best Cut Corners Poems

The Straight Road

The candle of my life

Hunger Spot

Life is a Race

he who loves you

REGRETTING CAKE

Forever Last

Ode to Just Another Writer

Taking the far way

I'm Breathing

Sestina of milk, nails, and copper

Poems About My Poems

Born Again

10K or bust