Best Pocket Poems
I have a butterfly in my pocket,
that will never fly again.
When I think back to yesterday,
it’s a pretty reminder of my pain.
Butterflies aren’t meant for pockets,
you my dear were not meant for me.
I have my pretty reminder,
that without me you are free.
We kissed in the sunlight,
a butterfly landed on your toes.
It elicited smiles and laughter,
I loved how you crinkled your nose.
Bright skies filled with clouds,
in just a matter of days.
A butterfly stays just a season,
how I miss your delicate ways.
You left me without warning,
I saw our butterfly on the ground.
Like you no words were spoken,
my heart made a breaking sound.
So I put our butterfly in my pocket,
imagined you flying again.
I’m left to ponder my sorrow,
with a pretty reminder of my pain.
Categories:
pocket, angst, farewell, leaving,
Form:
Quatrain
From sweet bowed lips
to soft chubby hands
sticky with chocolate candy
Squeezed in lovingly
until pockets are bulging
kisses reserved for Granny
My first Members Contest Entry....for Short and Sweet.
Categories:
pocket, family, children, love,
Form:
Rhyme
A political pundit with power
stuffed dollars in his purse by the hour.
When called to court,
he said “Why not, sport?”
My daughter’s in real need of a dower.
And, while running a nasty ad game
He cried out “Why I’m not to blame!”
He did it too,
So *crew to you!
And he rose up on a tide of acclaim?
Categories:
pocket, funny, political
Form:
Limerick
I have crystals in my pocket and sage on the shelf,
I’m always digging deeper to find my better self,
I’m distracted by flowers and herbs I pass by,
I’m caught up in the beauty of all that’s alive,
I track the moon’s phases and bathe in its light,
I dance in the darkness embraced by the night,
I dig in the soil and plant things that grow,
I knead wheat with water to make bread dough,
I poke cloth with needles and leave thread behind,
I’m seeking new knowledge to sharpen my mind,
I’m exploring new phases and stages of me,
I’m opening my chakras so that I may see,
I’m on a never ending journey to find myself,
I wrote this poem to show me this in and of itself.
Categories:
pocket, change, garden, self, spiritual,
Form:
Rhyme
Frozen memories
Lost in time
Tattered corners
Forever mine
And in my pocket you may lay
Until I need you again someday
Categories:
pocket, lost love, memory, miss
Form:
Rhyme
Loose Pocket Change
A whistle blew
And out went candlelight
It’s wax ,cascaded and crystallized
It’s tears, warm and heavy, emptied into the deep
A bouquet of wilted flowers
Before the grave
Dark shadows of death
Stalk and circle those in blackouts
Black birds crow and fill the mind and burry the spirit
Sunken fishing boats
Bare hooks
Empty nets
Loose pocket change
In a pit of a bag
Stolen instruments
Black water under the bridge
Dirt and grime consumes it
Garbage and human remains float
Garlic peeling at the harbor
Women’s work
Men burn firewood for charcoal
Children get home schooling
Come feeding time, children fight
Typhoon blew stick houses down
Rice and grain swept away
Momma pawns everything
To open up her shop
Placing a bet on her life
A promise to feed her husband and lad
In the ruins of the slums
Hunger bury those who go without
Marckincia Jean
Free verse
09/17/19
Categories:
pocket, boat, death, deep, depression,
Form:
Free verse
He put a star in his pocket
and winked at the moon
As the sparkling stream sang him
a soft, tender tune
Of romance in airy regions
way up past Neptune
He felt the star pulsate
~ Magic kisses he'd strewn
Categories:
pocket, kiss, magic, star,
Form:
Romanticism
I have an angel in my pocket
God put her there for me
You may not believe it
She's not an angel you can see
But when I am feeling sad
And my way seems hard to find
I take time out and say a prayer
And talk to this angel of mine
I will always keep her in my pocket
Close here near my heart
Knowing she will help me
And that we will never part
Categories:
pocket, devotion, faith, angel, angel,
Form:
Rhyme
My old friend, my "Uncle Henry" knife, has been with me most of my days. No matter what, through thick and thin, I have had him in my pocket for sixty-four years. I received my first knife the same day I received my first wallet. I lost the wallet the same day I received it. It was a sad ending for a nice birthday, October 5, 1948.
elated
the young man soars --
milestone
Yes, just as one of those rides turned upside down my wallet fell, inside was change from a ten dollar bill. A bitter lesson, but one well learned. The gift from my dad --money I had saved. I also lost my newly gained stature ...the grown-up I now thought I was. Reaching into my front pocket I gained reassurance that at least the knife was still there. It was, and since then, I have had one with me everywhere except where they are not allowed.
my knife
with me always --
security blanket
Oh it’s only used for minor things, like picking out a splinter or briar. I also use it opening letters. You know- -things like that. But strange as it sounds, when I don’t have it on me I no longer feel whole, like something is missing. I have developed a strange attachment to it. More than an attachment it is a feeling of kinship. I have had many in my lifetime. Some I lost the day they came out of the box. But, no matter how many, each one is still my one and only knife, my Uncle Henry. And for some reason, I feel, I have never had but one-- the one I have now.
note: This is modern haiku. It is very subjective to my feelings now of the emotions I had then. It may be factual or not but represents my remembrance of the event and the value I now place on it.
Categories:
pocket, life, day, me, lost,
Form:
Verse
Tracking time has changed throughout the years
Improving how hours, minutes, seconds appear
Sundials, hourglasses, pendulums and more
Wall, wrist, mantle, waterproof - clocks galore
There is a certain beauty to time hanging from a chain
A charm of steady ticking from a wound-up spring
Some families hand down diamonds, silver, or lockets
Heirlooms that include timepieces in pockets
Traditionally these events are solemn occasions
Like weddings, high school or college graduations
Grandfathers will take sons or grandsons aside
To privately bequeath his pocket watch with pride
He will slowly raise the timepiece to his ear
Pausing to listen to the ticking gears
Dangling the chain he clicks cover to open
Reverently holding the beloved token
Peering into the crystal face with serious affects
Both mentally count the second hand’s ticks
With slight nod of head grandfather might relay
Special words of wisdom in his own way
I remember with fondness my own ceremony
Granddad’s advice more valuable than money
“The thing about time that will help you
Is be where you are whatever you do”
Thanking my Granddad we shook hands
In hindsight I know I did not fully understand
Years swiftly passed with many tick tocks
Today I give my Grandson Granddad’s pocket watch
Written 1-17-2016
Favorite Contest
By Casares Nance
Third Place
Categories:
pocket, culture, family, father son,
Form:
Rhyme
8 ball
pot black
decides the win
or lose
blue chalk the cue
kiss the dusty finger tips
the lips smile back at you,
read, wet, glistening -
ivories like dice,
behind them
words peppered
from the tongue
thrown black,
blue stardust outside
the straight lines
for a little while,
sparkling
like a photograph
8 ball
pot black
decides the win
carries 7
losers win
she grins
and says
corner pocket;
you lean in
Candide Diderot. ‘24
warm sound.
0-7
Categories:
pocket, blue, red, word play,
Form:
Free verse
In a couple of hours
another town we'll be stoppin.
At a big ole country bar
where we can get the people rockin.
At least until two
I know that place will be hoppin.
So I've got tequila in my boot, an a lime in my pocket.
Once those country boys
start drinking shots, their ain't no stoppin.
An those nice ole country girls
get out an dance, we'll be hoppin.
I know at least until two
That this big ole bar will be rocking.
So I've got tequila in my boot, an a lime in my pocket.
It's been a couple of hours
an no one wants the music stoppin.
At this big ole country bar
everybody wants to keep a rockin.
But it's almost now two
an everybody is still a hoppin.
Going to have to get more tequila for my boot, an another lime for my pocket.
Soon the bar will be closin
cause after this song we'll be stoppin.
We had ourselves a good time
as we kept the people rockin.
With all the tequila that I drank
I don't know if I, can continue hoppin.
I guess that's what is due, when ya putting tequila your boot, an a lime in your pocket.
Danny Boy:9-27-13 ©
Contest Name: Another Song Lyric Contest
By Anne Currin
Categories:
pocket, dance, drink, song,
Form:
Lyric
There is something in my pocket…
Is it perhaps a rocket?
Oh no, that simply would not fit;
Yet, there’s something in my pocket…
Could it be a lovely locket?
Good guess, I confess that’s not it…
Could you plug it in a socket?
Oh now that sure would be shocking.
Okay I give, do tell, won’t you?
Well…There’s a poem in my pocket,
And I’ve written it just for you.
Categories:
pocket, fun, games, giggle, happy,
Form:
Rhyme
The doors opened wide,
A Cowboy tired an’ worn.
Tears in his hide,
Even his chaps were torn.
Walkin’ towards’im, the old Padre heard,
He’as mumblin’ a story wild.
Sixty moons back he’d lost the herd,
How he liked ‘ole Curly cooked mild.
Twelve moons back God gave’em gold,
Some nuggets, a little dust.
Faintly the Cowboy told,
“Only Him can a feller trust.”
He reached threw his chaps,
Slowly their hands embrace.
Exhausted he nearly collapse,
Hearin’ the dust leave it’s trace.
All to Him I’d give,
The first house of His I see.
Reacon He let me live,
A Padres’ Cross set’em free
He opened up his hand.
As the Cowboy staggered away.
Rocks an’ siftin’ sand,
Helped the Cowboy pray.
By: JW “Ish” Fellers ~ TexasCowboyIsh
September 21, 2009 ~ Monday
Categories:
pocket, cowboy-western
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
Technological age.
Advancement of advancement,
Digital acceleration unlimited.
Gifted and pocketed,
This watch,
Dull dark silver,
True and tested mechanic,
Short and sturdy chain,
Analogue accuracy.
It fits comfortably in my jeans pocket,
Ages alongside my creasing lines with wear marks,
Time isn't well kept with its adolescent sporadic tock,
Certain to be set to be kept at a minute ahead,
I am directed to watch this future unfold,
While it clings to my pocket lining and present time,
And the engravings pull me back to the past,
You told me not to let this time pass me by,
As you held me tight before you passed me by,
And I never kept very good time like this
Fresh watch that sticks close to my side,
I cannot say that you were lost,
For the path you had set was more set than stone,
No improper implication should be allowed,
The wallowing whispers that beg me every which way,
They told me to go away from the very place
That I had interest to stay and investigate,
The stars sway with no stationary complaint,
Our night sky that's not so city bright,
Contains a dim white plate in-between its phase,
Much like my pocket of space it hangs,
A witless glow behind the cloudy night.
I am no more than I was except for a simple realization,
To look back and find I am not the same as I was,
Commonly known as growing up and moving on,
But I know I'll be happy in just a few short years,
Just glad I am not the same as I am now.
Categories:
pocket, loss, love, time, me,
Form:
Free verse