Mixing Poems - Poems about Mixing

Mixing Paints

I paint a smile on my face, mid-poem the smile
begins to crumble.
Who are these dark angels that cast such shadows
over my laughter.
The brush falls from my hand, now I sketch in charcoal -
teeth gritted.

Wishing to portray the sun rising over a pastured valley,
struggling for sunrise hues,
plucking eyebrows with frustration.

hands snatch up an artist's palette to

Mixing Metaphors

Mixing metaphors in the morning
Coffee craving stills the brain
Active principle lying passive
Roar of silence calls in vain
For no one leads when no one follows
Nothing lasting will remain
In the moment where all is timeless
Self and other just the same

(9/8/23)

Mixing In the Moonlight

Mixing in the Moonlight 

Dear darling, gaze ye at the blood red moon.
Ancient light that calls with its bright red tones.
Fret not, on the breeze there will be no tune.
For the loss is great, witness how she moans.

How can we lowly sinners, give her hope?
Her pain daunting, my love, that is so true.
The poor boy

Mixing Politics and Religion

My grandfather
seemed wise with years
walking his rural spiritual path
in a relentlessly white
Christian dualistic church
dividing sinful nature
from sacred spirit.

He counseled:
Do not mix
religion and politics.

I wonder
how he would feel
about this mix
of sacred and profane
if he were to meet
my out lesbian activist
senior UU minister.

Clearly
we have mixed up
our religious community
within our local political culture

When we called
this gendered clergy person
we

A Blender

A blender 
Can be used for mixing or crushing
Of many things 
Including the visible and the invisible
Happiness can survive alone
But happiness sometimes does blend
With sadness
While you're touring you see 
Startling poverty
While you're enjoying food 
With a lot of people yearning for it
At this moment
Feelings in your heart 
Seem to be mixed by a blender
Sadness always

Mixing Day

When you look forward with a sense of dread;
And yet there is no gun aimed at your head.
You try to find the joy, but there is none.
The concrete pour looms large; let's get her done.
At least there is a thought that does console:
Peach cobbler, homemade ice cream, in a bowl.

This Week

*** THIS WEEK ***

(“If my doctor told me I had six minutes left to live, I wouldn’t 
brood.  I’d type a little faster.”  Isaac Asimov)

The sliced portions of this week
Collapsed, an almost eloquent fall
Into a slow-motion slide 
Of morsels
Then, still unnoticed, on into
The soft blue crystals of
This week’s ending — being
Merely a measure

Mixing Time

Past future

                        continuously and forever
        

                   

The Mixing of Spirits

It's easy to think
of the mixing of spirits
as being something sexual...
because, in a way, it always is.

Mixing engenders 
the kinds of connections
that go deeper inside
than the usual interactions.

It's easy to think
that you know what's happening
when you're oblivious
to the sword of the truth.

When you don't understand 
all the nuances and subtleties
it's easy to think
you know what's

Color Lines

Thanks to all those brave souls,
the trail blazers
that has gone before us.
They who fell in love,
back when white society
wasn't so excepting or
was intolerant of mix marriage.
Love is made of tough stuff,
couples had it ruff.
So, for a while, some lovers even
kept a low profile.
This has been going on for a long while.
But they took a leap

Mixing Up Or Forgetting Your Name

How can a father forget their son’s names?
Josh/Bobby or Bobby/Josh who can remember
Laughter that came to my ears when they would laugh at me
Am I the only one who mixed up their children’s names?

Today is much easier then yesterday I forgot how to yell at them
WHO, left theirs toys on the floor Bobby/Josh?
WHO, ran through

Mixing the Gene Pool

Sex is to have fun, not to mix the gene pool
Let's be honest, the gene pool will mix itself with the right tool
But oh what fun
Till we're done
I vote to change the system, I'll be waiting in the vestibule

Mixing Flavors of Soup

Slow- fire gleams upon a nearby field
as I  gather herbs from  twig-like strips
adding  creamy broth to stir the brew
under a  moonlight of summer’s heat … 
The mellow breeze warms  my  thoughts
where hands pour lemon mint, in a campfire
kindling  essence of  words for poetry soup:
then to  

Mixing of the Bones

If we could peel back the blanket of earth
To expose the bones buried there

Mix them all up in a great big pile
To say they'd all look the same would be fair

The rich man, the poor, the blind and the weak
Each gender, religion and race

The short, the tall, the large and the small
And include every shape

Mixing Bowls

I have a set of mixing bowls 

handed down from my Grandmother. 

There are four bowls in the set 

that nest within each other. 

The bowls she gave into my care, 

have a long history to tell. 

I will try to share some of it with you 

I hope I tell it well. 

The smallest

• Short Mixing Poems
• Famous Mixing Poems
• Best Mixing Poems
• Read Mixing Poems
• Long Mixing Poems
• Mixing Quotes