Out Of The Box Poems - Poems about Out Of The Box

That year the earth acted peculiar and parched the hatchlings screeched in the pulse of darkness mother bird had nothing much to offer not one insect, hopper nor crawler. Mother bird plotted then hatched a wicked plan to snatch a bag of worms from the tackle box man Mother stuffed plastic worms into featherless heads by the next day every last hatchling...

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You are a prisoner of your own mind, Chained within a cell, That binds your thoughts, And conceals your head. Fragile, hidden, perfectly eclipsed, Your mind lacks the fortitude, It needs to be left in. You speak without pride. Without light, without voice. Your words lack connotation, The way your mind lacks grace. In sorrow, in numb, You are all you did not want. So, you remain in...

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I fill my little treasure box With things that people say Each one a precious tender note To bring joy to my day And when life turns from friend to foe When days are long and drear I pull each little keepsake out To fill my heart with cheer The words you say, the words you write Leave echoes in my heart The sweet...

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The Black Box They came to the house for the wrong reason. In the end… They didn’t care, any address would do, as long as the reports were made, and the numbers taken down before the beginning of the next shift. They came, and they tested and then they required adherence to the law. What law? The one law...

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You put me in a box— 'Cause that’s what makes you comfortable. You put me in a box— 'Cause that’s what makes you strong. You put me in a box And tell me That’s where I belong. You put me in a box To keep me Contained. Controlled. You put me in a box To strip away my soul. You put me in a box And seal it up...

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Whatever happened to the telephone book enquiring minds need to know there hasn't been one here for years so wherever did it go and what about the telephone box or the answer machine I haven't seen either near it's clear they're few and far between they went the way of the dodo long before their time as not everyone owns a mobile phone and no you...

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What shines is a diamond in the rough, not a robot in a black box. Contest: Why I Abhor AI Generated Poems Contest Judged: June 15th, 2025 10:12:00 AM Sponsor: JCB Brul Placement: Second...

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Whatever happened to the telephone book enquiring minds need to know there hasn't been one here for years so wherever did it go and what about the telephone box or the answer machine I haven't seen either near it's clear they're few and far between they went the way of the dodo long before their time as not everyone owns a mobile phone and no you...

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I found myself in a store, you see. A sign on a box said, "Buy This for Free!" I thought it so strange, I must confess, when I saw the label: "EMPTINESS". Never was I one to turn down a deal, so, I took it home - my goodness what a steal. I opened it up and found...nothing there? In disbelief,...

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I have to constantly outguess, outrun and outfox Because I am their mother said my crunchy cereal box This mystified me; I was blank, wordless at best I read her advertisements again, thinking this was a test....

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Yellow, happy dreams gone up in argon Dancing dreams in laced clouds rained down to earth White lights which give darkness a come-on Youth's dreams, high-minded dreams what were they worth Sometimes sleep comes upon an aging body Resting in afternoon's sun-filled room Wrinkles exposed don't match the clothes shoddy Just for a rose-colored visit he said then vroom If only he...

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Dreams in various colours emerge from the night, They escape the gloomy room, Hoping to find expression in the light, Desiring to awaken and bloom. Dreams trapped in a box don’t tell a story, They don’t sing a song, They can never reach the heights of glory; In...

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My crayon box is filled with dreams’ color Of joyfulness tints and happiness’ hues Brightened by thanksgiving and praises ardor Midst gold of gladness, devoid of sad blues. Oh, there is green, full of life… healthy well From God’s grace, so glowing, no one can hide Along red with pink for compassion-swell With shining yellow of worshipful tide. Yes, courageous orange rules over...

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Once, colours bloomed beneath my fingertips, A world alive in every waxy line. With careless joy, I painted paper ships And skies where suns and silver moons would shine. Each shade, a song of summers never gray, Of laughter loud, of barefoot, grassy trails. But now those hues have slowly slipped away, Replaced by ticking clocks and grown-up tales. The red of courage...

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When I'm dreaming, I sometimes fantasize about opening a box of crayons. As my subconscious scribbles sapphire skies, coloring dreams in shades of gold and bronze. Pastels and vivid pigments color thoughts, using imagination as a brush. And shades float like a flotilla of dots inked in the brightest hues and faintest blush. My inner child scribbles between the lines, drawing pictures no one...

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