Pocket Poems - Poems about Pocket

Sky in my Pocket

S             K            Y

 in my pocket holds 
                        

Out of Pocket

Not even knowing they must correct,
Sadly their egos speak instead,
This is honestly what led me to leave,
They think they know everything,
Certainly not spoken out of love,
And certainly spoken out without knowing anything at all,
Pride stepping on love chills me to the bone,
Disgusting assumptions just for their own show,
I'm sorry, did you take the time to

Pocket Worlds

Taps light up the screen,
endless worlds in my pocket
swipe, and dreams take flight

pocket watch

Dad's old pocket watch...
aureate, fine, glistening...
his time on my hands

Pocket Lint

broke enough to not buy into false hope and dreams

Robin Redbreast’s Pocket

Blithe breaks at the illumination of muted yellow leaves,
so alive, nearly laughing like children; still life clinging.
Autumnal blouse of painted bark and pretty sleeves.
Silence of bluebirds and red robins - inward singing.

The rake’s barely broken earth, a few clingers at task.
Season’s copacetic with only a tinge or tingle of coolness.
Time’s fallen back as I read

A Pocket Full of Sunshine

Lucy Locket lived amidst Lakeland Hills, where jay serenaded morning;
Like plum rainbows celebrate sunshine, with never any silent warning.

Lucy was merely twenty years old, like a peach rose, dusted with dew;
And she was also a dutiful teacher, unveiling what children never knew.

Lucy liked to sew and to garden, like green nature, roving everywhere,
Recalling lavish, sunset

A Dime in His Pocket

   A dime in his pocket
     hope in his heart
   Just his clothes on his back
     but he’d make a new start

   Constricted at home
     he took to the road
   Foraged for food
  

In the pocket of the evening, language floats a cosmic virus

In the pocket of the evening, language floats – a cosmic virus,
Its seeds unknown, brought on the wings of silent comets.
It clings to people as the light of stars to the night-time tree crowns,
Whirling miniature orbits in a mute dance, under the vault that hosts wandering thoughts.
Man, his bits and pixels once scattered through the

SHE HAD A FIVER IN HER POCKET

she had a fiver in her pocket
but couldn’t flip it, like in days of old
then
without those satin liners
a hole seized what little she had
and
she leaned over to find a useless penny
engraved with Abe Lincoln’s head
cut off
from making anything at all
happen in this tough life
still
she read of someone who had
spun straw into gold
must
she give up her

In Memory of Pocket Knives

On those long days
when it was too hot to ride
or run, a boy would find
an island of cool beneath
a tree and sit there 
with his pocket knife
to whittle away time
and a piece of wood.
A good blade could shape 
the hull of a model boat
or thinly peel an apple
or carve a name clean
into the smooth bark

corner pocket

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

Grass In My Pocket

Don’t you remember? That one time
When we were young and adventurous 
We settled on shared breath between
Pine trees and our neighbors oak
Tugging on leaves like they were
All we could afford to clasp

My mom saw us
Hitting each other with sticks
In the chilled South Dakota summer
Like a pair of yokels
In on a joke no one understood
She looked

Pocket Knife

My grandfather made a gift of his pocket knife. It wasn’t in his will or anything, he just quietly took my hand, put the silver knife, shining after all these years, into my palm and folded his wrinkled, work worn hands around my twelve year old fingers. The handle was cool and smooth to the

Dreams In My Pocket

Ive found my dreams again
O glorious day
for I had tucked them in my pocket along the way
forgetting to keep them out in the sun
where they can smile to the world
finding the once forgotten voice 
as I now fly on the wings of grace
realizing the full potential of life 
that is in my hopes and dreams

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