Row Poems - Poems about Row

As morose as it may sound I know I’m really just another Death row man. No, I’m not locked away For a crime I have done. I’m free, But that doesn’t mean I’m still not on that row. And that also doesn’t mean There isn’t some crime I could have done That would have me lock away and unfree. I’m sure there are stacks of...

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I took a long drive down to Harbinger Row Where the grass is all dead and the flowers won't grow Where the people and their pets are now long gone And an icy cold wind whispers till the dawn On certain nights you can hear the spirits cry Under a pale-blue moon or a blood-red sky They suffer and anguish...

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Although it’s a hard row to hoe a rough furrow to harrow and a tough trench to plough there’s many a meadow to mow I hereby avow and tho' it may be news to you farmers have the need to sow their seeds where milkmaids milk the cows swineherds feed their sows and shepherds have their pie and eat it too in Slough now ...

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he didn’t blink when the light caught his face— just stared like a dog too long in the rain. no prayers, no cries, no family on the concrete bench. he killed for sport, like swatting flies— and still the world made room for him. the guards were tired, the chaplain bored. death smelled like disinfectant and steel. he coughed once. then again. then silence. nobody wept— not even the devil. ...

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Row by row the nettles grow And circles do surround Hairy stems the prison wires And jagged leaves their barbs. Cry out, forsaken sinner Your voice shall not be heard We listen to the wind song And hark its piercing sound. Your poison nettle vapours Cling to my moistened lungs And acrid nettle juices Drip from my swollen mouth. Alone, now in death— Eden’s angel looms Sword...

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they said justice but meant just us and here I sit— a roach in a cage of light, the hum of the air thick with bleach and lies. my skin was the evidence. my eyes—guilty. no rich man ever came this far south to die in a room this cold. I write with broken pencils and dream of rain, the kind that doesn't stop. ...

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If I owned a circus for you I'd play the clown (Do jugglers ever tire of throwing up? Only when they're sick of it.) or if I had a rickshaw I could run you round the town if I were landlord of a bar drinks would be on me as proprietor of a restaurant you would dine for free and if I had a row...

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birds often have a spare-row flying somewhere in the flock extra eyes and ears benefit survival with respect numbers in this or that tree grove with residential birdfeeders ten birdfeeders running actively almost all of the year great for photography and perfect when reading/writing poetry and philosophy mathematics and counting time len ...

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...'wowza' again... a spare row of creatures take... their last step every minute of... time any where and become food... yesterday i saw a hawk take a... sparrow feeding in the front hedge... just a half hour ago another got nailed... while i watched so the mystery is gone... sparrows will land on your shoulder because... hawks avoid us and so we're predatory protection.... len ...

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A double murderer Shot before a firing squad Justice or revenge? An eye for an eye So, the old law book conveys Punishment for sin Society’s way To rid town square of wrongs Yet, death row awaits The hangman stands by The masses don’t know his name Pulls the trap door latch The cycle repeats With no real decrease in crime No one ever wins Justice will make...

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I think my muse hates exercise; she flees whenever I row. A three day streak on the water: the verse refuses to flow. I’m not quite sure what the deal is, why it’s either this or that. Perhaps she carries a little weight and thus prefers me fat?...

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In a crowded room filled with high society, and In the facade of decadence, plays the Back Street Symphony Winos falling asleep covered in yesterdays news A lone saxaphone player, playing the blues Neon signs and desinger lines are giving him his cues He says "I've paid my dues" I've got front row tickets to mainstreet Walkin' by, don't know who you'll...

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We went to the movies, just for a lark. It was so romantic, there in the dark. Now, if I told you I met her inside, You would think I was being mean no doubt. But the reason we couldn’t meet outside Was to make sure her husband didn’t find out. ...

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Has anyone seen a heart, looking for its owner? lost mine short while ago jilted in the third row before the finale notch seven, her tally Has anyone found a heart? Surely no one wants two knowing what hearts go through, unless one takes them apart, her main feature from the start -- Please, someone call the Maitre D with a flashlight for losers like me...

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romantic romance romancing romanced romanticist romanticism...

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