Shelf Poems - Poems about Shelf

Blood falling Down Down Down Onto the little glass shard of my dads broken shot glass I don’t know why I do it. I never have real answer when people ask.. “To forget” “To punish” “To feel better..” Those are the most common answers.. But I had a reason that...

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“You’re welcome.” The words ring through my head. The words I knew were soon to come. My eyes fill with dread. I knew he would see through my lies. I knew that he would talk to my father. After countless cries, I seemed to not be bothered. Nothing can stop me. The sting makes me feel alive, It brings me back to reality. I’ll talk to...

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Dusty shelf still I look up to where they sit on a shelf high collecting dust once it seems so long ago I carried them everywhere with me and I did show them and I was so proud and in time I learned no one did care so there they sit dreams and ideals from when I was young so long ago still I love them and them I keep but now tucked away collecting...

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Doohickey thought she should wear the crown Gizmo huffed off in her greenish gown Dofunny Dingus laughed and got crazy sick Steam on the What-not-shelf was truly thick....

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Preservatives in food ensure a longer shelf life – and since those foods we eat are loaded with preservatives, shouldn’t we likewise enjoy a longer life?...

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Dusty Shelf Dedicated to my Sponsor In this world are many souls, Some chase peace and some chase gold. Some are hurting, some seem fine, Some break slowly over time. But we would never get like those, We frowned upon the life they chose. Of course we knew they needed help, Yet left them on a dusty shelf. We walked past them, ignored their cries, No...

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1950’s walnut what-knot-shelf small compartments with tiny doodads crystal doohickeys and miniature thimbles variety of teensy ceramic trinkets displayed in woman’s living room every mother I knew had one back in the day 1950’s go-to accessory for the modern woman...

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There once was a bear Who was loved for his shoes To a girl he was gifted Just her cuddly muse On a once rainy day With a shelter required The brolly was shaken To it's cover retired Then a browse through the store With her eyes shining bright The gloss of his footwear Caught a beam of the light A flash and a sparkle Was all...

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Today was the first day I held a sledgehammer with intention Callouses connect palms to fingers tiny fleshy boa constrictors. There is no catharsis I know this to be a hollow act With a face smithed of iron, a body lathed with linseed wood, and a head full of nothing. No I am not thinking, I am in fact refusing to do so. This...

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on Tuesday the candy canes danced off the shelf I almost got run over by a screaming running elf. Where is the head baker? He asked without apology. Watch where you are going! I yelped to that arrogant he. Then I saw something horrific for myself. Those striped candy canes had all danced off the shelf. They were doing the tango,...

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Roars of dark shadows covered through the dusty iron blocks, raining down in tunes on the souls of the districts. The spot of a thousand bleeds and blood stood man made animals, humans set to engage and hunt for their life that isn't theirs. Her cold hands felt fear. Submerged in a train of countless...

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Now, I suspect the economics teacher But he suspects me and The case goes on into the term As we gently move From one story to another But I've got all the other plays, so they look good Break time and lunch time Offer time for time to call witnesses Or suspects one by one They file in looking...

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A lot I could say about my bookshelf: In a way like my half-understood self. A first-time user should seek my half help Against a blind book search and its yelp! Supports the cruel weight of three thousand books: Fat ones except Camus’ that it brooks, Golding’s moderate-sized up to ten And Hemingway’s made to stand like brave men! Wood that clearly woos...

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It hurts to note one's congrat has been ignored. He later wakes up, who has long snored. Fresh call for fresh congrat fingers are bored; The pain from previous neglect had hit cord! My Apology: Admiring Reader. Don't quit your labour of being my feeder, I love you only less than my late mum, Last child still dealing with the toughest gum And...

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Sandlewood oils weirded the the room a curtain rubbed with the oils would be used during the concert to fill the room with the scents as the Bassoons of moring played with the Strings of Night. The Brass of evening glared as as the electric band grooved to make each sound bounce and move together. I heard one guy decribe the sound as six bassoons...

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