Short Ad Hoc Poems
Short Ad Hoc Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Ad Hoc by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Ad Hoc by length and keyword.
Leonard Nimoy (Mr Spock),
His music career quite ad hoc,
Sang of Bilbo in sixty eight,
With his fringe still Vulcan straight.
Listen to poem:
Custodian of Apostrophe's Apostle
Who done it, steed?
Who said what's read
between the lines marked
with ad hoc diacritic dashes?
There was a butcher from Elmsgate
Who drank every day to celebrate.
One tipsy day at the chopping block
He swung his cleaver ad hoc.
Now he knows just how to amputate.
a
bright whispering
stream
ad hoc
parallel
immense
abounding
now
mature
a sparkling
scene
once
abandoned
familiar
cloistered
summoned
now
to
speak
to
receive
immure
tremble
&
increase
this
flood
within
The plumbers name was stop cock jock
Whose eyes were firmly on the clock
Put his wrench in his belt
What a shock when he knelt
Cos the grippers caught in his ad hoc
With tears flowing like a river
He tried to stand and deliver
His bits changed to blue
Mates said what a to-do
Stop cock jock was all of a quiver
Penned January 3 2019
And so –
A Buddhist Monk Said:
Life's, indeed, valueless
Jot each day with a plus
I think, I save my soul
With my athletic goal
Why should any God block
My race as though ad hoc
I run like a cool stream
Should I have a fixed dream?
I am flux. I move on.
Each day is my own dawn.
My flame turns into storms
Don't I have, yet, my norms?
Some call it coffee and a walk.
For me? It’s silent seclusion.
The time I refuel with passion
relishing there’s no need to talk.
My mind drifts off to a deadlock
that action forced to illusion.
Some call it coffee and a walk,
For me? It’s silent seclusion.
A phone full of so much ad-hoc
it runs through me, a delusion.
Left inspired by such profusion,
I can only write with a gawk.
Some call it coffee and a walk.
Everytime you discover
a new black hole;
someone crosses the border
and starts crying.
Thread weaved in and out
of tapestry. You were nailed
to the wall, which never
had any doors.
Why were you not a mackintosh ?
You scripted strangely, talking
of an open world. You smell
a war between the poems-
in a book. There was no ad hoc
pain in groins. Your boney
nose went to find the peat moss
in the jungle of sandalwoods.
Satish Verma
A mob of crows conflate a raucous debates
with sweet songs.
They gather
on the broken branches of Autumn,
they fill the leafless spaces
that now are only naked windows
for a colorless sky.
An ad hoc hectoring
of dark and light notes shakes a cold wind -
a song sheet for the fallen and failing.
If you watch and listen
to that black-winged rabble
all will turn into the glossy iridescence
of ethereal harp music
played solo upon the few twigs left
within these stark woods.
Mom and dad you are the best
you are the key for any lock
i can bet and cop any test
i was wet or sad and broke
you got me rid of yet modest
eye see me far ear my knock
toy pen tie bat and all rest
my kid-ask was not ad-hoc
you buy me all may not afford
you are my god you are my lord
for any foe big dam and sword
i beg to god not big mart
it is an apt and bit smart
i opt to hid you in my heart
Date 04/13/2016
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