Short Alas Poems
Short Alas Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Alas by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Alas by length and keyword.
I wrote my obit today.
And why not?
Everything's the same.
In the past ten years.
Nothing has changed.
Alas, no one gives a damn.
Anyway.
The Queen gave birth to a daughter
A Queen who had lived without falter
The King desired a son
This was known to everyone
As the Queen was led to the slaughter
Here I Come
In cloudy weather
Nearby park bench.
Do not sit
Because you
Nothing
My heart is clear
Come
Perhaps
Next year
But
Today...
Your are not
Years waiting
Same time
On this day
Alas
Alas the day,
alas the night when the voices cease,
and the words run from the page,
when men, women, boys and girls are deprived through oppression, repression,
racism and hate,
and Ill education of an age.
Precious treasures achieved
throughout my life-long journey
are preserved in my heart.
Alas ! My heart !
I will have to leave all,
at end of my path.
Fishy and Medusa like
moves subtle in piscean flight
Slower than darting eyes
small mammals increase your size
Shady (steak out) waiting
cold smooth incalculable expectant satiating
For Carolyn Devonshire's attack contest!!
I lost a friend the other day
No, not to death, just in that way
so very few friends stay
forever.
Perhaps I felt a bit neglected
felt my feelings could be more respected
perhaps I might have just expected
far too much.
in the shadows
my spirit
yearns to be free,
to fly away
at a moment's notice
ne'er to be owned
by anyone
or anything
to perch upon the
highest tree
atop the highest
mountain
away and beyond
free alas
like the winter bird
often longing to be heard
I await the sounds
~
I await the sounds
of the deep swallows calling
robins and duck fly
~
on their way southward
winter winds comes it's now cold
now flow where it's warm
12/29/19
written by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2019
So you choose to die,
i wonder why,
i want to see,
who has taken to me,
i want to know, who bleed the sea,
of what lies under,
it may only be,
is she the summer,
is she the trees,
is she the darkness that weary me,
i want to die,
soon you 'll see
I want to die
was meant to be.,
Alas, Dorcas Reilly has died, God rest her soul!
Little known was she who served a great role!
Those who knew of her were few,
But you'd mourn her if you knew,
'Twas she who launched the green bean casserole!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
They maneuver more slowly now
a hum of wings and shuffling feet
trailing the mist of fading warmth
staying closer to home and hive
supping on summer’s last morsels
collecting the nectar of dreams
to nurture the promise of hope
©9/6/2019
FAREWELL, SUMMER poetry Contest
Nette Onclaud - sponsor
He
was good
to you when
d e s p e r a t i o n
held your hungry hand,
...when the sky fell in on...
your grieving head, he married
you, gave you all he had ,yet like
a female praying mantis without
regard for my brother, you consumed him!
8-18-16
Contest, Praying Mantis for Anthony Slausen
I sit and watch at the end of the day
Hummingbird moths in their silent ballet
On fiery blossoms, they flit to and fro
Among lantana in the evening glow
Reminding me of how I long to be
A kindred spirit, fearless and free
But alas, I lack the grace and the wings
The courage and wisdom and all the other things.
Alas~ If I Could Pen
Oh, my muse please do!
Send romance this very day.
Fill my droll quill do!
Lest I fall away,
In intellectual smog.
Crass,weepy dismay!
Double Engish Haikus 5,7,5
December 14, 2019
Alas, old blog, thou dost baffle me
Art thou a banjo short a cord
An off-key piano, tortured
A homeless cat meowing in the dark
A shaken not stirred literary libation
Advertising the talents of its writers
Redundantly raucous rhetoric
Echoing down a dusty corridor
Gathering the featherless dreams
Of forlorn and wingless words
Salubrious antipasto
Trimmed to be vociferous
Left without the tympani
Holding up a symphony
Greased well guaranteed articulate
Inundated synchrony
Molded into ebony
Gone on before the starting gate
Innate
Careening toward a screening
Where is all this the leading?
A gracious over-seeding
All sliding towards a feeding
In generosity I ate
I walked the golden mile
Where I sought to be
Without a notion who marred
Familiarity drew endlessly further away
So incomplete I eventually became
So unquestionably I commenced
Yet vacant I ended
Without even a doubt
I determinedly stood apart
My heart bleeds
Vile words enter
Mediocrity somewhat dreamlike
My world
Falls apart:
Anarchy
alas the ass to ride the dollar and the mule to the bank
I am not amuse the ruse of poetry soup and lack of lentils
as most of you do not know it is a legume to ponder the read
of a dictionary but the bard of avon not going to plant a garden
the sun is bright but you are dim not knowing the share of sum
the perfect buffet with green tea and if lucky perfume with jasmine
Justice not served is like an oasis with no water
Hope with no faith is like an atom with no matter
Life without love is like a bird with no wings
Silence without serenity is like a park with no swings
Happiness without laughter is like a plant with no root
Freedom with no democracy is like a leg with no foot
Ambition with no dream is like a drug induced high
And alas life with no spirit is like a land ith no heart
Form:
"Seashells travel they sell pushed by the wind and breeze desolation faith command pulled a travel by The Wave clear quietly as the mist droplets of rain forging down stormy now the shore swiftly fights the ship now the clear seashell that's courage it views love desires to endure and not fall endure the stormy comes with love is a clear seashell"
3/10/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
old words tremble on callow lips
pinched off like poison from a rose
and dripped upon the breeze ...
your breath mixed with morning's
stirred with my own, like honeyed chai
yet spiced with argument ... rehashed
Written and submitted on May 27, 2020
For the "Hexastitch It" Poetry Contest
Nette Onclaud, Sponsor.
( Syllables = 8, 8, 6, 6, 8, 8, counted at HowManySyllables.com )
Alas poor April you have shared your showers
Providing for May her gentle bowers
Awakened the dreaded Dandelion
Set their generation’s flyin’
Yet still you chill the evening’s mist
Warmth and cool in midnight tryst
Scent the air with daybreak’s dew
As travelers friendships renew
So sit, be still, know all is well
As April bids its cool farewell
Of diamond dew on Spider’s web
As final touch of season’s ebb
John G. Lawless
©4/28/2023
When them hate
Don't work
They start
Creating scene
Seeking others attention
Either for applause
Or to ruin another person reputation.
Acting selfishly
Creating scenarios
We the villains
Them the victor
Telling what's not true
Disunity them agendas.
Their messages
Disunited many
Setting the city ablaze
Many were scapegoat
Leaving them traumatized
Hurting another unknowingly
Without empathy or sympathy
Alas, None a born sinner.
Tho' not with a dagger in the library
nor candlestick in the conservatory
someone done the dirty deed
and yet of bodies none were found
perhaps the evidence had been concealed
interred deep down underground
so no one's doing time
it was eventually revealed
for the heinous crime
of thuggery and skullduggery
terrible as it may be
where the skeletons are buried
only the gravedigger knows
and after all allegedly it was purportedly
merely a murder of crows