Short Amateur Poems
Short Amateur Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Amateur by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Amateur by length and keyword.
As we near the end of our road trip
a blessing from an old amateur wordsmith:
No road is ever too long
if you have someone to share it with
The POTUS, "Napoleon Bonaspur",
has once again created quite a stir.
The Lincoln Reflecting Pool
looks just like a big cesspool
and that makes him look like an amateur.
Chicago's like a box of alcoholics
You always know what you're gonna git
gang bangers and amateur rappers
pick pockets and sidewalk crappers
trolls guzzling homebrew under a bridge
a corpulent pink frog hopped past chasing a fly
they were soon joined by a pink and yellow butterfly
Not now! Said Sir Chucky, an amateur magician.
I am trying to learn a trick shown to me by an electrician.
Jan doesn't write iambic pentameter
So please don't condescend and mock her
We have different styles
I bring laughter and smiles
Please remember Jan is just an amateur!
30th April 2015
Don’t feel sorry for the Ayatollah
Just ‘cos that old man has to fly solo
Yes, he’s got to make a buck
But he is not out of luck
They say he’s a fine amateur bowler
NOT MANY PEOPLE KNOW THAT
So little evidence remains
Of Vermeer's ups+downs+pains-
Happily,his art,his epitaph
reveals all,to the attentive viewer
amateur or connoisseur !
See my vermeer cartoons
@www.vermeersgirls.blogspot.com
Can you tell that I am down bad?
Is it so painfully obvious that I like you?
Sure, I text you everyday,
and I ask you enough questions to make the press seem amateur,
and yeah I keep trying to hang out,
but that's what friends do, right?
friends.
Just friends.
P oet, I'm afraid your words are too small.
O range is a word that won't rhyme at all.
E nd with a full stop, and a coma there.
T he verse you put down is practically bare.
R emember to spell check, find all your mistakes.
Y et this is not all writing poetry takes.
The exoplanet council's having a pow-wow
Where are those amateur astronomers now
We've lost track of their telescopes
Have all those earthlings given up hope
Optimistic that our lifeforms will soon be discovered
Guess we'll have to wait 'til folks down there recover
There once was an entrepreneur
An Irish born rank amateur
He made garden chairs
Outdoor tables I swear
His name was Paddy O'Furniture
Written 14th March 2017
Entry to "luck of the Irish limerick" contest
Notes: happy St Patrick's day to all my fellow Irish men and women
Amateur writers, they languish in bookshelves,
their mediocre musings dull, tawdry, and lacklustre,
garish fare inviting foot press dust bin or giant skip,
infused with cliché-ridden dumbstruck cant so trite,
I “CANT” grasp why such writers are that brazen,
“Amateur Writer” is not the word!
A progidy in her early teens
When this Flemish lass burst on the scene
A stylish breakfast piece
an epulaeryu in paint-
a gifted amateur she ain't
Tribute to the Clara Peeters 1594-1657
Specialist with breakfast pieces eg Table with pie,game & olives
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clara_Peeters
amateur inventors are responsible...
they brought about near everything...
education is now an industry and
the media is about stamping out minds
to fit a modern consumer world
where-in the only privacy left
is under an all out attack...
brought about by the greedy...
how much cash in your pocket?
Form:
In a perpetual state of curiosity,
I am the lover—the amator,
consumed by the pursuit,
never arriving as the station's master.
Reshaped by the objects of affection—
endlessly revealing itself
with fresh eyes.
To be possessed by a god.
I am the midwife of ideas,
so come sit with me
and be courted every day.
An amateur with art in her veins,
A portrait and palette to design dreams and pains.
Serendipitous ideas flood the gates,
An obsession mushrooms as fate curates.
Rekindling old fondness,
Crafting nuance with skillfulness.
From canvas to clinic, the journey unfolds,
Exploring dermal maps with a finesse untold.
For an amateur it's quite difficult
to eat a bowl of rice with a set of chop sticks
and nearly imposable to eat a bowl of rice
with only one chop stick.
I guess the difference between the possible and
the impossible depends on how hungry you are
to achieve a positive outcome rather than a negative.
Lets all eat!
thought for food
Listen to poem:
Curious to test the fallacious claim
that you could eviscerate calamari squid
in the vortex of a blender,
the amateur chef took the plunge
to bewilder and tantalize friends.
He added a whole squid to the bowl of a blender
and selected the lowest speed.
It looked good a first,
but then the mix blushed scarlet -
Calamari in the Mist.
Fancy feast
In my best china dish
How she loves to be finicky
Wearing nothing but
Her pretty pink rhinestone collar
As she tiptoes across the room
Slinky and sleek
With a regal air
Ignoring silly bipeds
Life is grand
Prancing around
She owns the place
Published in The Amateur Poets Magazine, Spring 2020
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Creating
If I create with a needle,
You are whispering in my ear,
“Punch here and close again,
Even and neatly, my dear.”
Without You I cannot bake a cake;
For all those You guided before,
Soil tilled, flour milled
Hands and hands galore.
And when I create something
Whether of beauty or amateur,
You created the joy it gives me,
Thank you, my God!
You I adore!
Spare me your bitter laughter
Lacking any sense
Spare me your useless banter
Just give me some space
Hiding your incompetence
behind a mask of humour
You're not a good person, darling
for us there's no future
Stop acting so arrogant, I hate it
but it actually makes me sad
Stop giving me that ugly laugh, I hate it
but your jokes aren't actually so bad
A long time ago, grandpa told me
amateur athletes crossed oceans and paid the fees
Every four years a noble spirit arose
emblazoned on a torch, fiery and free
A spirit clear, shining bright and true
the Olympic spirit, one that cut through
The claptrap of power, regulation and rules
crossing the finish line in brotherhood
Sometimes just a trim; others, a drastic clip;
around-the-world trip with one mighty snip.
Children and scissors together, tempt fate;
by the time you check, it's already too late.
Like closing hen-house doors after the chicks are out;
no need to whimper, get angry or shout.
She's taken the scissors, achieved a slam dunk;
whacked her dog-ears off, leaving two stubby chunks.
I'm real good at excuses,
And syntax abuses,
But my ultimate excuse,
I'm an amateur, what's the use?
What do I know from this stuff?
I ain't no diamond in the rough,
I just put down words that come to me,
From someone or place that I can't see
So blame them if it sucks,
Or makes you laugh with yucks,
The only poems that come from me,
Are those that create a sense of ecstacy.
Black, white
wrong, right
straight, gay
night, day
meek, freak
open, sneak
Would it be easier without labels?
Could we just say I am that I am
Who I am because I am...God's child!
Rich, poor
faithful, whore
corrupt, pure
professional, amateur
mom, dad
good, bad
strong, weak
homely, street
Could we learn just to be?
and not hurt anybody?