Short Antic Poems
Short Antic Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Antic by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Antic by length and keyword.
Goliath stood up straight and tall
But David knew that he would fall
Goliath was stoned
And everyone groaned
His shoelace tripped him after all!
CONTORTION CAUTION
Antic
Tantric
Frantic
Spastic
I warned you that antic tantric sex
Could turn you to frantic spastic wrecks
During Period of Pure Panic
During a period of pure panic,
My mind had become manic,
And realizing,
Demoralizing;
Each antic ended up gigantic.
Jim Horn
Depressive Which Was Manic
My kind of depression had been manic;
Already considered doing another antic;
Screeching halt,
And my fault;
Broke big button that they labelled panic.
Jim Horn
Soon we shall merge
Blue moon shall witness
Kisses that bloom like roses red
planting babies in womb
Romantic antic of my groom
11/8/2021
SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL 5 LINE RHYME CONTEST
SPONSOR CHARLES MESSINA
What We Would Do Is Panic
We saw Trump and his each antic;
Found ourselves becoming frantic;
When he wanted cash;
Had developed a rash;
What he would do was so satanic.
PS.
Hated all those who are Hispanic.
Jim Horn
In caves prehistoric
Static from minds ecstatic
Lively from minds elastic
Passion from minds romantic
Impression from minds pedantic
Bizarre from minds frantic
From Cro-Magnon to Warhol’s antics
Art pleas images and not semantics.
You ask for too much, tho
your categories make me so
frantic.
Teachers are like that, right?
('cept for the few, of course,)
who know how to deal with recourse
that has something to do with antic.
Could go on and on
but wouldn't want anyone to
panic.
as I whistle
and so on
And so on
And So On
.......
and the beat goes on
ANAGRAMMATIC Poetry Form
An anagram mantra
Gramma acting manic
Mama in a catamaran, cramming in a cigar
A martian mating in mint gin
A cat antic, grit at a rat act
Magma in a tin, anti-gamma rant
A tram cart ramming a car mart
Magi antic tracing air art
Gain magic in a grim margin
Am I an ant? A racing gnat?
I grin at rain, I’m a maniac again
Tag. I am it. ;)
A view is an antic of peaking surplantage,
of a particulated particular-
vantage of window dressing the addressing of
undressing, show, nark of culpability.
Causing a scene, perception slanted
with ideal synoptical instantainables processing implanted proof that is nosey and wants to know,
what it is, to see.
Til confession and contrition bring the soul’s dark night to day
In bright winter morning sun the boughs stand clear and free of shade
Those black crows gather now in jaunty comic antic hay
On the grass our feet may tread freed from the prison that we made
4 March 2020
Rithimus Divisa 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Gregory Barden
Taken from poem: Amid the Jagged Shadows.
Inspired by the write of you
creamed through a paper sieve to cup
with both hands the leavings that you trail
the write of you
like the chewed edge of hand pressed paper
like the apostrophe of lash on the cheeky page
I ogle the syncopated semen-antic drop of
the write of you
how often does the wonder of you flash
across the film of my eyes unable reach
for I am so enchanted with the coffee-au-lait
write of you
Eerie
Witches
Ugly
Creepy
Freaky
Sneaky
Floating
Chanting
Cackling
Laughing
Broom sticks
Flying
Moonlight
Passing
Shadows
Waving
Witchcraft
Praying
Evil
Lethal
Hexing
People
Wilful
Wanton
Values
Rotten
Cats and
Magic
Crazy
Manic
Fear and
Panic
Wicked
Antic
Spell cast
Spoken
Lotion
Potion
Hocus
Pocus
Witchy
Slogan
17.10.23
My imagination has run off the track,
I truly doubt I will want to coax her back.
She never listens to my ideas of the day.
Preferring to lean in her own special way.
I have tried to tame her down, calling her bluff.
She is snippy and snarly, giving me guff.
Her ways are off the track, pure and plain.
Others might agree she is almost insane.
My muse rolls her eyes in jest at her present antic.
She’ll come back when she’s ready, so I will not panic.
Indigo ink dreams
Dripping from heart
Tattoos tongue with kinetic kiss
Green electric buzz like sip
Of fine blueberry wine so sweet
Dreamy turquoise love touch
Filling me up with red desire
On fire for your romantic antic
Sweeping me off my feet
Carrying me with ease
Of a blue breeze to deserted love island
Where tan sands caress like brown hands
White waters flow warm and toasty
Fast slow then in closing cold
Never let go of this love
For it floats like a boat
The reason of the poet is always the better,
Following his steps is reassuring
He sees peace in the fields of poppy or gold
He sees the horizon above the uncertain roofs,
Read the future beyond the mountains of Olympus,
He knows when he’s wrong, he’s crying
And apologizes to the saints or antic goddess
The sound of cannons makes him doubt you,
He only fights the world with books,
He believes the bees, when he shares the honey,
He thinks about, and love the world for better time.