Short Apocalyptic Poems
Short Apocalyptic Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Apocalyptic by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Apocalyptic by length and keyword.
We're the most intelligent species
Solely by our own admissions
So why do we continue making
Such apocalyptic decisions
The way is not seen
The blinding lights are heavy
Covering my eyes
Long lines of saints and sinners
This world is nearing an end
Apocalyptic approach,
a way for getting nothing.
Altruistic endeavors
means more fruit for the hungry.
Which avenue do we take?
Who, today, do we think of?
The choice is forever ours.
ancient apocalyptic answers
bearing beautiful beauteous beatitudes
carrying celestial conclusions
debunking decadent devilment
effortlessly elevating eloquence
forever fascinating faithful flibbertigibbets
Apocalyptic breaches
can destroy eternity;
for glorious heights
indulge jumping
knowledge; Limitations
may never over power
quarantined rights,
seperate toxins, unite
volcanoes' windows
exploding years. Zap!
signal of approaching cataclysm?
we can't see the gauntlet
it's past the cunning poison
a villain of his own timeline
piqued by an illiquid New Moon
Level 2 risk for severe stratagems
Earth braces for an apocalyptic slap
this time it could break
Earths red crust shudders
Skyline crackles purple forks
Famine feet flurry
My willow tree scorched
Lunar eclipse eternal
Barefoot beach walk dream
Volcanic ash views
A black season treelines crunch
Whimpered solo bark
Stagnant water tea
Pungent roots and herbs galore
Humanless abyss
100 times I have watched the flower burn
That bright flower that watches with hope
Before the cruel sky sends It's hateful lightening to raze it's roots.
Still my garden of hope regrows until again the lightening strikes.
Will all that's left soon be a garden of ashes and tears?
catastrophic year
australia is on fire
koalas dying
apocalyptic
more than one hundred degrees
affecting ocean
year of the fires
devastating marine life
australia crying
debilitating
four hundred eighty million
animals have died
catastrophic year
australia is on fire
koalas dying
Broke dumpster fire in Los Angeles !
Burnt vigorous Pacific Palisades.
Apocalyptic !
Weird ! Catastrophic !
Wild fire or something else ! Can you guess ?
running down the aisle way, a-giggling
streams of paper white, a-streaming
an apocalyptic wriggle, shelves emptying
toddlers buy their wine and away their going
unexpected per-usuality of a pandemic outing
per chance my husband’s found this greeting
the sun has set on 2020, yet the panic’s continuing...
1/6/2021
It Was Apocalyptic for those mountain folk...
A quarter million pristine acres crisped.
Dozens of homes destroyed by Hades' blow.
Everyone gushed about a bible.
That came through the inferno untouched.
Stranger still, some called it a miracle.
Despite a dozen people being burned alive...
Where was their miracle?
the nuclear snakes
slither into disaster
warheads waiting
in the dithering wings
~~~!~~~X~~~#~~~>>>
light explodes
darkness erupts
fiery projectiles
obliterate without mercy
<<<~~~#~~~X~~~!~~~
the reptilian warlords
fumble through flames
apocalypse waiting
amid withering declarations
Sweet apocalyptic frailty
seeps from weary sighs
Punctuated words we love
or love-words we despise
Body-rocking self-hatred
that drags us from the light
Idealism, perfection
thieves that rape us in the night
Car wrecks and too much sex
things that make us feel
taint of success, abject failure
things that make us real
Love was born
An instinct inborn
Love took its first step
An invasion of sense
Love was real
An emotion to feel
Love was a belief
An armament for relief
Love became a fallacy
An imprint of fantasy
Love turned into melancholy
An output of jealousy
Love became hate
An apocalyptic fate
Love became extinct
In my heart’s precinct
After the riot-
With Chairman Wuhan swirling around his head.
President Trump, with a Bible in hand,
strolled from the embattled white house
toward a smoldering church.
Quoted some apocalyptic verse.
Then cussed out the press...
For the first time in seventeen years
The cicadas were snickering
They were not in the least bit impressed.
Rapturistic and apocalyptic
Slowly, rhythmically I cried
The end of the world was here
I couldn't breathe, I tried
I knew you wouldn't come
I doubted you
Like sulfuric air, it choked me
There was nothing I could do
Pleaded, screamed, begged
Clawed at my heart for an escape
Aching and tormented
Is there recovery after rape?
Immortality upon coming of the phoenix reign,
Presence foretold, taking up the battle to send,
Turmoil and insurrection driving insane,
Mortals into a redirected sense to defend,
Liberty and justice suspending the vain,
Vigor of the peaceful people to lend,
Apocalyptic rumors driving the disdain,
Inside all the victims, that faith will tend.
Everything is temporary. Maybe it's not even real...
Life, this life...
I think you know, we have already been here.
Post-apocalyptic existence.
Utopian dreams.
Uncertainty at the surface,
the shift in between.
Contemplation and choice.
Birth.
Life.
Death.
They are all one and the same,
sharing the same knife,
to carve out the same name.
BROKEN TELESCOPE
Hung
from mouth
hitched to
Heaven by
this sleek steel
blade bungee
jumping
over rooftops
apocalyptic
vapors of gas
fizzle and
spout
Hung
broken
telescope
stars have fallen
from dark sky
floored
they lay where
I have no doubt
one by one they
will flicker
out
© Kim van Breda—4 January 2016
Pitch Dark Rain: Apocalyptic
vanished polar ice
oceans’ currents all askew. . . .
skylines blaze scarlet
comes a scathing wind
scorching land left not immersed. . . .
waters turn crimson
moans escape parched tongues
prayers ascend to ashen skies. . . .
pitch-dark rain pounds down
For Royal Ninja's Crimson Poetry Contest
where is everybody
the streets are bare
so eerily apocalyptic
a post nuclear scene
winter lingers ~ in sunless crisis
a dreadful silence lurks
thick heavy clouds droop nigh
spring may not come
we may never recover
wait… is that a crocus ‘neath that tree?
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~COVID 2020~ 2020
AP: 2nd place 2021
The sound of the trumpet rallys on
The composition of the skies was blur
Every shallow wind shifted soon the sky's turned
The trumpet sound
Rains armies of angels on white stallions
Descending at the head of them Jesus
Apocalyptic
Past the storm past the sword
Rapture dawn
3/16/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
Life may be hullabaloo now,
Perhaps apoplectic,
Conceivably cuckoo,
Or it feels like the
World is ending,
Apocalyptic,
But maybe—
Just maybe,
Someday
I'll be me,
Happy and free,
Like a ballerina
In a tedious tutu.
In the end,
All I want—
Just one thing—
Just one—
Inscribed on
My headstone
“ I have loved,
I have lived”
The mess you made, was
apocalyptic.
How the debris streaks
like a fireball.
The blood becomes
a sheer truth.
Moist, sticky on
your hands.
Up in your sleeves
the past hed planted
many wrecks,
You will not be able to retrieve.
The burnt-out roses
emit a beautiful odour.
The phoenix rises again
from the colored ash.
Satish Verma