Short Awful Poems
Short Awful Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Awful by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Awful by length and keyword.
a...'full loss of why'
may be...
as..."full'a soap eh?!"
...so...
to...file lots'a 'why's
may require...
a...full-loss-of-pee
stans sand
does the process of elimination ~ make much sense by inclusion
or is mans reasoning clearly rearranged ~ by woman’s exclusion
By
David Kavanagh
hms
Entrant into Susan Burch’s “Couplet Challenge” contest
There’s this one chore I only do if I must
I hate working on it, making myself dust
awful sad the lives we see,
the why is hidden, suffering thee,
is there logic so mesmerising?
in a hell world surprising?
work it out logically...?
Don
thank you Carol Brown
Once I ate a defective Oreo
I’d imported from Lower Borneo
I’d spent too much money
My stomach felt funny
Then my 'plumbing' gave it the old heave-ho
How Awful with Trump
How Awful with Trump we were affiliated;
What happened we had been humiliated;
Making excuses;
Breaking truces;
In an uncomfortable position are situated.
Jim Horn
AWFUL
AWFUL IS YOUR ANGUISH,ALINATES,ABHORFUL FOOR YOU AND THEY
ALIENING YOUR AURA AWESOMELY ALIKE A ALONELY ALIEN AWFUL AS A AWOKEN ALIEN FROM AWFUL PLANET
PLEASE COMMENT LIKE NAND SHARE
The Scarecrow, he was born without a brain
And the Tinman got all rusted from the rain
Because the Tinman had no heart
And because the Scarecrow was smart
Instead of walking to Oz, he'd taken a train
i cant write poetry mumble some nonsense
i cant write poetry random words seem to fit
i cant write poetry writers block blocks writing
i cant write poetry i actually cant
Killed by Enemies
Legs blown off sometimes
Exploding Mine Field
Morphine helps little
Eyes close for last time
Buddies are sad
Morale goes down
Honored by taps
Flag draped coffin
Sad mothers
Sad fathers
Bugle dirge
Awful
War
there was horrible, terrible, awful news in the chicken house
the hens were in a frenzy, because of the red white-tailed louse
He had not only stolen their eggs, but devoured them too
Then he had done the ultimate sin- ran off with a chick, Little Lou.
Awful anarchy in my quiet heart
Takes me on a wild ride
Of misunderstanding and madness
My body’s government is overthrown
And the armies have disbanded
The confusion complicates cool cadets
Marching to the sporadic beat of my core
The rough rhythm makes me disregard
That this pulse was ever orderly
Form:
Bright is the night
And dark is the day
The world is now changing
The good will not stay
The stars have burned out
And the land has gone dry
Jesus we need a miracle
Just to get us by
Lord please show Your mercy
Breathe Your breath into our lungs
But God said no
And that was so
The awful end has just begun
Why get stuck in an awful marriage forever more.
Never again will you be able to soar.
Only one,
You will be able to adore.
Only you won’t adore,
But you will regret forever more.
Between freedom you’ll be torn.
In a marriage I’ll never be scorn.
It’s a curse forever worn.
I fell sorry for the ones this disease hath born.
Form:
Awful Offal
O' inspiration, you wretched little whore
Fickle as a feral cat
Your siren song, a wailing howl
Poison arid fellows, foul
Luring lesser louts to shore
Surviving yet another spat
Rising higher than before
No time to waste on lowly life
Will not taste their bitter strife
For the falcon feeds off of the rat
sometimes the pain is awful;
i smell you as if you were next to me
missing every part of you
your amazing features
your soft voice
i miss you more and more each day
one day the pain won’t be so bad
maybe i’ll move on or i’ll be with you again
whatever happens i’ll forever be grateful for each and every moment with you.
the best experience i’ve had
Damn poetry is awful! I had to turn off that show on NPR when the poet got round to the line, "Literature is the ashes under the playground set" spoken in such earnest. If there was a god, poets who came up with lines like that would be stricken dead by multiple lightning bolts from a clear blue sky without enough of them left to scatter under the aforementioned playground set.
Bogs Is Truly Awful !
Cold like old man bony
the wind whooshes,
through impudent rushes
empty, stony, hungry
It's special beauty
melancholic,
making wretched poetry
The night skys velvet
torn to shreads
you there
stumbling woefully
Your two pale feet
turning brown, brown
as Sunday gravy
And now you come to
understand
Bogs ain't for man,
the sad or even crazy,
bogs is best appreciated
(no matter what
you're told)
by poets
and the lonely
Form:
I’m breaking from the weight of all the people I’ve become. The newest is a parent who must live with what he’s done.
You still know how to hate me now for doing what I do. I take away the things you love – the things that make you you.
When you forget about the hate and other things you know, an awful sort of peace will fall and cover us like snow.
Then once again you’ll hold my hand – your eyes might ask me why. I know that you won’t understand the reason that I cry.