Short Baltimore Poems
Short Baltimore Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Baltimore by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Baltimore by length and keyword.
A gift inside the box...
one question left unanswered
Whose key to then unlock
lay distant—still unfound
(Baltimore Maryland: April, 2019)
it's striking orange
baltimore oriole reigns
royal in my yard
Heidi Sands
5/5/25
(C)ooyright
Harry Potter and Dumbledore
Two young Boys from Baltimore
Loved Harry Potter and Dumbledore
One boy said “I’m a Wizard
The Other turned into a Lizard
A Lizard and a Wizard in Baltimore
Walk Backwards
There once was a young Postman from Baltimore,
Frequently walked backwards, from door to door.
He knew that his actions were strange to be seen,
But he required to know, where he’d just been.
unmistakable
the knife slicing through daybreak ~
songs heard near and far
a striking beauty
the baltimore oriole ~
bird of my home state
The best hunting dog in all Baltimore
Was my butt belching blue dog Amador.
Aghast guests once heard a blast
As Blue exuded his past,
Leaving a thief flat, gassed out on the floor.
Date: 2/25/2022
Rhyme: 10, 10, 7, 7, 10
The Baltimore oriole sports an orange coat,
But I haven't seen one; to L.A., they're remote.
Their rich whistling song is a sweet herald of spring.
Ones like Frank Robinson have a great home run swing.
We both reach
for a camera,
but forget
as the moment takes wing.
Tangerine buds bloom
into a sherbet fountain.
An orange and black dartle
of downy sunshine.
Hearts abeyant,
our perception hangs
from each ribbon of light.
Once came a smart tinker to Baltimore
He peddled his pots near a dry-goods store
He hawked them all in one day
For whatever folks would pay
Then hurriedly left and came back with more.
written January 19, 2022
michelle
creative,sexy,outgoing,smart
sister of latrice
lover of those who love me
who feels safe,loved,lonely,and scared
who fears lightning,spiders,death and slugs
who like to see life,colors,flowers and love
resident of baltimore, md
pryor
Sunrise
illuminates
clear blue skies, solid frost
lightly glaciated birdbath
where a sparrow pecks, tries to get a sip
in the limelight upon the ground
baltimore oriole
revealed at
Sunrise
Date written: January 15, 2023
Another Arena Bowl
was this team's goal.
The Philadelphia soul.
Dealing with reality,
a third-in-a-row trophy,
was not going to be.
Their season is now complete.
They went down to defeat.
The team from Baltimore did them in.
A championship the Soul would not win.
We both reach for a camera
both forget to click on the image
as a flight of rainbows takes wing.
Tangerine buds bloom into a sherbet fountain.
Orange and black ride a ray of sunlight.
“Phew, did you catch it?”
“No I got nuked by the moment!”
“Yes, better that way.” she replied thoughtfully.
Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Baltimore County
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: January/2015
B R I D G E
V E
O R
^^^^^^^^^
Patapsco River
DEATH OF A GYPSY QUEEN
They gathered round the dying place
to bid their queen farewell
the glow of every gypsy fire
left little more to tell
for round about each glowing flame
a bondage few could know
and when the queen departed them,
each gypsy felt her go.
True story, in Baltimore Johns Hopkins Hospital Camput
1959
Form:
He crashed against my glass
stunned into silence
he lay in shock, poor thing
I placed him in a lined box
wrapped in soft bamboo
he rested and recouped
Two hours later
I found him standing
at the edge, waiting
We made eye contact
I took a photo,
then he flew away
Boy ! he really made my day.
Moor from Baltimore
Planning urban areas
Curiosity
Studying the stars at night
Benjamin the erudite
She looks through the lens,
a Baltimore Oriole
has just flared into orange sherbet,
her wide-eyed grin shines even brighter.
The bird alights on a branch just above us
blooms again in a sunburst of colors.
My mind is a fizz of euphoria.
I even bless Baltimore, for being
that golden city in the clouds
that I always thought it was.
Edgar my dear
Why do you have that spear
Is that your plan?
When in a jam?
Scare the bloody Kansas City yellow and red
When they fight the fowl volture appearing dead
Spirit Haunting
Spirit Daunting
Blazing under the Baltimore sun
Until Poe's poetic message is done
No swift moves will be here
Only Chiefs carcasses holding their Daly beer
I am a fat oriole from Baltimore
With baseball cap and baseball mitt
I became a star cause well I could really hit
Made my money, to build my nest
Never grew up, cause I was born with good luck
I am a big fat Oriole I say to you
Now I am retired
So I sit in by chair
Eating my Oreos, double stuffed flair
Oriole oriole eating my oreos
I am fat cookie, a Baltimore storio
The Baltimore Catechism,
mornings at eight
Sister Marcella,
don’t ever be late
Its message didactic,
the devil to run
Each question, each answer,
with God zero-sum
Who and what made me,
and why every day
Resistance was futile,
dissent not displayed
An altar boy’s memories,
his sacristy torn
Still missing the process
—where freedom was born
(Saint Thomas of Villanova Chapel: December, 2021)
You’re looking through the lens,
then a flare of orange sherbet, a Baltimore Oriole!
Your wide-eyed grin is hard to look away from.
A bright splash of tangerine,
flashes of white on each black wing,
a bedazzle of delight.
You keep smiling into the camera -
a moment of euphoria.
If the metropolis is anything like the bird
Baltimore must be golden city in the clouds
yet even I know that’s a cock-eyed vision.
He never liked "Bob" - now a success
So Robert Croslin he is
Raise in Baltimore ("projects")
His mom (Aurelia) is grandma to my kids
His only son, a lawyer in DC
In his own right, now elected
Mayor of Hyattsville! (Praise God)
Once, my "good" eye-doctors place
Where I volunteered for its Literacy Council
Memories of Library, churches, New Year breakfasts!
A liveable community, a bit costly now
But memories continue to layer on
He did dance with the whore,
Desiring to lust against the marriage law;
It all began with a drink and then some more:
He should have been mindful, but got other deeds
ignore.
This lady been a foreigner from Baltimore,
Has been around here strictly on tour;
The Priest hid his frame, and sipped all that he had
pour,
In his clout, forgetting his family lore;
Did taste that honeycomb, but did feel a sour;
For his religion, he has seemed a flaw.
Tears Were Shed
We did decide to take a tour
And ere to go were not sure;
Maybe to Baltimore and then back
Or Phillie and see Freedom Bell crack.
Arrived at Norfolk and saw naval base;
Then off to Raleigh we would race;
After that to Ashville did have to go;
Ended up in snow and car went slow.
Went to Wilmington to see a friend
Which is were trip came to an end;
We were all tired and went to bed;
Died and over grave tears were shed.
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