Short Bangles Poems
Short Bangles Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Bangles by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Bangles by length and keyword.
My ears follow your bangles' symphony,
with closed eyes I see our sky,
rapture in horizon.
===============000===============
lost bangles
scatter in gold circles
under the marital bed
twisted sheets
crossed by afternoon sunlight
at our feet
quick breaths
recovery
rapture
Bengali women squatting
Pitchers, bangles,gossips
The river Barak indifferent
waking me up
from my midnight dream--
glass bangles
kashinath karmakar (kash poet)
http://www.dailyhaiku.org/haiku/2014-december-14
Music
from her bangles,
sleepless night now waiting,
another moonlight sonata,
goodnight.
=====================
By:kashinath karmakar
NOT FOR CONTEST
No Longer Being
After No Longer Being in the woods,
Brought out bows, bangles and goods;
After picture drew,
Then we knew,
Our solution through all time withstood.
Jim Horn
The night in the wine the hands pouring
The dawn on the hibiscus on the hair-bun
Afternoon at the walnut shadows ever growing
Evening with the sounds of bangles, no gun
October 9, 2023
Baubles and bangles
doo-dads and what-nots
Trinkets and knick-knacks
don't stir my pot...
Excitement, adventure
discovery, peril
Launch me over Niagara Falls
pulling levers in a barrel
Her satin pants and bra kept slipping
she was forever at them hauling
her knicks around her ankles
her face as red as bangles
as at them she kept on tugging
written 04/26/2015
Contest: Limerick sponsor Jan
charm(ed) bracelets
and bangles
and books on
strange science
in fogs
of whatever
all sold
by the locks
as sellers
in cellars
with culture
on counters
sell lifestyles
as street food
and vinyl
as clocks.
You Quiz-puzzlers out there,
I hope you take care,
And don't sucumb to high blood pressure,
Please don't implode like the good sub, U.S.S. Thresher,
So take it in stride,
With the answers I do hide,
And you'll wake up all that much fresher
Foreplay
melodic love
her bangles' symphony
sleepless night's moonlight sonata
prelude
© 2011 kashinath karmakar
=========================
Placement:3rd; (September 2011)
By:kashinath karmakar
Contest:Melody of Cinquain
Sponsor:Nette Onclaud
I wanna give you my bangles of rhyme
Will you go with me on the path of time
I wanna keep you in my heart
Even if we are worlds apart
I wanna see your smile always
I know your heart is my best place
I wanna love you more and more
Baby you can cure my heart’s sore
Those moon-lit nights,
those fragrant winds,
those dense trees behind the mountain,
those ruthless gazes
that tore through my heart
and took me apart,
those glitters of your bangles,
those plundering fingers,
those sighs that sat upon your lips
..........it` s all coming back to me!
1.
quiet morning _
petals love the watering hand
2.
shadows of a tamarind tree _
your company
3.
jute bangles _
smell of perspiring hands
4.
light warmth _
cups love having tea from your teapot
5.
pale yellow hydrangea _
our moonlit evening walk
_____________
July 2, 2025
HER
Shiny nose ring glistened on her smooth face
Row of rings sparkled on her delicate fingers
Pearl necklace garlanded her silky neck
Silver anklets slept on her silent legs
Square bangles hugged her dead wrists
Flowered wreath lay next to her decorated corpse
Free soul soared in freedom to utopia!
Underworld gangs are brothels.
Gangsters working in there are sex workers.
Politicians are the clients(Buyers)of these sex workers.
DON is the(NAIKA)of these sex workers.
Police works as a Pimp and law enforcement agencies
are the spectators and have worn bangles,
ghangri chola,bra,and have become transgender...
Note.My wife is a hooker..
You know, I want, I want, I want...
Hurry up! Let's go for shopping...
I just want two bangles of rainbow
and a simple anklet of lightning
Small earrings of glowing snow
and a necklace of rain dropping
I won't spend much money...
So no need me of stopping...
And tuck you in my hair bun,
will not it be so frightening...
02 October 2018
03.36am
Form:
Silk twirls come alive beneath the moonlit sky,
Violins awaken old stories with their cry,
Silver bangles jangle, flashing all around,
Laughter rises, circling the heated ground,
Bare feet blur and leap beside the firelight,
Wandering drums keep the beat just right,
Each turn becomes a timeless romance,
Now time itself has become the dance.
Saffron robes, long hair
A shoulder bag and a pouch
Of dirty dust which
He calls sacred is all that
Into this cheat’s making goes
A woman lonely
And worried is his sure prey
Gold bangles of hers
Are his, as she falls to his
Talk of foolproof remedies.
S.Jagathsimhan Nair
July 23rd 2011
Contest: Bag of tricks
Sponser: Linda- Mary ,The sweetheart of P.S.
Born in a leaky roof
Chains normatively bangles
Where bales’ pay tribute
Their fate decided by others
Those who think themselves gods
Like dogs they penetrated
Only to recoil like serpents
Swallowing the hunters game
He violated their rule
And spoke against their doctrines
He slept but they were gone
Buried he was in our minds
To die a man
Is to forever live
Black beads hung around her neck.
Begonias fill her hair.
Golden bangles on each wrist.
Crimson lips and eyes that stare.
A feather gliding forward
Like a swallow on still air
Void of every passion
A heart filled with life’s despair
Sweet dreams dead from sorrow,
No worldly joy to share.
She drifts in solemn solitude
For the love that is not there.
written ©2018.11.12
In firelight, moved by percussive beat
along with a tambourine’s jingle-jangle,
a young girl swirls on tiny dancing feet.
Around her ankles twirl large bangles.
As she thrusts and twists her hips petite,
her clothing, with bright adornments, spangles.
Her face in moonlight is so joyous and sweet
as faster and faster she brings gypsy heat.
#12 on 100 Best New Poems List as of July 28, 2026
Black Mud, Grey Ash
The water struck
and wiped a village
from the earth
A dreamland of golden wheat
gone in a single thunder
Trees stand empty
forgetting the lovers
under their shade
Silence waltzes
through the lanes
with destruction’s tune
Bangles
schoolbags
a lone flute
now ash
on the wind
And photos
hold our lives
breathing
in black mud
I sift lines
Retrace old footsteps
I sip wine
Retouch old mind maps
I scan plots
Refine odd angles
I cast lots
Remind odd bangles
I seek drafts
Retrace fond trips
I feed craft
Rescind dim grip
I stitch reach
Retrieve old pitch
I beach niche
Relaunch prompt itch
I pry poise
Restore odd oomph
I try noise
Reward odd blooms
Leon Enriquez
03 May 2017
Singapore