Short Barb Poems
Short Barb Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Barb by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Barb by length and keyword.
barb, abuse, word play,
there is a hidden barb
camouflaged in petal words
I can feel the sting
We Ask For Peace Once More
the casualties of of war
that shock me
to the core
barb wire at
The Broadband of Truth
thoughts now trapped
in barb wire and booby trapped
still unable to sustain and reason
lean towards the broadband of truth...
The Coldest Screams
Beautiful ice crystals
Adorn these barb wired fences
At the concentration camps, but
The coldest screams
Flow through these prison walls
children play conkers
trees cast precious seed
nut brown in soft barb green case....
children play conkers
I do not know?
Twisted and tormented
You keep things in, you keep things out
A guardian, a jailer...
The Fisherwoman - For Contest
A desperate spinster, Jane took
strong measures the day she would cook
fresh trout. Her date bit
the barb left in it!
He truly was caught on her hook!
sounds like the bitter former lover,
venom with a point of view,
copped a few darts me, whenever,
crossed her path the arrows flew,
re:Poisonous Barb.....Owen Yeates...
Jeer, farcical cheer
Jive, cheer to sneer
Jest, barb to test
Pun, jest for fun
Joke, fun to poke
Jab, poke to grab
Joust, jabs that roust
Jibe, taunting vibe
Josh, vibe to squash
Jolt, tingling volt
Jaunt, volting flaunt
Eight Nuns Running
Eight Nuns Running
Eight nuns running down a path far below
Ethel, Edith, Ellen, Barb each in deep snow
From the way they all look might be putting
up a gong show, till they all fall down
while they're all wearing frilly long gowns.
Here are some wacky names, my doctor is Liam Crummy
Barb Dwyer, Seymour Legg, Stan Still, and Terri Bull, really funny
If you want more here's others to avail
Ima Kettle, Dan Druff, Rusty Nails
Can't imagine what their parents called their puppy
barb, bird, nature,
I watch the Grouse do their dance,
As each feather is enhanced.
Vane or down they’re preened and cleaned,
Keeping them healthy and streamed.
At the tail’s base an oil gland,
Makes the feathers dry and grand.
Barb to rachis beak nibbled;—
For the courtship ritual.
barb, beauty, love, sensual, sexy, youth,
he makes me offerings,
little strings of his face he places on my knee,
a line of black ink
in a bowl of milk
one day I slid
my lover's beard barb across his cheek-
watching him squirm and giggle made me giggle too,
for he could not fathom the ecstasy of a hundred on my neck,
or a thousand between my legs...
May Be Habit-Forming
barb, addiction, anger, drug,
A life of drugs; he laughs, he shrugs
Found this world to be "non-addictive"
Hopelessly dependent; oh, can I end it?
Hurt so deeply, now I'm vindictive
Construct the thickest, strongest shell
Impenetrable fortress; unstoppable blockade
Barb-wire, a moat- ten million guards!
They come, they go; they glow, then fade......
Presence and Pleasance
barb, allegory, analogy, goodbye,
Presence and Pleasance
Not here now but still feel presence;
Memory does exist in every essence;
Best friends to find;
Have left us behind;
Always appealing was their presence.
Our friends barb and Steven Schaffer
just left to return back to Seattle. Sure
was so nice having both of them here.
of small differences…
The egos crown
The sharper each
The more frequently
blows just one way
Into the face of
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
barb, work, writing,
Words from limbo
Slipping them from
The pocket of
Your muse, onto
Thick with roses.
Or threaded with
Altar for the gentle
Blood of visionaries,
Mingled with axle grease
For sturdy wordsmiths
Eager to lay concrete verse
Lasting beyond time.
With a Lessening of Light
barb, family, loss
I pressed a barb
under my tongue
to remind me
I pierced glass
into my heart
to awaken a story
as blood dripped
a memory formed
in the pain and suffering
an effigy wavered
then I knew
should never be told
and forever remain
locked under my tongue
speared into my heart
and silent in eternity
bird in a
on novel lives
stuck in barb wire snares
itch itch itch
the language is
© Kim van Breda—8 January 2016
The sun forces her face through the dark morning sky.
The trees garner their new autumn garb.
Birds converse on the dry crunchy grass.
Lumbering cows meander behind the fences of barb.
The morning is anew and yesterday is gone.
Hot summer nights give way to a cool dawn.
My troubles are constant yet seem to fade away.
The crisp cool air makes it all OK....
Let's go to Barb's Place
Have something to eat
Her perogies and cabbage rolls
Are really hard to beat
If that's not enough
You should try out her ribs
Gooey and delicious
You better bring a bib
When it comes to cooking
Barb's food is like art
She prepares every morsel
With love from the start
Welcome to Poetry Soup Barb, what better person to contribute to the soup than a Chef Extrodinare. I am sure you will add your own special flavours.
The Harvest Of The Seed
barb, death, dedication, depression, devotion, education
Each field is barren white with snow,
around me blind, they know.
Darkness brings the haze of dawn,
how many must it show.
While many miles of web it's barb,
it tastes and grows.
Bringing home the wheat,
and powdered souls,
spread open far and wide.
Touching only youth,
Each gem from stone,
pours out and lost our seed it keeps.
Is It Poetry
barb, on writing and words,
To find someone cruel or who’s lacking in sense,
The use of “retarded” is good evidence.
It’s always a put-down, it’s mean and it’s low
And aimed most at those who are not in the know.
The person who’d utter this word with contempt
Mistakenly thinks from its barb he’s exempt.
We can’t help our looks or our size or our brain
But we choose our words, which can cause someone pain.
“Retarded” can get my blood boiling, but
I look at its user and keep my mouth shut.
A Lasting Impression
barb, death, faith, friend, loss,
I hardly knew him,
but I loved that little man.
He sat a few rows forward
and slightly to our left.
Every Sunday morning,
I looked for Ron and Barb.
I watched him smile,
and raise his arms in praise.
I waited to hear his hearty
"Amen!" to the Pastor's words,
and was never disappointed.
When he became ill, and his
place on the pew was empty,
there was a void in my heart.
There must have been one
in Heaven without him.
cfa © 8/15/2010
That “Britches” Sees
During the frigid night
Hoarfrost has embraced her branches
As a tight fitting tunic,
Tailor made, just for her.
Night Wind’s chaffing bite
Has long since given way to crisp morning air,
And snow has lengthened into fog,
Past where aqueous eyes can take in;
Facing east, car’s window rolled down,
A broken barb wire fence, this tree,
And a subtle hint of promise,
Where a rising sun will soon be;