Short Beaded Poems
Short Beaded Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Beaded by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Beaded by length and keyword.
The streets are filled
Water meets earth
Tune of "Rain beats"
12.07.2020
For Charles Messina's "Bauk Than - Than Bauk" contest
The morning sky is clear without the autumn's raining gloom.
Soon I will once again be laying with him in his room,
As well as gift him something I wish I had beaded with a loom.
Lost in today,
found in tomorrow
tears roll like silver
lace beaded swans
Chasteness wanton,
timestamped forever
music absolving
—calling beyond
(Dreamsleep: November, 2021)
hush now my daughter
let lamplights crown your damp hair
waiting for beaded prayers
to bathe teary sky
empty Mom's chair rocks no more…
heaven sails with her pearled lips
Choka
Listen to poem:
Droplets beget
drips and drops that fall
to splash, splat
plip and plop
in pool below.
Dew doplets
beaded on glass and leaves,
coalesce as rivulets,
let to run down panes
when it suffices.
this new moon with her red
cakes of beaded fragrance
i view the rusty images
of the young stars
above the crude sphericals
of thine fore-runner-abode -
how long have the stars
and the comets about thee
stood with watchful eyes?
Form:
Her exotic brunnette hair,
Flows,
With her long gypsy,
Skirt,
Emblazoned,
With surreal flowers,
As she sashays,
Through the beaded,
Light,
To the sweet chimes,
To relax,
Carefree,
Upon the rose velvet couch
Reynaldo Casison
A clear-beaded mousie
with a pointy black nose,
twitchable beaded tail,
and ruffly yellow clothes.
The tail can tilt her head--
she nods without a squeak!
Quiet little church mouse,
I bought from a boutique.
(True story!)
orange glint of night
dipping on my warm bosoms...
through pours of sunset
like sparkling champagne...
the beaded whiff of mystique
dances on my flesh
End October Standard Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand /center>
Breezy afternoon
when all but rare roses shine
on your neck
and there i am,
ripping the tapestry of chaste kisses.
One more afternoon, and another
these flowers red, I would soak
forever in our beaded bed.
Roses Roses Roses Contest
Sometimes stories are to be looked for
The words are to be weaved in
Some emotions are to be beaded
Then some smile and tears along with fears
Like moon and stars are to be tucked in
Then you have a story turned into a good story.
On my leg
the smallest of red ant
racing all alone.
Beyond my curtain
beaded curtain of rain
drip dripping.
Squirrel and wrens
at once feeding on seeds
fallen from feeder.
On my porch
return of colorful frog
seated in basket.
*
Flames of perdition
Painting passion’s fire
Moaning moonlight
Squeezing sensuous desire
Lovers’ lips
Speaking sun glazed sin
Tasting temptation
Beaded on sultry skin
Sweaty sighs
Restless for relief
Smearing seduction
On eyes of disbelief
The square head and bossing frontals,
The flat occiput and prominent parietals,
Open fontanellae and sweating fore head,
Present on the chest rosary beaded.
The lower chest sulcussed and sternum depressed,
The legs are bowed and the tummy protruded.
Form:
Deafening crowd,
Definitely shout,
Defyingly loud,
Undeniably wow’d.
Hands stretched to the ceiling.
Sweat beaded faces.
Driven by the feeling.
Adrenal speed races.
Been here before,
But never quite so right.
It’s in the air tonight.
My kind of night!
RIVER LINE TOURIST
National Geographic frame:
pleasure of plum water lilies,
under potent panama sky.
A dugout canoe rows us through.
Embera with beaded skirt, our rudder.
Caiman perched on edge of Chagris River.
2/25/2017
River Line 8/8/8/8 10/10 Unrhymed
Tired is the shallow time
that keeps on ticking, with hands that climb.
Grasping on the beaded minute
and stapled to their winding arms.
Every hour keeps on passing
and yet this face just stays the same.
The gears inside are grinding ages,
how I wish there was a change...
Beaded tresses and silk kimono rustle with finesse,
Her geisha heels tapping restlessly on moist Yakasa weeds
From an enchi...there he comes secretly, through groans of monks’ bells
*enchi---Japanese garden
-----------------------
Brian Strand
My imagination ran shamelessly amok last night
While I slumbered in beaded sweat, askance that I would
Be peddling ornate coffins to the absurdly rich, then
Second handing them to poorer souls for paltry profit.
Four lines from Dream Macabre
Submitted to Liberum Divisa 4 Contest
February 17, 2021
So be it, proper
To dawn the light shown
beaded water particles sun shines through
Rainbows
~
colors of promises galore
God's universal
a painted picture
all of nature smiles
~
Here we Are?
UNIVERSAL PROPER SMILES PROMISES
5/14/21
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
There will never
Be sufficient down pour
In washing away your crucial absence
Even word smith falls short in lessening the pain
Primal lesson in contact with you, one is squandered
In treasured troves, expense of your beaded words
Will pay to shine ones soul's mane
Without you life neither was nor
Ever will be the same
A grey-blue hue pokes through naked branches
offering the near-dark sleepy sky of an almost day
almost night, almost timeless light.
What does time matter when all is suspended like this?
When neither sun nor moon will touch the steel-velvet
liquid of this disappearing moment.
One look of beaded pearl upon the breast of winter.
Hot ice
Frozen sweat
beaded across my forehead
Like icicles
Sweet dullness
Sharp tendencies
Cuts across my teeth
Bitter sweetness across my poet
Smile then my facial muscles crack
Upside down miracles take the wrinkles away
Sing out problems to reign with hope
Nonsense of the fuss
Hair growing out of potato spuds
Noxema help!
Still night broken by call of soul owl
watching over the lodge of my father's brother.
The next world awaits my uncle.
His walking clothes prepared.
His feather oiled to a brave sheen.
Knife freshly sharpened in beaded sheath.
He calls to owl. I'm ready.
The women begin the journey chant.
My father dances with joy tears.
3/30/14
Hibiscus glistened in their beaded sleeves
as wind played keys atonal in the oak.
I plucked taut rain strings weeping from the eaves
and heard an angel whisper as he spoke
the scattered verses in my nomad mind
imprisoned in the gray cell of a storm.
Then as I played that harp in restless kind
a blue wisp in the clouds began to form.
6/13/18