Short Bequeathing Poems
Short Bequeathing Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Bequeathing by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Bequeathing by length and keyword.
Jocular jokester jetting past Jib.
Joyful juggernaut jousting in jest.
Benevolent benefactor beseeching baby’s bib.
Bequeathing beloved blue beret, belly button the best.
After all these many years, I've still got much hair
Must thank Mom and Dad for bequeathing my share
Of gorgeous white locks
It totally rocks
Ladies clamour to check out my other wares
After all these many years, I've still got much hair
Must thank Mom and Dad for bequeathing my share
Of gorgeous white locks
It totally rocks
Ladies clamour to check out my other wares
It's the beatific strand of all times
I'm feminine in body and mind
Bequeathing my breath
Dispelling darkness
Pulling strings
For the cosmos to dance with
Wise are partners
Of this fusion
In perpetual tune
With this bandwidth-
(c)copyright-vijay nair
Melancholic drivel, gravitating stammer
Mosaic affinity, reticent clammer
Gushing droplets and whimpered dawn
Hindering clarity, vanquished, withdrawn
Trembling masquerade, deserted palm
A cleaved cradle, posing qualm
Seeping sorrow, hoping consider
Bequeathing dainty, wishing deliver.
In the firmament of trees
October's eye
looks down in cruel azure
on summer's absinthe leaves,
flocking like survivors
to a mortal haven.
Autumn's blood magma
creeps through leaves
bequeathing fire
and brittle amber.
Fertile frost breeds
in arctic prisms,
whispering feral eddas
as withering violets
echo bitter truth.
Violet Kiss of Dawn
Welcoming
the breaking breath
of dawn
weak as a new born
fawn
Spirits of the past
lingering
in the violet
morning mist
Dew drops
reflecting
dream’s early
mornings kiss
bequeathing
now the hauntings
for the day
to be dismissed
while my spirit
resists.
© Debra Squyres 2015
within the whisper
of yesterday and now
of anticipation
of a dream
words are imbedded
deeply carved
in the heart of a
poet
the words become his
children
to lavish praise
and teach them where
to go
and grow
the poet challenges
the words
as if they were
colors of his heart
and soul
bequeathing to them
the spirit of
interlocking freedom
he has done his best
and that makes him
smile
After a long time, I heard them again:
peacocks.
Bequeathing the pilgrim sun to palm trees;
poised to open sexuality.
Ah,the purple lips of a downing
cloud sets the sky on a chase
for a lost love of the blazing
moon in the starless night.
A recent pluck of a sharp grace folds
the lingerie, you open the fist to let
the explosion fly away.
This was the start of a crimson romance.
Satish Verma
Form:
Life has been a day folio of sort,
Giving birth to change within each day;
The thoughts I chose to not abort,
Sometimes, for years, I had to pay.
They shaped my life as now I stand,
Bequeathing me not so many regrets;
Things weren't always as I planned,
But I muddled through those upsets.
But through it all God has blessed,
Without Him who knows where I'd be?
At each day's end I claim Godly rest,
For His grace is sufficient for me.
Today, I sit 'mongst thoughts of erstwhile sorrows,
Which intermittently ooze from my intellect's hub;
Reminiscing three young men granted no tomorrows,
Bequeathing displeasing whispers I'd like to scrub.
Reopened today, are aggrieves, from past years,
In seemingly blameless doings they were caught;
Causing a mother's eyes to be ensconced with tears
Exposed was man's detriment to sin's onslaught.
in memory of three young men from my town.
How does my body
This flesh that withholds my soul,,
manage to bear the weight from the chains that have been embedded upon my bequeathing heart?
Where does one hide the pain that is encrusted upon these eyes that are dreary and now fail to sleep?
Why cant my mind acquit, my heart adrift, my skin ache for the touch of another?
Does it have to be me that has to live with this night, because happiness is the other side of this mirror?
h
Inventory, Inventory,
everything is for the glory
Innocence, my innocence
e'er bequeathing recompense!
Where but deny ~ my own expense
the cost of trial in motion's hence?
Oh innocence ~ my heart's own fence
was crumpled ~ from without's consent!
Ne'er more, ne'er more ~ the hoaxed pretense,
reveal the scourge
the scourger's meant!
Oh Innocence, my innocence ~
. . . . .the inventoried soul's relent!
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