Short Blanched Poems
Short Blanched Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Blanched by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Blanched by length and keyword.
“there isn’t
a stalk of
celery with
sense enough”
- says Sarah,
sarcastically,
simply asked
her favourite
flavour of
funeral dress.
After
as blanched I lay
chambers emptied,
pump drained
sinew reduced to
flaccid residue,
am I soul?
©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
February 22, 2012
The feathery dusky violets,
Of a purplish vaulted sky royal,
Tickles the genteel soles of twilights,
It wakes to a bluing chambered hall,
Whilst ups a blanched dress as white stars sprawl
Cerise clouds
picot
the mallows
edging
a wafer
of earth.
Distant mallards
volute the evening,
wainscot
the vault
of season--
a lattice
of lavalieres
mulling a sky
blanched as gin.
the
contemporary
forces
a
channel
of
rhythmic
physical
pulses
garnished
deservedly
with
vivid
elegant
re-imaginings
of
blanched
light
Blanched veils there and above
Hold it in stony repose
Throughout time's continuum
And blustering air flows.
Earth granted an ovation -
Nodding its magnificence -
But bigger still is the one
Who goes and conquers it.
The wispy withered woman at her wake
Was a bent blanched bloom, yet without mistake
Her lyric words march to our drumming hearts,
To each body, mind and soul love impart.
Her memory shines in the jeweled eyes
Of grandkids making music and mud pies.
Blue Balls
his head is so COLD he can’t think
his butt - COLD blanched white - never pink
cold he stands quiv’rin’
helpless cold shiv’rin
as his COLD-blue man-bits slow shrink
©1/7/2019
Same Word Winter Limerick Poetry Contest
sponsor – Charles Messina
SNOWY SILENCE
Snow’s silence slowly
Floats down on the blanched land,
Stops memory - frozen moment -
Whispers do not hurry.
Her over-ardent love clings to
My every-cornered coat,
Reduces my footfalls
To muffled whispers - stays,
Spreads her shawl of quiet
Till memory records no detail,
Nothing but herself.
Seven pearls robbed
Ceramic contrivances replete
with squatter rights
entombing deep necrosis
for an Oscar appearance
staged and blanched
choreographed photoshoppery
of Cheshire cats
faux poses and grins
for psychedelic strobes
beneath neon footlights
and synchronised clatter
of frenzied palms
rhythmic and rigid
Politburo manoeuvres.
Counterfeit smiles
Insipid hellos
Crossing paths
Destination known
Nobody has names
Just competing clothes
Glaring past glances
A forlorn flow
Stumbling off sidewalk
Onto crumbling street
Yet another sidewalk
Heads without feet
Lost to crowds
Blanched in between
Ponderous pedestrians
Rising steam
Tethered tomorrows
Skyscraper seams
Falling faces
Concrete dreams
Cinnabar remittance ailerons squall federal cobblestones. Lank alpine squint modest. Nectarine grimace, cloys toothsome.
Coiffure chain rod composure anemic, primogeniture Swedish cotton murk optics
Rodeo riding maiden broadcaster network metaverse falconry. Boreal voyages legalese.
Simper treacle blanched anecdotally. Goofy balm, beardless tease, healthy as a horse, real bee knees.
Some pain is beautiful
But not this pain.
This pain is ugly
Bleak bone blanched white.
Have you ever endured an ugly Pain?
It has no recompense
And comes with no redemption
It is a loop that continuously eats it's tail
It's not pretty
But it will change you
And you will be changed
Because ugly Pain is ugly
But ugly Pain is fierce
And the ugly Pain has made me strong
But It has also made me weak.
i reach to you
across spans of sea
my feathered touch
a gust of wind
bowing down
beneath
tips of waves
flushed
from setting sun
trickled tears
gathered in the froth
flow back to me
in trails of pain
etched of distance
i cannot elide
the salty mist
of your eyes
as i cry back
in whispered echoes
along the edges
of blanched shores
September 1. 2019
more muse scribbles inspired by CayCay's comment to my poem
The arrows at
The crossroads
Offered naught
But the truth of
All the answers
I had sought
They were blanched by hope’s long faded sun
The meaning of the words too long undone
choices that they said should never be made
start anew
walk alone
in shade,
separated
fearless
unafraid
I looked
Upon the
arrow’s->
rotting shaft
as I passed
I swear the
Ravens laughed
9/22/2021
CROSSROADS Poetry Contest
Bush: she had a deep
black birds nest.
Fecund Arabic woman
dark peaches for thin lips.
White faced, I redden in the sun,
a blanched fig, a thirst
for dew drops.
One night is enough, maybe two,
there must be a Spanish guitar
pleading the stars for more tears.
I have a comb
for her oval waves,
she is, for a while,
the mother of the world
the secreting seeds
of a fruiting pomegranate.
I am her despoiler of silk sheets,
she, a font of arousal
baptizing a love-song.
Oh that love could spread like hate,
like wildfire in a sun blanched field,
but love is patient.
Evil can force its way,
but love is kind.
Oh that love might shout its merits in the street,
but love is not proud.
Hatred seems triumphant for a season,
but love never fails.
Oh that love would fall
like rain on the thirsty ground
and gently heal this cursed world
of all her jagged, painful wounds.
Oh that Love would reign!
February 22, 2021
*1 Corinthians 13:4-8