Short Blare Poems
Short Blare Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Blare by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Blare by length and keyword.
I scream
It seems
He stares
I blare
Silk strands
How grand
Great web
Low ebb
I stood
Not good
Fly trap
Oh crap
Poor chap
Entrap
The sun's rays blare impatiently
a trumpet at my window
Their jars and jolts of dissonance
a workingman's overture's crescendo
Giants and grandeur, the paltry cannot bear
In their defamation, they will write and repair
Atop the high horse, they brag and blare
But end up lackeys stripped of flair!
Hear the lush beauty?
Cherry blossoms sing a song
the birds cannot sing.
Wake up lazy spring,
your daffodils are sprouting.
Hear their trumpets blare?
The green ivy sleeps
as winter comes to its end.
Melting snow wakes it.
Creation
slips off firm gyration,
Stark convulsions, wildly fluctuate.
Where fanatic zealots refuse to deviate
when the blare of trumpets finally obviate
any need for recourse for the dead?
Watch the moon, rusting red.
Feel the dread.
Form:
Bourbon Street's heart does beat.
Bars pouring forth pleas as
Bands drone in smoke filled rooms.
Brass and piano voice
Blare the heartfelt tone's tear.
Bare shackled souls lament,
Blues the voice of lost love.
Robert Gene Stoner Jr
10/16/2020
Pleiades
On a blue winter's moon
when all do sleep
The birds come out
dark night to greet
Then they climb
with gentle feet
On top of trees
wing and beak
To fill their lungs
with precious air
the voices blare
With all their might
the lonely birds
that sings at night
Robin Williams the first
of his lips humor would burst
he’d blare out Good morning Vietnam
Nanu Nanu a crazed madman I am
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Sponsored on March 23, 2019 for contest CELEBRITY OR FAMOUS PERSON CLERIHEW sponsored by TANIA KITCHIN - RANKED 3RD
Raw chilly days
skies all gray
Often get to me
In November and December
who can remember
The dreams that set us free
For trees are bare
and north winds blare
Hope's now out to sea
Whence whitecaps roll in
midst storm clouds' din
Mankind's struggle is to be
Donkey in the farm, strong hoofs romping
Wonky when you charm, long spoofs hooting
Donkey standing as you stare, shy when you dare
Teeth grinning as you glare, dry when you blare
Sweet and gentle that sire, donkey of your eye
Lifeguard under fire, wise and clean with your lye
Sudden eclipses blare
Thoughtlessness…thrombosis…
The only room opens and snakes drip
From broken windows as leaves hiss
Ghosts try to form bodies…turning…
Into the silent agony of madness shuffling
Into the wordless expression of immensity
Into the vivid darkness of coma black…
Tourists come
to take pictures
our lights no longer shine
foghorns no longer blare
yet we stand
stark white
against angry skies
memories flashing
over distant waters
tattered sailors drifting
through history’s shoals.
©12/16/2018
contest – Lighthouse Poetry Contest
sponsor – Eve Roper
Multi-legs frighten me!
Centipedes and spiders make me jump on a chair-
up I flee!
Each of them scores!
Creepy legs crawl, then run- huge scare
deplores!
Fear streams
as my lungs blare
screams!
Multi-legs frighten me!
Creepy legs crawl, then run- huge scare
screams!
M-ix not things up,
I-n a fight or dispute;
L-et all be in order,
A-llow not the brawl or bruit.
B-oisterous bluster and blare
R-uin the serenity;
A-im not to utter clamor,
C-all not attention raucously.
E-ngage not in contest,
R-age or anger must stop,
O-n the fifth of September, mix not things up.
whistles blare
gun powder in the air
lead pours overhead
I can't wait to feel my bed
I line up my rifle
breathe and squeeze
my orders are to strife
I run empty so I freeze
the quit nights are haunted
this conflict was unwanted
one more tally added; I can't mask it
make sure they spell it right on my casket
Clocks tick, pages turn, and pencils furiously inscribe notes; two more chapters.
The house is silent; earbuds blare.
And as the city sleeps, you refuse to conform.
Rest is for the weak; I go against the norm.
The only question is, as the sun retires and the moon clocks in, which will you choose,
Productivity or inferiority?
Jumped into the world of people seeking for care.
The seekers struggled more than they could bare.
That was when i decided to care.
Why take all with us , when we could share.
It needn't be monetary , just our presence there.
A sound inside me caused a blare,
all those sounds made me glare,
as a helping hand i should dare!
month
July
arrives in
style! On the 4th,
fireworks explode;
it's midday sun ablaze!
ice cream truck sirens blare and
neighborhood kids run out for treats.
summer swallows fly high in the sky.
hurray! 'tis time for fun and vacation!
A lot of sweat gives us pain.
The forest is likely to rain.
Tropical roundwood hugged in stain.
Fossil hydrocarbon and its contain.
People reject geological abstain.
In small patches, dioramas are aware.
Often, in the remote, we felt the stare.
Small-thicket Cantigi snare.
Small-scale landholders blare.
Gave us a nightmare!
Electricity crackles in the air
roller-coaster careening
off its track as silver trumpets blare
Gangs teem and thrive in jungles
from Africa to American streets
shells of bodies without heartbeats
Naked greed meets raw power
each devours the other
~ carcasses to recover
Christmas tidings boldly blare
Limp hands raise; taut lips flare
Minstrels and accordions pair
Rite, decorum forthrightly pare
Songs, instruments roundly declare
Strum the harp 'till spindly strings wear
Clang the cymbals revelry to share
Ring the bells no mirth we'll spare
Sing the melody a heartier fare
Loud your anthems fill the air
Today--
You rant,"oh boy! You too timid,
Ah! Clumsy like a sloth and white-liver'd
Like a mouse. . . Bad! Too bad!
Tomorrow --
You blare,"hush lad! You so unruly,
Oh! Obstinate like a mule and hot-head'd
Like a starved jackal . . . terrible!
So terrible!
(. . . repeatedly in the same pattern)
I don't care
For I know WHO I AM.
Pastoral Hymn
Formerly, one knew on sight the ones
who walked with economic purpose.
One had criteria: the color
of their robes, the meter
of their stroll, the semaphore of their
cosmetic blare.
One knew that night for them was dawn,
that night lit bright their signal.
Today, my pastor claims,
one must inquire of them all.
Donal Mahoney
Turn the music up
Let the sound blare
Watch as our problems fade away
As we get caught up in the beat
Listen to the rhythm flow
Hear the notes rise
No longer is there hurt or pain
As we set our volume on high
I will ignore hatred
I shall push aside anger
Just let my music play
Allow the audio to strike my soul
And don't even dare to turn my music down.
Night Lit Bright Their Signal
Formerly, one knew on sight the ones
who walked with economic purpose.
One had criteria: the color
of their robes, the meter
of their stroll, the semaphore of their
cosmetic blare.
One knew that night for them was dawn,
that night lit bright their signal.
Today, my pastor claims,
one must inquire of them all.
Donal Mahoney