Short Bleats Poems
Short Bleats Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Bleats by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Bleats by length and keyword.
a scarecrow smiles,
an infant sneers
a lion bleats,
a lamb growls
thieves chase the police,
pea-hens strut feathers n’ dance
everything is topsy-turvy~
in sync with the times!
This thunderous rain, for spite
Shocks on first hearing
Know the hour of it already
Will then be nearing.
Gently, all senses beguile.
Earth, child-like, renewed.
Bubbly flashes; bleats, as slick by.
As joyous pursued.
Don't call it a carry-on
It may not fit under a seat
Nor an overhead bin item
Loose -- it rattles, bleats and repeats
You might well ask airlines
Their fee for a walking cane...
Why, there's no charge at all; they're free
They're what? ~ Are airlines gone insane?
A lion roars, a mule brays
A lamb frolics, a horse neighs
A dog barks, a wolf howls
A snake hisses, a bear growls
A calf bleats, a rooster crows
A moose bellows, an ox lows
A turkey gobbles, a cow moos
A mosquito buzzes, a pigeon coos
A cat meows, a nightingale sings
An alarm clock rings ~ Dawn takes wing
The destructive arrows was shot into the air
And the air cracked and things fall apart.
The power sector dismantled ,and
The economy seized.
Humans are slaughtered in may ham
every where in the street by human goat.
Fowls are not seen street any more,
whilst the goats bleats no more .
the country has fallen into pieces
Who shall be our messiah in the long run
I was scolded for littering an orange peel.
I and this couch and an iguana melt.
I am longing for things to be more than real.
She blushes like a child in an autumn fog.
She bleats to scare winter from the ridge of her nostrils.
She grows like a berrypatch in moonlight, after the thaw.
He is my friend’s iguana there.
He looks comfy on the couch.
He only wants to feel good.
Listen to poem:
The little linger, the wee wee wait-a-while,
says it all wordlessly, unwieldy:
"The momentary pause is pregnant!"
with distinct possibilities of a bow-out clause.
I can see and smell the stench of doubt
as you look away,
breaking our eye-to-eye contact.
That tiny delay is your way of saying it,
without saying it in words.
You, the soothsayer-in-silence bleats:
"The momentary pause is pregnant!"
Listen!
Wake up, Wake up
You who slumber and sleep
Wake up
Return whence you came
Jarring, dissonant
The ram's horn bleats
thirty, forty, one-hundred
unencumbered blasts
A simple device, no frills
the breath of a ram
caught in a thicket
magnified through its horn
It is the voice of Abraham
The cry of Sarah
The breathing heart of Isaac
~ It is the cry of a Jew
The lion roars
while the lamb bleats.
He paces and prowls,
savoring the kill.
I would like to roar.
I hate this bleating.
I want to see them
quaking in fear.
I have not the claws
to rip and tear,
nor teeth to devour
the roaring lion.
So I must be wise
and follow the Shepherd
who slays the beast
and gives me rest.
I need not bleat
but praise the one
who causes the lion
to lie down by the lamb.
I saw God
Over a shattered mirror
Fragments of my mind
Echoes of spoken promises
I saw God again
In the depths of the pool
Crystal clear,ocean blue
Bubbles of the swimming pool
I did not see God
On the walls
Painted with the blood and tears of men
Adorned with the sacrifices of withered hands
I saw God
In the tears of a lamb
Innocence etched in his crushed eyes
Bleats of pain,of crushed pain
I saw God
But who is he?
a question was raised
but pure heart unfazed
forever tranquil
had relinquished will
and so the response
held in bliss beat sconce
was benign and kind
that souls be aligned
by feeling heartbeats
of unvoiced love bleats
making them soul’s own
and with love so hone
that boundaries blur
head and heart concur
aboard God’s bliss boat
in joyous free float
wherein the question
ego did mention
now takes a backseat
heeding pure love’s tweet
Numbers have a lasting smell
while figures have a taste
Shapes can make an ancient sound
whose feelings stay untraced
Intuition grants a wish
to those who rebegin
Dimension in the blackest hole
new dwarf stars from within
Counting up or counting down
deception stays the same
What you gain or what you lose
redundant in the game
Endings come and endings go
ephemerally despised
Until the sacrificial lamb
—bleats out the final lie
(Dreamsleep: January, 2023)