Short Bloodies Poems

Short Bloodies Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Bloodies by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Bloodies by length and keyword.


City Sunsets

Evenings what reddens
The outback's skied
Peace of parrot watches, bloodies
No such, hereabouts.

War, its effects as
Presageful of -
Across that, any bird one sees
"Angel of Death"! shouts.
Form: Rhyme


Hit the Mat

Rolling the punches
Using my hunches
Duck and dive
Trying to survive
Bombardment of blows
Bloodies my nose
Waiting for the bell
10 seconds from hell
Hit the mat
No more combat
There goes the bell
Saved from hell
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member At the Club

To be read in the voice of Thurston Howell, III
from "Gilligan's Island"

At the club
we drop Poetrysoup
premium memberships
like names
on a social calendar
Binky and Nadine
drink more Bloodies
than I have had tees
on the fairway
Their mansion
rages rococo
For minimalists
they really
are too much



6/1/17

Titanic Twins

Trip to the movies to see ship submerged,
Teasing and torment has been Friday's fare.
First an argument o’er who's to go first,
and not-so-nice nephew pulls brother’s hair.

In revenge, the other bloodies an arm;
loud wailing ensues from crocodile eyes.
It’s time to go home now, they’ve lost their charm.
Six-year old twins – a shipwreck, pint-size.
Form: Acrostic

Premium Member Severed Veins Bleed on Moon

Listen to poem:
Earth bloodies the moon
its face drowned in severed veins—
harangued in the sky
for all to see Sun's disdain
in being eclipsed usurped

The heavens lament,
scattering rust into dusk,
for the blood red burns
when what's seen is black and white—
space smeared with wrath set ablaze.

A blood moon warns us
every orbit has peril,
in being dethroned
by an unyielding eclipse,
tainting our shadow of self
Form: Tanka


Memorial Day

The flowers all are folded
We children used to wear,
The garlands that we molded
Are withered in our hair.

We’ve given up the battle
Of flowering the world,
We’d rather hear rifles rattle
And see red flags unfurled.

Soldier’s furloughs are better
Than children’s holidays
Though shrapnel-wounds are wetter
And redder, than bouquets.

For Mars returns and bloodies
The sky and sand beneath,
The summer rainfall muddies
The white cross and the wreath.
© Steve Eng  Create an image from this poem.
war
Form: Verse

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