Short Blow Me Down Poems
Short Blow Me Down Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Blow Me Down by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Blow Me Down by length and keyword.
Well blow me down, miracles still happen
Life is still made of pure silk and satin
A really big surprise
If our outlook is high
Unless by chance, a bunch of poop you walk in
A sailor who loved costume parties
would shout out a wild, “Aye, me hearties!”
This old buccaneer,
role playing with cheer,
got mimicked by all the young smarties.
April 14, 2019
entered in Tania Kitchin's Pirate Themed Poetry Contest Placed third
Whisper, whisper goes the wind,
Ruffling though my leaves.
I will not let him blow me down,
I’ll proudly bend with the breeze!
Drip, drip, goes the rain,
As it falls right through my branches!
I quietly let it slide right down my trunk,
And run into the ditches.
Who has seen the wind?
Well, blow me down.
Blow me right down.
I mean it is cold, really cold
Then there’s the wind.
The damned cold wind.
Wind chill, wind chill
Damn it.
It scrapes your cheeks.
Ices your ears.
Numbs your fingers
Chills your legs.
Freezes your feet.
I have seen the wind and the answer is:
Central heating.
You’re ninety two, well blow me down
I never would have guessed
You look so young and sprightly
And seem so full of zest
You’ve got your hair, its all your own
Your teeth are yours, not false
The way you talk, it’s obvious
Your mind’s intact, of course
What’s that you say, I’m sorry
Sometimes I can’t quite hear
It’s fifty two, not ninety
My word you do look *****
© John W Fenn 22-05-2009
You fill me with hope then storms blow me down
When I smile you create happy into a frown
Promises of being a father, sadly I believed you
Back to square one i'm alone deja vu
Called me a parasite to crawl somewhere away
Scum and digusting is something else you say
Called me ugly and stupid for those years
Th cruelness won't reduce me to anymore tears
I hate you, detest you and us forever to be apart
Decision final daddy, you have no place in my heart
Oh, dear, what can the matter be?
Who’s that knocking on my door
again—and again—and again
on this day of all days?
Well, blow me down!
She’s back, the part-time poet--
confused, singin’ in the rain!
I stand here
mindful of the past and its lessons.
Baby Face, what’s you thinking?
STOP! Please don’t say that!
Susie, please stop talking.
Hello—Goodbye.
Good riddance!
July 5, 2019, entered in Charles Messina's Collaboration of Your Titles
Poetry Contest