Short Bodes Poems

Dead armadillo on the road
It bodes unwell 
Two vultures attending...

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intellect expands, heart becomes narrow ~
it bodes not well, for a rosy morrow...

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True friendship is of two Souls, only bodes are different














Dedicated to my lovely friend: Harry...

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Driving down withered roads,
Off in the pond sing the toads,
My heart races as I turn to the left,
In goes the car, the pond will collect,
My car, myself, and other bodes...

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our bodes meet
and in the press
i feel every curve
every muscle
intertwines 
my lips
meet her neck
she is redefined
i look up
yea she likes me
puase
is it really that easy...

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Faint-hearted lass, are you where
Your dreams have placed you?
Not as yet? Not even close
In that otherwise camatose
Wakefulness, Day goads?

Then to this fine sleeper's creed
Are not living true:
"Fear not, nightly wise, as far
What unto The Morning Star. *
New day, new life bodes.

* Venus. Planet of Love...

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Another year, many days
  ever striving, we look for ways

Marriage vows that didn't tear
  two hears lifted from despair

A hand locked tight within another
  one sister trusted little brother

Ears that secrets lay between
  never told, kept their sheen

If even one of these above is true
  ~ the way bodes well for 5782...

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Farquhar, a posh name
That's what it sounds like to me
Lords and other Nobles
Would grace this family tree

You can't help saying it
With much pride and panache
It certainly bodes better
Than Brown or Smith or Nash

I could go on forever
Quoting superlatives galore
I first saw this impressive name
Over a Scotsman's shop door!...

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Whilst seated upon the commode,
An astronomer, Johann Elert Bode
Found a celestial law
Which had nary a flaw
Which he phrased in the form of an ode.

Each planet you see is removed from the sun
By a distance twice farther than the preceding one
Not a half, I lament
Not three hundred percent
But just twice! (Now isn't this fun?)...

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all those moments when we laughed
and those moments when we cried
then that time i slipped away 
and then that time i tried to die
then that time i  took the cut
and then that time i missed the vein'all those time that ive messed up
are driving me insane
i just cant tale it anymore 
i just cant tale the pain
my bodes cold and on the floor
just dig an early grave.......

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Are butterfly wing movements in Brazil the nexus
That creates our terrible tornados in Texas?
Though we may not understand the how and the why,
We should remember our words can make children cry.
Before broadcasting our gossip far across fences,
Shouldn’t we first consider its consequences?
A man may not know a woman’s complexus
Until casual banter with her bodes sexist.
...

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Grandpa ever vigilant, but not necessary because the neighborhood is now at peace. To look upon them, is to imagine a peacock displaying her tail, and all it’s glorious kaleidoscope of colors. They are still young, still innocent, still only play and having fun occupy their minds now. If grandpa and parents continue to build a foundation of security and trust, it bodes well for their future, in this uncertain world....

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Luminous is the flame, 
Olympic Games need no fame.
Nations standing by to compete
Dauntless athletes refusing defeat,
Obsession with metals is growing,
Nagging coaches are shouting.
Omission is a threat
Luck is everyone’s bet 
Yearning is a drive that keeps,
Pushing all for feats.
Iconic is the city of 2012,
Calling for its trophies to shelve 
Summer bodes well for every winner of gold. 



© Atef Atyaoui
19/07/2012...

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Regrets

Antagonisms perceived
Leave us aggrieved
Hearts broken
Tender spirits token

Words miss-read
Actions miss-lead
Clamors in the night
Pleading miss-sight

Sides taken
Lines shaken
Blindness bodes
Heavier loads

Rashness steps
Action’s regrets
Unthinking eyes
When misery cries

Matters adrift
Sieve and sift
Love enduring
Pardons ensuing

Antagonisms perceived
Leave us aggrieved
Hearts broken
Tender spirits token...

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Good morning sunshine, time to rise 
Now wipe the sleep out of your eyes
The day has dawned to start anew
I hope today bodes well for you 
I'm looking forward to tonight 
Where I will bask under your light
And hear the angel stand and sing 
Her voice the scent of early spring
Its beauty of eternal worth
Worth more than anything here on earth 
And you wonder what it does for me?
It's the reason I write poetry...

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In swirling mist, I inch along the roads,
There are no passengers aboard the coach;
This is no night for driving heavy loads.
The headlights full to warn of my approach,
My scalp is prickling: wonder what this bodes
(My instincts always prove beyond reproach).
And then dismembered hairy hands appear;
An evil laugh the last thing that I hear…

* based on a local legend

Jack Horne, 24th August, for Nette’s Through the Mist contest...

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