Short Boomed Poems
Short Boomed Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Boomed by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Boomed by length and keyword.
"You hold Eternity in your hand!"
Boomed the ocean to the shore.
"For, in every grain of sand -
Is Earth's history for evermore! "
thunder-crack boomed -
the potent electricity
shrieking inside me
every neuron firing up
danger in one thunder-crack
6/14/2022
Bite Size Poem no.46
Spinsor:Line Gauthier
I watched amazed
You stood Afraid
I ran,
You ran,
For my life I feared
For your life you cared
I cried
You laughed
I watched
You dug
Lives were lost
You cared not
For fun
You scorned
We begged
For dawn
The way she had been used
The black and blue that bruised
The way she knew he was abused
This gave him no excuse
She said it was just the booze
Thsi was no news
The yells that boomed
She knew she was doomed
At least that's what she assumed
With a loud hoot it alerted, with resounding clangs it boomed
The people were informed, that it had arrived
A lot in its stomach it carried,from far away it transported
To the city it headed,when all at the station boarded
The Express Train was soon gone.
I had come through the night to be with him,
as rain, wild wind, and thunder boomed outside,
and removing my dripping coat,
I let my tangled raven wet hair fall . . .
he clasped my head to his beating heart,
as our tears came flowing down.
the
face of
my wife was
as dark as the
storm that raged and boomed
outside the drab motel
room . I stood at the window
observing the angry lightning,
thunder in my heart , knowing full well
for both of us , this was the end of love .
As thunder boomed and lightning flashed,
The rotting mansion seemed to speak;
The trembling pair, their eyes immense,
Began to shake with each new creak.
Decrepit timbers groaning then,
The pair agog, despite their boasts,
‘We have to stay and see it through.’
They couldn’t leave: they were its ghosts!
Into the woods crawled the brave wise men
Where the cannons boomed again and again
Screams and shouts as the shots did fly
And the trees thought they would die
Out of the woods crawled the brave wise men
Out of a thousand remained just ten
A lifetime seemed to have passed them by
And the trees they began to cry
Into the woods
Sponsored by Silent One
10/01/2019
So God asked me smugly, “How did you
find the life I fashioned one for you?”
“Not very colorful, Sire,” I decried.
“My wife was homely and dull
My kids, mediocre and drab
I slogged, I struggled feeling ever gray.
An uneventful life. Unconditionally normal.
Methinks, you did a gross injustice by me.”
“Oh, shut the … whining,” God boomed.
“Just go back and get a life!”
Lightning strafed
the carbon sky
with blazing spears
and monster fangs.
Deep thunder boomed
like cannon fire
and rent clouds
from dreamless rest.
The grey néphos
wept profuse
to see havens
gored.
On the bridge
a maiden cowered
her moggy cat
in tow.
Sail and mast
trembled, racked;
a bygone king
bowed to pray
tossed on waters
thrashing wild.
The tempest sighed
gagged.
We heard the voice
Of the talking anus
Beat like a light drum
Where saints were gathered.
But suddenly the stench hovered
And all hands drove close
To prevent the odour through the nose
Because the beats became filthy
All tones pitched a low key.
Everywhere boomed with bad odour
That shut every mouth like a door
At the noise of the anus that talked.
Even – the smell gave my pen
Inspiration to write this poem.
Way atop a Sycamore tree
a black bird’s call reiterates
his three syllable poetry.
Caw! Caw! Caw! The feathered poet
crowed. Caw! Caw! Caw! Came the verse
high up on the sycamore tree.
Caw! Caw! Caw! He vociferates
once more. His alliteration
and end rhymes, stressed in words of three.
Not to be outdone I sounded
my loud, lame three-word rendition.
Then from his branch he looked at me
And burst out with a loud guffaw
Caw! Caw! Caw! He boomed Caw! Caw! Caw!
Heralded by the sounds of guns
They came like an ill-wind
Sweeping towards our choices
we fled and upon return
Blood, blood every where was seen
The gun of thunder boomed
Onthe trunk of the toads
We were the toads
Whose choices sunk under-feet
our ballot boxes departed
With the servants of the masters
The lords of our time
Children sent by fathers to steal
We the the Nannies shall go mourning
For the truth has departed
Our choices have departed
The ballot boxes have gone
Form:
The cymbals clanged
The drum boom boomed.
The pickle lowed
While the violin tuned
The trumpets drowned
The sound of the drum.
The conductor frowned
And cried for Mum
The fiddler fiddled
With his bow
The flautist giggled
Until she could not blow
The pianist played
Melodious and sweet
The conductor prayed
As the musicians took their seat
As the conductor raised his baton with flare
Wondrous music filled the air
It was marvellous to see
The orchestra playing in harmony