Short Braiding Poems
Short Braiding Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Braiding by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Braiding by length and keyword.
There!
Look how far
A shooting star
Fades into day
Braiding its way
Across the midnight
Sky
SEARCHING for another night.
Starting dreams with you in mind
As my thoughts begin to wind
Themselves about,
Braiding lines of poetry
From unconscience realization,
Knitting mufflers of hope
From reassurance.
"golden light braiding branches"
fluid leaves cascade in avalanches
Quote: "golden light braiding branches"
Inspired by: Autumn Library, by Daniel Henry Rodgers (2025)
Third grader is braiding her hair in an elaborate way.
Not students are supposed to do on testing day.
I do not care, keeping my opinions about this test at bay.
Validity of this idiotic waste of time has plenty of frivolous fray.
After a-
good shower, moon was
braiding the clouds.
*
Dawn, December.
Recently washed trees getting ready
to drink the sun.
*
The dew drips.
I collect the elixir
to die again.
Satish Verma
Robin Wall Kimmerer is the creator of the blessing for today
(She’s also the author of ‘Braiding Sweetgrass’…by the way)
Her thought which, for us, is more of an allegory
When she says:
Maybe there is no such thing as rain;
there are only raindrops,
each with their own story
i used to
walk the
cornrows
shooting
mourning
doves as
they flew
out as
fast as
clay pigeons
now my eyes
are following
the cornrows
of her hair
from fore
head to
nape
like
following
a maze but
not wanting
to escape
so by
braiding
ex
tensions
ex
tend
my
stay
Form:
i used to
walk the
cornrows
shooting
mourning
doves as
they flew
out as
fast as
clay pigeons
now my eyes
are following
the cornrows
of her hair
from fore
head to
nape
like
following
a maze but
not wanting
to escape
so by
braiding
ex
tensions
ex
tending
my
stay
Form:
We were once rivers,
braiding through each other’s lives,
carving valleys of shared wonder.
Now we float in bubbles,
soft-walled sanctuaries of sameness,
drifting past one another
with eyes turned inward.
The more we seal our edges,
the less we feel the ripple,
of another’s breath.
Hoisting the bisexuality
on a figurine,
I crawl back to anxiety.
The primitive instinct
was taking over the stitches
on a snake.
What do you want from
a moon for the drooling
mouth of a seashell ?
Braiding the breasts
against gravity,
earth wants to defy the duality.
Satish Verma
Form:
Mourning tools
clasped, and woven
directing
nailed fine pointers
marking place
tapping tunes now
knitting lives and braiding hair
Birthing tools
glorious signs
passing words
keeping all time
patting cheeks
rubbing wet eyes
fingers steeple and crown me
Contest: The Crown of My Body -- A Whitney
Date: 6/18/12
In the hour when senile summer breathes her last,
The vim of her ego births a somnolent child.
Rising forth from the yawning pit of newness,
Dyed with shades of seasonal confetti,
Fall rises with a spectrumed diadem.
October reigns with a high degree of splendour,
Braiding strands of leaves with threads of gold.
As the night grows, dreams get more thicker
a storehouse of the subconscious mind
opens to reveal unknown secrets
braiding lurking fears, secret desires...
As the night grows, fantasy mushrooms
moon cradle or sinking in a chasm
waking happy or sad, depends on
mysteries revealed, as the night grows.
12.6.2020
plaiting my hair
tantamount to braiding three plastic slides
it is thick and unruly
with several minds of its own
determined to lash out in all directions
to prevent this catastrophe
when it gets long enough to ponytail
I put a rubber band around the ends
and use garden shears to lop off the length
sometimes breaking the shears
My sea aqua eyes, Your ataraxes,
tides that take You cool deep,
to where love be balm
upon heavy heaving breast...
I hold You when Night sparkles silent,
rose comb braiding Your hair,
You smile with satisfaction, calm sweet,
Unviolated by nightmares dark rude,
Your eyelashes ease soft,
My fingertips follow smooth beauty hue...
J.A.B.
Flaxen- haired maidens
frolic fresh meadows,
laughing and skipping
under a sparkling sun.
Their nimble fingers
weave daisy chains,
delicately braiding
wind tangled tresses.
Plucking on petals
a promise of love,
they clasp lily hands
chanting, circling.
With lips of pink roses
eyes of powder blue
skin of sweet jasmine
youth yearns to bloom.
MMC © 2011
Darkness swells like salty Black Sea
Ebony moods that tarnish a breeze
Pickled words and a soft sour smile
Really absurd how alone in a crowd
Energy zapped and perspective flawed
Soul feels trapped and sadly lost
Sunny songs traded for songs of moon
Indigo eyes braiding light cursing too
Onyx soul embracing painful feelings
Needing to know there is holy healing
Grandma sat in her rocker braiding her hair
Reciting Bible verses she had learned
I remember well the squeaking of the chair
Her words to me, I so resoundingly spurned.
She said, “You, son, you our minister will be,
Do not laugh, boy, for you will most surely see.”
True to her form the declaration came true
In spite of how much I wanted it not to.
written September 10, 2021
Precious raindrops tumble down
weaving nature's beaded gown
Lilting breezes stir the air
braiding Gaia's silver hair
Bees and warblers hum and sing
when the snow caps melt in spring
Diamond streamlets dance along
with their tinkling crystal song
Waterfalls in feathered white
cascade from their noble height
Winter's chains all fall away
leaving life to build the day
Remnants of Winters tendrils
reside upon the bare basalt cliffs.
Cornrows of ice cascade
washed by relentless rain.
Down pours the mana
of Spring, the Bride,
berating the laggard Winter;
expunging the beauty of ice.
The sunless muted morn aids
Winters grip on its crowning glory;
braiding wayward wisps of white
into crevasses.
The last, lingering, lustful
remainders of Winter.
The day before Spring begins.
Summer laid its fully taste
over flowers, over trees,
and a laden, heavy sky,
lingers on in mysteries.
Time has come for drunken clouds,
plunging in a turquoise sky,
driven by the autumn´s breath,
through the golden wheat and rye,
braiding early autumn´s wreath.
Trees are colouring their leaves,
summer birds will cease to sing,
and an early autumn breeze,
receives
messages of tales,
carried on a fuzzy wing.
teeth are overwhelmed with the
chew, the select few, braiding
tongues together, push me
over with a feather, i can smell
the nasty weather & i am
excited.
speedwalk down the path,
don't look back, the wrath of
the forbidden, unbidden joy,
broken toy, mismatched pieces
that never seem to fit.
bottomless pit, fall forever, never
worry, sever ties in a hurry,
accepted exception, convince
the reflection to leave me
alone.
Paws paddlewheel a roundness.
Mouth wide in the sluice, a sodden rudder
pushes sideways braiding a foaming wake.
Pond and dog orbit an ocular sky,
watery eyes memo the turning scene:
a bobbing hat floats beneath clouds,
a heron fishing over its stooping shadow,
a nodding woman upon a snorting horse,
a stroller, a mother,
an old man shaped like a walking stick.
The delirious dog bites a wave and sneezes,
while to-and-fro, a bobbing ball seductively,
turns his world.