Short Brutes Poems

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


Premium Member rights come with borders

An act-as-they-wish guarantee
Leads brutes to think they’ll tread on me
But I too have rights
And might eschew fights
If backed by a fair referee
Form: Limerick


City's; And Its Environ's

A lovely view - overflown!
Spared of, and safely
All violent-sounding tempests.
Spoiling sidewalks' hush.

The most restful - to a bird!
That high! That aloof!
All sentiment towards brutes
As can aside brush.
Form: Rhyme

Brutes

The doors are closed to those who need most that which is inside.
The palms hurt, The slamming, the banging, no easy knocking.
When it has finally opened to those who were once calm and gentle,
They enter being brutes.

Blossom Monyei the Bleeding Pen.

Premium Member Shallow Breath-

Shall I see the burden take how can it ever shake
Color me hue so hurt  sadden and blue
Half lies so trues seldom denials
Closed minds Open Hearts
Colors of truths duty bound awaken by  brutes 
Shall I see harvesting absolutes planning the truth
Shallow breath~
Form: Rhyme

Far Place

Time is a tunnel of fears,
Funneling years
Down a spiral of darkening dread
Twisting ahead.

Somewhere the passage ends,
After it bends
Millions of labyrinthine turns:
Somewhere Man learns.

Somewhere and someplace we find
We’ve been but blind
Burrowing brutes in the devil’s night,
Shunning Christ’s light.
© Steve Eng  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Verse


Brutes Shine Knives

Brutes shine knives in hallways sleeping out of corners of heart-beats racing the fear of 
death is a shadow with pale eyes darkness is silence who are you to judge whistling in 
dimly lit alleyways stray cats smash trash-cans your breath leaps into the morning when 
all is too quiet wooden doors pause gleaming numbers brass tarnished faith hangs by a
© Alex Roth  Create an image from this poem.

A Young Boy's Scary Walk Through a Dark Woods At Night

Although I’m late, my pace is slow
The woods are dark, my path to go.
Each sound, a host of unseen brutes
That lurk amongst the tangled roots
Of trees that line my pitch-black route.
I want to scream, I want to shout
And yet a light, though faint ahead
A beacon to my waiting bed
Soon steps through welcome bolstered door
Assure me that I’m safe once more
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Whoot Dun It

Written By Gail DeBole

There once was an owl whose loud hoot
Could frighten the fiercest of brutes.
A "whoo-t" of renown
Sent birds circling the town
To find out who did what when to whoo-t!

Note: Illustrated in the following two coloring books available on Amazon.com and other retail websites: Coloring within the Limericks and Coloring within the Animal Limericks
Form: Limerick

Saint Fermin's Flirt

On bovine hooves death thunders near
Along Pamplona cobblestones:
Fleet, snorting brutes with thrashing horns
Enrich my life through coursing fear.

My frantic sprint lends throbbing heart
As death stampedes on bovine hooves;
One slip, a fall, could spell my doom—
True love for life does dread impart!



December 6, 2016
Flirt Poetry Contest
Lewis Raynes, Sponsor
© David Bose  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

To the Honour of This Page

Bleating 
Whisps,
Chattering 
Papyruses,
See as they 
wave their 
Happy 
hands 
to you and 
the wind,
Swerving 
in 
consortium 
to my Jazz 
and Waltz,
Aha! 
waltzing it 
by the 
rushes.. 
Their 
Brushes,
Are they 
Belles or 
Gents,
Are these 
ones Fellas 
or Brutes,
The good 
guy or 
your comic 
villian,
To Egypt, 
Paper and 
This Salient 
Page.
Selah
Form: Ballad

Solace

The bright tint,
Of the beaming sun,
Recklessly, hapazardly,
Settling, scattering itself,
Through the bounty of nature,
The thick deep dark woods,
Furnishing the brutes,
The Brookes,
With eternal Sunbeam,
And solace;
The minute lithics and mighty beasts,
Laying in the Haven,
In sheer consolation,
Fearless,
Unconscious,
Heedless,
To even fathom life's unforseen perpetual occurances

Sunday Soldiers

Sunday soldiers march down
march upon frozen ground.
Cavalier brutes mighty wall
winter warriors standing tall.

Gladiators battling in rain
battle for yards to gain.
Pursuit of righteous might
pursue weakened foes tonight.

Hesitant heroes final stand
finally swept from the land.
Defeated enemies fighting done
Conquerors glorious war is won.


(click on the pic to purchase my poetry book!)
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member A Vicious Pink

A flamboyance gathered at the lagoon.
Wading patiently for their briny food.
The sun arrived to gently wake the earth. 
A warmth commenced to break night's curse...
All was quiet until the blue troupe stealthily arrived.
With blood and devils in their eyes...
The stalk quickly evolved into chase.
For its the will of brutes to snap the neck of grace...
A baboon king proudly struts about,
pink feathers lining its vicious mouth.

Premium Member Magic Moon Boots

Magic moon boots Like walking on air Recent trail recruits Hopping over rocks Nimble on the roots Easy on the feet Not big heavy brutes Sporting some flair Maybe not with suits
---------- a Magic9, H/T to Melani Udaeta's Without a Trace for the form and a much better example Rhyme scheme is abacadaba, no constraints on syllables or meter Got some new Altra trail boots for hiking - pretty sweet!
© Jeff Kyser  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Other

Premium Member Pritzker's Purge

"Governor" Pritzker has a plan.
There will be no cash bail for the criminal clan.
The arsonist, murderer-kidnapper, and 
garden-variety brutes are in celebration.
From beyond his gated walls, he boasted 
that this will make citizens safer.

Pritzker has planted land mines in the community garden.
Innocents will be forced to do the weeding,
Lock and load, my friends. Pray if you must.
The purge begins on New Year's Day.



see {Safe-T act}

Blame the Snake

Blame the snake 
Who chose the break
and '11', to play its game
While '12' tended his fame.

Blame the snake 
Whose fruits ache
"a bite, little at stake.
With a bite, comes a break"

Blame the snake 
The serpent who spake 
Stuttering 11 to its bait 
"there, the fruits of fate"

Blame the snake
The gog who was baked
In all these fruits 
It kept all its brutes.

Blame the snake
and 11, she took the rake
Blame 12, who left his trait
and the fruits; tiers of man's fate.
Form: Rhyme

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace