Short Burnish Poems
Short Burnish Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Burnish by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Burnish by length and keyword.
Sparkle
to opals do they lend
shine
to emeralds they offend
exude
the missive they can send
glow
despair they often mend
burnish
surpass and do not bend
heal
put right before the end
Damsel in
distress
Virtue
to redress
Reputation
scorned
Honor
most forlorn
On the field
we face
Lances
and a mace
Blood to burnish
clean
Lies
— that death redeems
(Rhymes From The Nursery: February, 2026)
A moment (Tanka)
Rain as wet silk falls
On a rosebush which burnish
Until gray sky smiles.
And there is golden sunlight
On my cottage whitewashed walls.
Haiku
Stillness of soft rain
Dogs sleep in haylofts and sheds
Dream of hunting boars
I believe that a good deed never dies.
Once performed, it is not fated
to fall to the ground and wither.
Instead, like gold leaf, it is gently applied
as a burnish, to gild the walls of heaven,
its light shining in us, like an ember
that glows when kissed by the breath of memory.
We may never take the languid road
and play beneath the purple moon
or sing in the shadows of the cool blue sea
and crush the sky with our bare feet
We may never hold all our hopes in one hand
or dance without gravity's kiss on our lips
but as long as we burnish each other's spark
We'll breathe and ignite symbiotic hearts...
I have earrings shaped like acorns
And I poked them through my ears
As a welcome to this season
And my joy when it appears.
Though the leaves have yet to burnish
I await those golden hues,
For to live without those ochres
Is an option I’d refuse.
There’s a nip there in the morning;
Time to drag the sweaters out
For the crispness and the colors
Are what autumn’s all about.
“Better to burn out than fade away”
Indifferent complicated muster fading
Still the better just to fade, I say:
Observe the final glimmer glowing
Dissipated TV figures into silence vanish
Pushed away like breath the slim existence
Still most appear on vapors final blow
Leaving body burden burnish badly
So the living languish winding woe
Quotation attributed to Neil Young
Bite this flesh of yellow burnish,
Suck deep of citrus and see, if
The beauty of the textured surface
Can be endured in reality.
Screwed up eyes and peeling lips,
The tremored hiss of breath, inhaled
As shudders rattle bones,
A chill, a shadow cast of death,
Yet look again, and beauty hungers,
Invites, beguiles, begs for this, unquestioned
Love devoted and purblind,
Embittered by Lucretia kiss.
With invisible ink you have written
your name upon me like a spring flourish
of flowers budding anew each morning
to remind love is a fragrant ribbon
binding together the ones we cherish,
and thus you have never left me yearning.
You are a thread writing the tapestry
of beauty that life will softly burnish
as love flows and is endlessly warming
our hearts, world and infinite galaxy~
forever transforming.
Subjects can their Bad Kings banish:
Their Lords that image tarnish
By being decisive and mannish
While proving them a clannish
After bribing schnapps of the Danish
And deceiving wine the Spanish!
Subjects must the details furnish
Of the wrongs by Monarchs to banish
And if they wish some garnish
Or the entire narrative varnish!
Subjects should Terrible Kings punish
Their faults ceases to burnish
Their eulogy for The–Without–Blemish.
Autumn, the burnish of her hair
Trapped devil flecks of pitchfork red,
Cascading shades of setting suns
Billowing on the satin bed.
Lithe puma she stretches,
Lissom flesh as fluid milk,
In the scarlet of her parting lips,
In the rust motes of her eyes,
In the pallor of her cherished skin,
Sex and sweetness symbolise.
Red as the bleed of Shepard clouds
Burning the twilight fields,
Autumn, the burnish of her hair,
Beauty, her yield of yields.
Town planners would us astonish,
When they rocks and hills demolish,
So as to new cities polish,
Their smart dwellers make less foolish
And it all turns out Bad Rubbish;
Reason to them all admonish
And Town Planning just abolish…
Town planners should themselves furnish
With what would a terrain burnish,
Not sensitive eyeballs punish;
Town planners watched by all eyes
Can’t afford to be that unwise.
As they neighborhoods garnish,
Their image sadly tarnish.
In translucent silence
sapphire-capped minarets
stand like ardent rose buds
under glint of a firefly moon.
Gone are birds of day
like ruby breasted dawn
spilling ashes of roses
on a saffron horizon,
rhododendrons and azaleas floating
up high to burnish
the mosque's ghosted towers.
Through night's brisk lapis
the hushed teal dome bides
wafting apple breezes
as walls and turrets lumber,
shielding the tiled plaza
until morning steeps the landscape
in the aura of peacocks.