Short Cahoots Poems
Short Cahoots Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Cahoots by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Cahoots by length and keyword.
The new-fallen snow looks so lush
As it silences us with a hush;
But the tires and the boots
Seem to be in cahoots
Turning all of that beauty to slush!
.
There once was a lawyer on the hook
For being in cahoots with the crook
The crook was set free
By making a plea
But the lawyer was hit by the book
.
I'm the king of the ball in my Christian Dior pantsuit
With accessories by Donald and Goofy in cahoots
Not a well known fact
Their designs fill the racks
Of poets and poetesses here on the Soup
As we breathed, we stood apart,
Rocks fall, our world crumbling...
I feel trapped like a conjuring charm...
Loving you is an existence...
Losing you is a solicitous ardent.
A prick in my breath is our amulet,
Inlet borders our souls, my starlet...
As we died, we stood in cahoots.
haibun
her heart's overwhelmed
as her Valentine returns
from Afghanistan
In cahoots with the local mailman, Airman Louis Patrillos hides out-of-sight as the postman returns the special valentine his wife had sent him. Then quickly Lou appears, announcing, "Honey, I'm Home!" just as she bursts into tears.
tremble
shake; tremors make men
out of boys-
reality out of toys.
thrown back head
in cahoots- the dead-
the monster (fed).
cold, frozen
feelings,
kneeling in fabricated
faith;
destruction, demolition,
taste buds silenced
by satisfaction
of such-
touched by divinity,
insanity, sanitized
of truths--------
(they've goofed)
Sky winks at the sandy Florida beach
In cahoots with the colder waves
Sun slipping out of this hemisphere
Gleeful laughter of chasing children
It has been a glorious day,
I stare at the sky, is she a premonition?
She gives nothing away,
Allowing my imagination to surmise…
Will this be the best day ever?
In my lifetime?
Possibly.
Chub wears a miniature Santa Suit
Within the circle, he is in cahoots
With several friends, they know what to do
They tell on each other and themselves too
He is standing on a snail. Isn’t that bad?
He is reaching too far, does that make you mad?
He is doing the wrong thing again, irritating me.
I finally have to turn away from Chubs, so I can be free.
BUGS!HAVE BUGS,THAT ALSO HAVE BUGS.
WITH KIN AND HISTORIES SELDOMLY DUG.
WITH HAMMERS AND CHISSELS WRONGFULLY USED.
AND COPYCAT FAILURES ALL BEING CONFUSED.
STEP FORWARD THE CRUSHING FOOT.
THE UNKNOWING TORTURORS ARE IN CAHOOTS.
INBORN SURVIVORS ARE BLESSED PROOF.
ONE SINGLE BUGS ENOGH TO MOVE.
THOUGH ALL THE MIGHTY THUNDER OVERHEAD.
A BUG IS SAFELY IN ITS OWN DOMAIN...in bed!
Sixty-seven cats marched on Central Avenue Today
In the rain, for it is April, so hey, hey, hey
They had a mission, wanting kibbles and bits.
Some of them were demanding in spurts and spits.
There was hissing and stomping in yellow boots.
These cats were an army, in strong cahoots.
We New Yorkers were intimidated wildly today.
Cats of Central Avenue are serious and here to stay.
I gaze a stalky single-helix cradle,
Squished so in seemingly hydrous blue cover,
Attracts square substantial planes in a bundle.
I embrace now feather's mass helve to ladle
Psychic portraits siphon to it in wander.
My fist fiddles as it scribbles on oodles.
Cuts of a suckling tree, soil, river fondle
Paper, pen, poet in cahoots as lovers
Rupture of a skeptic smug gnostic noodle
Form:
NO ANCHOR FOR RANCOUR
It’s loose, upset, resentful and bitter
And seeking solace, it’s not a quitter
Nowhere to stop and put down roots
And with burning rage it’s in cahoots
Maybe this grievance will never end
And into madness may just descend
It was a flame, now a burning ember
Such an insult one has to remember
Revenge will be the solemn pledge
As it smiles and sharpens the edge
It’s rained ‘most every day this week –
Good news for all the flowers.
We can’t complain, ‘cause weather’s whims
Are not within our powers.
Umbrella sellers have been pleased
And stores which peddle boots;
Perhaps they and the weather gods
Have labored in cahoots.
I’ve stepped in puddles more like lakes
And dripped from each extremity;
For keeping dry, it seems like
Staying home’s the only remedy.
There is a Poe and raven no one knew
They were deeply in cahoots, these two
Telltale heart was unknown by Poe
But raven had a mind of glow
His ideas were stolen by his master
Poe’s mind was slick like alabaster
In the night he would urge raven awake
For his own sake, for his own sake
For raven was the brilliant poet in fact
Few know this, but I found an artifact
A diary of raven that holds the truth of this
Poe stole raven’s ideas, knowing they were bliss