Short Callow Poems
Short Callow Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Callow by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Callow by length and keyword.
Youth
fledgling, callow
generation rising, aging, accepting
cars, jobs, regrets, pains
secluding, denying, resenting
tolerating, unaccepting
adulthood
FORGOTTEN:
callow youth
literacy learnt
a remote childhood
dark nights at play:
meadow flowers
hooters and the
school bell
bonfires
snowball fights
rusty bikes...
As the bark of fear ascends
callow pages crease
illustrating a youthful doxy
abreast a sheet of smoke
waltzing betwixt velveteen lips
as if tomorrow’s mistakes
mattered yesterday
There was a craze not long ago
A kind of country pursuit
A sport known as cow tipping
Perpetrated by callow youth
Now due to the recession
There is a new craze to report
A rural epidemic, fly tipping
It’s popular but not much of a sport
Form:
your melting mouth, quite coyly callow
softer and sweet, as pink marshmallow
oh love, a rapture tends your scheming
upon those lips, so drips my dreaming.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, October 17, 2022
Storm
Dethroned beggar of a borrowed callow mystery
Heaves a lightning staff into the waves -
Thunderous and raw clandestine secrecy
On luminous swirling ariels sheering the celestial
12-2-20
Liberum Divisa 3
Sponsor: Gregory Barden
Taken from The Tempest
Alacrity, bestows the sorrowful or does mirth elate the callow and fair the damsel is distressed but love is oft fair, fairly gamed and sore about the heart, the festival of anxiety is artless until we part, so like amiable laughter this next of crooning despair a yolk of sullen glee like vampiric sunken lairs.
As a child when you told me the wild
Tales of the hatred in the world,
The lust in the male body,
And the lack of concern for each other,
My callow soul did not flicker
To realize that not every candle
Was wrapped with the same type
Of wax—as we age the wick moisturizes,
Burns less brightly, and the wax
Perpetually too hot to hold.
I love you, my son
Simple, wayward, spinning complacency
Father loving deeply, inside his mind
He guides me to a boil, scared, scarred
This messy pot of scalding loving scorn
Bubbling for recognition, a job well done
The innocence inoculates him
I dreamt I was you, I was
A callow young man, as you become me
As I became you
Sunlight shrouded in stormy clouds
Innocence all too fleeting
Callow trust hardens bitter but wise
Sunlight shrouded in stormy clouds
Fools blinded by love don't see the lies
As we embrace life, naivete' dies
Sunlight shrouded in stormy clouds
Innocence all too fleeting
Written 1/17/22
First Place Winner
A BRIAN STRAND (1075) CONTEST
2/16/22
Why do you still chat
With that Common Rats?
As blind as A Bat;
A Gathering Fat?
Yes, I’m dead upset
And for Bad Fight set.
Would for A Gossip
Who lets his lips slip
Where had Poor Chloe stashed
The money she cashed
That could widen eyes
And trigger Wish Cries…
I know A Callow:
At theft who’s shallow;
The idea A Brow
Would never allow.
Casually callow
superficial and shallow
this young media fellow.
Lordly and light
trivial and trite,he sat
filling the moment with tat.
Sketchily slight
meekly absorbing
every sound bite.
Clips so neat
in endless repeat the spin
with an endless grin.
In-depth review so lacking
as instant opinions abound
impartiality missing unfound.
A shimmer of snow and earth begins to blow
dear old winter is here again with glitter glint and light
Beneath a frozen sky of wander Earth begins to glow.
Two painted wings of white,
Angels here, to liquidize the night
As we gather at their breast
we untrained and callow,
learn that seasons will be seasons, best enjoy the Sleigh Ride!
Dust from the past, layered in youths callow
Desperate to be forgiven, for sins committed
Wrongs done in ignorance should be omitted
Dust from the past, covers the shallow
Fear of failure, insecure self worth
Heat needs to rise from this emotional hearth
Dust from the past, it casts a shadow
Anxious to wash it away, make it clean
Start over, be clearly seen
To late...
Written: April 29, 2026, for contest Sponsored by: Charles Messina
*******************
Silken buds bloom
Tender winds loom
Vivid birds zoom
Callow hills rise
Cloudless blue skies
New sparkle sighs
Pinkish blooms sway
Golden bees play
Sunny crowns day
Breezy rains fall
Slender seeds call
Springtime warms all
You can see Shane its a callow,
Not for the Business of Tallow;
Some Brain to be lying fallow,
Nothing in Tallow yields Halo...
Better Shane challenged A Solo,
A lot of fans to him follow,
Preferably in 's polo,
Never in poverty wallow...
Yes, Sandy - haired Shane Wayne for Rap
And I suggest Distance from Cap
For more of on - the - shoulder tap
And bridge of Admirer's Gap.
Jagged fragments of a puerile chorus compose my fledgling thoughts.
Each shrill shard impales my soul with piercing slivers of childish inflections.
Looped refrains of callow mantras whorl my mind in endless rounds.
tantrumed harmonies,
sung upon a splintered stage…
my inner children
old words tremble on callow lips
pinched off like poison from a rose
and dripped upon the breeze ...
your breath mixed with morning's
stirred with my own, like honeyed chai
yet spiced with argument ... rehashed
Written and submitted on May 27, 2020
For the "Hexastitch It" Poetry Contest
Nette Onclaud, Sponsor.
( Syllables = 8, 8, 6, 6, 8, 8, counted at HowManySyllables.com )
With vision diffuse and fragile frame,
These, the twilight years commence,
Yet arms to hold each other close
Seem no less fierce, less intense.
What smacked of callow rapidity,
The rush of youth and virgin bud,
Is mellowed, matured throughout the span
Of decades steeping in the blood.
The two of us in sunset swathe,
As now, these twilight years enfold,
Together we endure and sense
The perfect love in growing old.
Somehow a scene from girlhood days
Will flit across my hazy mind;
To lead me down enchanting ways
I thought I had once left behind
Of Grandma's touch… so sweet and kind.
Her garden floats on dappled stream
Where trees callow burst into leaf,
Our hands gather the blooms, agleam
Which paint a view though spring turns brief--
Yet in my heart… I find relief.
English Quintain Contest
Sponsor: Janice Canerdy
Re-submitted 7/19/2017
Sanmati, my guide, though is callow
Abnormal not in knowledge, not a bozo.
Negotiates well joy broad or narrow;
Merry as a lamb, sharp as an arrow –
Agile as a gymnast, as sweet as a cello.
Time and again found, never let her gizmo,
Ignoring angry love or any strict credo
Jib her down to cry and sit quietly in shadow.
Almighty will design her future like dido
Illuminating the world with skills and less ego.
Never be dull or extra-ordinary – no one follow.
Bellow, snarl and luster
listen to the mighty roar
of crimson green and mellow beam
and crook and flame and muster. We cluster
drawn to creaky oak and misty morn and poplar,
birch and cedar, smell of mead and mighty kings of Tudor.
With tender hook and sneaky nook on boards
of stoutly temper, old embroidered drift
of thread, ethereal chill of ender.
Lord and Sir and minister stir
in air of artful whisper, mure
of heart in boastful court
callow, bard and jester.
The serenade
of dancing chimes,
echoes in the breeze
of July.
From a distance,
linger the carols:
of kookaburras
and gentledrones.
In the meadows paved
of callow blossoms,
bunnies canter
like summer snowballs.
Flutterbies woo
each crimson leaf,
sneaking pollens in pockets
like naughty imps.
“Ah, this is the life.”
I manage to say,
as my lips experience
earl grey.
With that, I perch
on the wicker chair,
and savor the wedding
of cinnamon and pears.
In memories that i hold dear,
As callow youth unfazed by fear.
Those carefree days so long ago,
My leap of faith, rash bravado
Emboldened by the atmosphere.
A photograph, my souvenir
A silhouette from yesteryear.
Recalling twilights sunset glow.
In memories.
As i look back, pastimes seem clear.
In thoughts once more i do appear,
Free falling to the waves below.
Exhilarating feelings flow
As voices from the cliff top cheer.
In memories.
Picture number 3.
8/ 15/ 2018.
What is this meeting of the minds?
Our callow Sarah’s been seduced.
Love must triumph
an heir in fact is introduced.
What is this meeting of the minds
while Sarah sits in shame?
It is not love!
I will not risk this life with him.
What is this meeting of the minds?
So wait I must.
And wait I will,
in time, perhaps, love will become.
Love Will Triumph
a painting by Charles Haigh Wood
http://www.artnet.com/artists/charles-haigh-wood/love-will-triumph-V1MNNn9G40lY6aWV4wb5Ig2