Short Canoes Poems
Short Canoes Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Canoes by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Canoes by length and keyword.
Remember ; Mountain :
When Paiute canoes paddled :
Bygone many years
Inspired by Raul's Contest " Morning Ambience "
Canoes rock gently
under the waxing moon.
Black water ripples,
painting a beautiful scene
under the scented pines.
Glaring white lake stretches up to bushes’ shades.
Adirondack chairs and canoes align in grace.
March 26, 2023 11.37am
river is waist deep
ambience of lily pads
swings elephant trunks
multitude of rubbernecks
in dugout canoes; and me
1/31/2023
The graceful pine stood proud and tall
A huge silhouette by nightfall
Nearby the Indians' canoes moved swiftly through the streams
While the children slept and rode wild ponies in their dreams
The stars lit the silent shadowed plains
Pierced by shrill whistles of passing trains
it's a narrow river,
Flowing beneath
The dark patchesof
My soul
Oh I know
U can't traverse
Ur canoes will
Demolish in the
Cyclone of my
Censuring words..
Well,this river is
Not for you..
It just has the intention
To flow without any
tedious look
It just flows..
Like my eternal poem
In a quiet corner of the world
lies a village quite primitive
untouched by passing centuries
folks at liberty to live
Stress-free, without the burdens
of our frenzied society
No push to keep up with others
no talk of drink or drugs, just sobriety
No superstores or sports coupes
just rowboats and canoes
They hunt and fish for all their food
~ eat healthier than me or you
Poetry like a river
flows through the creative mind
of a poet.
He needs to know that he is not the only one
in the world, who floats up that river
in a canoe without a paddle.
Poetry flows through a poet's veins,
like a storm on a hot summer night.
Poetry like a river flows
over and over,
till it runs dry,
which it never will,
even if all the poets in their canoes die.
The river will always flow.
.2.13.2014.
Ramble Through a Birch Forest
the path is straight and narrow
not a rock in the way
birches as far as the eye can see
their trunks, like tall slender
asparagus stalks, reach skyward
their caps, leaves bunched
at the top like celery
I look at their white bark
imagining sweet birch beer
distilled or the sturdy canoes
dug out of tough trunks
I would like to stop
and ponder these things
but I must keep my date
with you
MORNING
The sun is bathing sea is scathing blazing tips of volcanoes
Gods are traipsing moon is fading on the rigs of cloud canoes
Mother nature in her stature gliding birds are praying sun
Poet is busy pen is easy poems are coming one by one
Sponsor Isaiah Zerbst
Contest Name Interlocking Rhyme
Mystical
Is this a land of make believe
A mystical land where one never leaves
Icicles made of magic crystals
An enchanting land so very blissful
Chocolate rivers with golden canoes
A peculiar little man wearing emerald shoes
Doves that sing, melodies of love
Wear golden rings as they fly above
Who’s the ruler of this mysterious land
It’s protector of qualities so very grand
I’m here to stay I will not say goodbye
I will live here until the day I die
Give me the horn to blow
The shores of sand and sun
While the birds sing and fly
The children run and jump
Give me the net to fish
The seas of the brave
While the canoes hoist their flags
The men drag their nets
Give me the tune for the African melody
The smoke of the fire are here
While the women prepare the catch
The family gathers by the fire side
Give me the coasts of Africa
The entrance of the love
While the mighty still stands
The people will mend the nets of peace
Is a limerick milk and rice?
It is in letter form.
Will a butterfly flutter by
as pastel petals fall?
Astronomers, the moon-starers,
Say, “Yay! Cat’s ecstasy!”
Do canoes that ply the oceans
show discretion in directions?
Be silent now, and listen still,
to bather’s pacing breaths.
The tall and solitary royalist reigns;
but, will he resign?
Hear the minstrel, Mr Silent,
make a testament and statement:
“This is a play on jumbling words:
it's Anagramalia!”
Beautiful Lake Marion
The Lake as Beautiful as the big blue sky
Sits welcoming
The sun beams in and wakes people in the mornings
When they wake they get right to their activities
Kayak and Canoes paddle around
While swimmers’ heads pop up in the wavy blue water.
Feet bounce on the hot pavement the tires whir past the sweaty hoppers
The smell of smoke fills the air as marshmallows cook by the fire in late afternoon
The sound of waves fills the night air
People enjoy Lake Marion