Short Canteen Poems
Short Canteen Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Canteen by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Canteen by length and keyword.
Children are out for 'trick or treating'
Collect dollars for treats and eating
They would go to canteen
on the next of Halloween
Eating snacks they would be greeting
He was a frog who was really quite neat
while blowing his horn he'd tap his feet
zoot suit attire
his jazz was on fire
canteen frog couples couldn't help but leap
3-19-18
Summer parched my dried lips turning fastly into rocked salt
Grasping for the water I kept for a moment like this one here
My mouth seizes the droplets that remain in my canteen
I swam through a ocean of illusion
Dying of thirst
Going through the motions of confusion
Fearing the worst
I came upon her canteen
Seeking a cup of real
If for nothing else
A sip for my last meal
You left me holding an empty canteen
So I ran to you like a panicked stampede
But your fountain of love
Was all dried up
And my raindance only made you seethe
Received Honorable Mention in "losers" contest
robust wanderings
bring you near
walking stick and old canteen
britches, boots, all unseen
walks forever in the woods
chocolate bars
smoky fire
pull me out
a tent at night
and in the afternoon
sweet hay smell wispers
to the moon.
Form:
Paper art was tongue steeped wet,
Midnight’s swim in gel.
Tactile only silhouette,
Dense unseen new shell.
Dawn’s hot shower could not clean,
Midday’s warmth woke me.
Slow cures had tapped time’s canteen,
Blotter’s spell rinsed free.
A smoky station,
close conversation,
immorality...
The Boots library
suddenly is shown.
Canteen clusters;
curvaceous, cute
woman serves tea
to passengers.
Tension mounts;
hoot of train.
Africa?
Oh no!
Hand pressed.
Gone.
1/2/2016
9.
Swimming Fly
In a canteen where my food I buy
I draw my eyeballs to viands nigh
There was a soup hot as good
But something odd shifts my mood
A speck out of place, a swimming fly!
-01/03/2007
(Dumarao)
*Topsy-Turvy Limerick Ironic
I put it in my a.m. engine
and pray that it kicks in
By the time I reach my locker
I'm ready to punch in
My prayers are duly weighed and judged
as they swirl in my canteen
Helping me to mid-morn break
~ where I'll swig some more caffeine
The panorama's immensity
Twilight's intensity
Profoundly felt, heart-pounding shivers
On the shores of desert rivers
Of sweeps of sand, stretching endless
On darkling surface friendless
Canteen emptied, my last companion
Buried deep in this lost canyon
Wolfgang Mozart wolfed in haste,
A poetic sonata serene,
Harmonizing in good taste—
Finally finishing in canteen,
For a fix of caffeine.
Wolfgang Mozart makes no bones,
The audience not realizing,
He painted harmonic tones,
Spellbinding, yet not surprising,
Tunes so mesmerizing.
SAMBA
The samba from Morro Carioca
survived for the world,
Long live Mama Africa... !
ROCK
The rock and roll
runs wild
on the rocks...
SPEED GONZALEZ
In Juanita's canteen
mariachis and tequila
and bursts of laughter...
WALTZ
Oh! If I danced,
Ah! If I played,
The Viennese Waltz ...!
Wild horses, young women and cheap whiskey you see
Are certainly not all there cracked up to be
They will hurt your body, your heart and you're head
And if you're not careful they will leave you quite dead
I've got a cow pony a big dog and a canteen of water
I feel a lot better doing what I oughta!
By Mike Francis
My mammogram is due today
Twill be mammorable, I’ll say
Both boobies will hurty,
When squashed at 1.30,
Oh bother it’s on my birthday!
I’ll stand at the booby machine,
It clamps me, oh boy it’s so mean,
They’ll check for breast cancer
Scans provide the answer,
Then birthday lunch in the canteen.
25th January 2021
The cat lay recumbent upon the luthier's bench
among violin carcasses and something French.
Morning cows making their way to the milking stool
stepped over a reflected moon in last rain's pool.
The farmer's little dog yapped in obvious glee
at the potential for milk, some butter, or ghee.
The Potters reflected on the note they've just seen.
Their dishy young girl, eloped, with boy from canteen.
THE FRAME
Walking along a mountain trail
We came upon this simple frame
So scant and weathered leaning
Logs peeled and frail
An old canteen
Side a dry creek
Some empty cans
Held pork and beans
Just rocks and sticks
The small clearing
Had been ravaged
By nature’s licks
We stood a spell
Imagining
(cabin complete)
(retreat - to dwell)
In days long gone
What was the change
Death or taxes?
Then we moved on
Just s break time
It's lunch time, mind’s place of rest, in the rest
The delicious food has already been consumed
Now contemplation with a tea, it's like zen
And I see the guests of the canteen, they disappeared
Hmm, everything is emptiness, I recognised it
But I am still not an enlightenment, and finish break time
Back to reality, back to work, the life is just fun and meditation, nothing else, entertainment.
Bacon and eggs.(Hospital Food)
So here goes a story about bacon and eggs,
Breakfast they call it,looked more like the dreggs.
but as i soon learned,was an outside canteen,
where in front of my eyes,rolls and sausage were seen.
So i orders one up,
with some pepper and sauce,
but had almost passed out,from how little it cost.
So here`s to the staff,
in the hospital canteen,....
What we tick on our menus,
please make sure it is seen .
In the crazy canteen,
people threw plates
and let off steam...
The real canteen was somewhere else.
That one was an oasis of calm,
and people ate from plates quietly.
It was a place to talk to the boss
and hint at maybe, rises.
But in the crazy canteen
the bosses did not go...
It was just for workers evidently,
throwing knives and forks.
5/19/2015
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Featured poem of the week
8/7/2022
He was Brad Pitt handsome, and the girls were giddy about him.
Lived his days out on the range, favoring his horse and canteen.
Looked like a country western star, but never sang a tune.
Mysteriously quiet, did not use many words, worked hard.
Married a woman once upon a time who was as quiet as he.
Did not work out, for they had no common interests.
She wanted an in-house husband, he wanted a camp roll and stars.
Brad Pitt handsome, wasted on a horse. Sigh.
A Tribute to Jan Allison.
Mirror, tell me who is the rightful limerick queen
There is a poetess, the most humorous I've seen
She's the one called Jan
Funniest in the land
Reading her humour is like feasting on fine cuisine
Her limericks make me laugh til I rupture my spleen
and I wonder what she imbibes from her canteen
She swears she doesn't drink
So now I've begun to think
It must be something she got from an inherent gene