Short Catapulted Poems
Short Catapulted Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Catapulted by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Catapulted by length and keyword.
From the ivory heights of heaven
I am catapulted down
To the bottom side of Nothing
Where envy gilds my crown—
Separation, subjugation,
Force my frantic frown.
Pitter patter raindrops are slapping
The windows pelting at the glass
Like chipped bone hacked and splintered
Wind whipped and catapulted
The wood of the house dulls the sound
But the glass twinpained amplifies
The droplets Pitter Patter, Patter,Pitter
An unnatural sound to disturb sleep
Immersed in stars
brilliance captures brilliance
aroused renaissance
familiar territory
her guise catapulted through
universes
drenched comet hurled
gazing, still, motionless
she seduced her moon
graceful change she
aligns her glass
Heaven whispers
brilliance captures brilliance
Late musical giant; despite blindness catapulted to fame.
The incomparable Ray Charles. "Robinson" was his surname.
Made hit songs "Hit The Road, Jack" and "Georgia On My Mind."
Nicknamed "Brother Ray"...he's irreplaceable; truly one-of-a-kind.
Date written: 11/02/2021
Catapulted through
Time my soul reached out to seas
Of black in the void.
The journey long though,
I made it in seconds and
Then began to swim
Few understand it
The quest of a soul seeking
Its enlightenment.
On I continued
And in the great library
I found my purpose.
The light within me
Glowed in cerulean blue
I had touched Gods mind.
No one understands
Enlightenment until they,
Arrive at its shores.
I shivered, and dreaded her face
As she put me in a test every morning
I can never please her
Her way or no way!
This thing called EVALUATION
Is so subjective
It can’t be objective
When one is prejudiced.
But, how many ways can you peel a banana?
Or, how many ways can you dress a chicken?
How many ways can you put coffee in your cup?
Or, how many ways can you style your hair?
I catapulted to a higher ground
Aha! I am on top of everything!
KUDOS TO MYSELF!
FOES
They pretend to be nice…
Whilst their hatred is buried in ice…
So cold to reveal sarcastic pieces…
That catapulted their prejudice…
Now their conscience is in slices...
Their fate narrow and gamble with dices…
Without facts, quiet like mice…
Whoever honours them deserves it thrice…
Their secrets with no value yet with price…
Extent of their jealousy boomerang twice…
Habitual truth procrastinators to deride themselves,
their lives are always lies…
By Willem Pietersen