Short Chapped Poems
Short Chapped Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Chapped by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Chapped by length and keyword.
Sweet lips
Dark eyes
Nice smile
Worth the while
Chapped and used lips
Playful eyes
Mischievous smile
Worth the lies
Form:
the sweet taste of strawberry wine
burns my chapped lips
it hides my pain of losing you
your crimson cheeks
how they greeted me each morning
til your last
the wave rolled, moving
the currents in the heart, dancing
to the beating drum
it came to die on your shores
the salt to your chapped, dark fjords
think of criminals eating crackers with chapped lips,
and i bust in, as slightly used balm
screaming " my duty is to lube!"
...all these criminals squeezing my tube.
sliced lemons
slide into thermal cup,
fresh mint leaves
and a honey drip.
boiling water splashes —
filling the vacuous space.
i sip repeatedly,
over chapped lips.
12/29/2017
People passing
Snowflakes dancing
Turkey is served
The lines are curved
Gifts are wrapped
Frigid winds, lips chapped
Decorated stores, glistening and twinkling
Flashing lights appear to be winking
That complete lack of moisturizer
as the wind blew out of control.
Pummeled down to the ground,
chapped chaos kissed my lips.
Supple skin dried out
with one swift gust.
Left starving
to get
soft.
Poly wogs in creek
sounds of coyotes howling
in summer breeze
things were peaceful
hair tied in pony knot
sunburnt face and chapped lips
light scratches on legs
from running through
tall blades of grass
yes this is summer
Everlasting journey, climbing up and slipping back.
Solid footholds shifting, never the same path.
Raising eyes to the sky, seeking the Heavens above.
Chapped skin and sweaty palms, now falling down.
Only to begin again, on life's Eternal trial.
they pluck innocent flowers
of the dying earth
throw it up in the sky
and giggle lunatically
chapped lips wrinkled minds
cactus in the yellow sand
bleeding ostriches hide
their growing eggs
a camel sleeping
on four legs
i am wearing the new rain
Form:
A garden unattended
is a woman abandoned
Grass growing unruly
her hair untidy
Petals dried out
manicure urgently needed
Dry stems and twigs
chapped lips and dry skin
Weeds vined and entwined around trees
ingrown toenails and coarse heels on feet
time is eternal
does not pass does not end
dead of winter days
closed in by bitter cold
iced in
we run the extra heaters
babies dressed in sweaters
chapped red cheeks from snow play
sit in stunned tiredness
we wait for dinner
we all sleep and wake well after
dark
blinking
You taste it on the tip
Of soul—
Brief pictures captured
From car windows
As you race by.
You hear it in your head—
Silently mime words
On chapped lips.
You know you could have
Said it so much better—
Letting words be your emotion
As you sit silently
And do nothing.
You take up pen—
And it’s not there.
I stand here disconnected
from my stressful life,
listening in silence
to chapped leaves whistling.
Reflecting on this
solitary moment,
a time when my soul needs
to recharge.
Before raindrops
distract my thoughts,
and i compose myself once more.
Watching God answer your needs
as i too have felt his presence.
chapped lips,
unkissed for many years,
cracked and swollen,
like my stone cold heart,
these lips see only tears
hardly a reason for them to part
do they make chap-stick
for the lost and lonely heart?
if they do, tell me, don't lie
how would I apply it
the comforting balm
of waxy protection
from the ache that makes me cry
(When I was a Teenager)
The chapped walls represent for me,
The pent-up anger and aggression inside,
The cold interior, the fire with fuel,
That rage which does in me abide.
To let it out would be exquisite,
Impeccable and good without exception,
I need a psychologist, proper and effective,
Who'll act and not just listen, a detective.
Nothing about it was bold,
walking in the cold,
chapped lips,
cracked finger tips,
no soul to be sold,
this miserable life put death on hold,
frozen walk,
and the chill right down to the bone,
always alone,
no home,
the wind strong,
hunger sat in for so long,
he didn’t know right from wrong,
through trash he sifts,
and through the cold night, he drifts.
She left me
one fine spring day.
I didn't see it coming,
or rather her going away.
Winter came because
she left me.
My heart chapped from
the coldness of her exit.
I couldn't find her
to beg her back since
she left me
I remain a total wreck.
Time has passed but
I still cry in my bed that
has become a tomb in which
she left me.
Viator Form by ©SamHarty
Could you love me
Could you love my chapped lips
Would you kiss them
Could you love my bitten nails
Would you hold my hands anyway
Could you love my tear stains
Would you wipe my crying eyes
Could you love my body
Would you hold me as if I were perfect
Could you love my mind
Would you pretend it was good
Could you love me
And
Would you if you still could choose
your hair's
a little messy,
your lips,
slightly chapped.
i can tell
you wore
the same shirt
yesterday,
but i don't mind
at all.
bags have
formed under
your eyes
from lack
of sleep.
your shoes,
muddy after
a run
in the rain.
but, if
anything,
there's
one thing
you should know.
i like you
just the way
you are,
even if you're
not perfect.
Awkward words stumble from chapped lips, drifting into the empty embrace of the wind.
My halo of hope pales in comparison to the crowns of health I pass every day.
Shaking hands hang from loose wrists, ghosting over the idea of happiness but are never given the chance to hold it.
The sorrow is saved for the noise of the night, and the thin facade of wellness will always be worn for the morning.
Frostbitten winds cut my cheek, the same place pecked
Gently by your chapped lips.
Paradise is lost in ideas of youthful naivety – hopes, miracles
All simply dreamt before time’s continuity.
Acceptance of a possible worse truth told –
I can’t hold hope in promise, not any longer. . .
Humming softly in broken shards of rueful, indelible pasts,
I welcome the unending abyss – engulfed.
Yet alive.
If I were to have just one wish,
I'd wish for just one careful kiss
Upon my lips-chapped though they be,
Oh, Sorrow! That you can't love me.
A softer silence settles fears,
That you have been gone many years.
Yet all my love stays in my chest
For you, my love. Until I rest.
Perhaps you were not 'the one'
But from my heart you have not gone.
Oh why! Oh why! Is love so cruel?
Why over my poor heart you rule?
Form:
More pans to wash …
More pans to wash!!!
They come umpteen times a day.
My hands are chapped,
My back is crook’d
I wish they’d go away.
But when they’re dry and shiny, sitting neatly on their shelves
My thoughts can turn to what comes next -
Some tasty treat, no longer vexed
I now ‘create; and undertake
Pie, bun, roast a glorious cake?
Foods to soothe the ravening beasts
My pans cook up some wondrous feasts.
Drowning in distance
Homesick lips
Chapped and bewildered
Skin pale
Faded by friction
Squinty hands
Hold sunken eyes blinded
Voices echo
Under chewed fingernails
In throbbing vocal cords
ash ingested
leaves feet tapping
rhythms mindless in nature
corresponding
with denim treble
between legs withdrawing
sunrise water
fills my mind’s puzzles
deliberate and violently
melts into my sleep
so i can dream again