Short Circulate Poems
Short Circulate Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Circulate by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Circulate by length and keyword.
nature’s love precepts
accumulate, circulate –-
wisdom’s pools of truth
*In honor of John Freeman’s “The Precept: Nature’s Haiku” contest
Still waters
Allow not movement
Just stagnate from its neglect
Stir it up, letting it circulate
To flow in nat’ral order
Ride upon its waves
In sunshine
Septet syllable count is 3,5,7,9,7,5,3, unrhymed
a showpiece
a speciality
to
declaim:
visually clever
a retort even
to circulate:
enfolded
in a prestigious
compendium
of the poetsirregular&glib-
a hackneyed canticle
to provoke
or not
The verses circulate
between the sacred and the profane,
between food and hunger,
between ugliness and beauty...
Between the salty and the sweet,
between the beauty and the beast...!
And we poets among everything
and all... !
You don’t break your heart
Your heart is very important,
To circulate blood it beats
While singing One God’s beads;
Pumping blood is its a duty
Through arteries of the body,
To save life for certain time
Then no more heard and seen.
Mean Storm Forming..
Red stormy sky’s forming above the land and to the seas.
Mountainous terrain is being swelled by clouds of insanity.
Once that storm reaches that warm water beach.
Those clouds will circulate then the winds will start to peak.
Palm trees dance in the wind
Waving their leaves like a fan
As the clouds disappear
The sun moves in
Promising a day so refreshing
Flourishing thoughts of anew
Peace and love how beautiful
And positively designed
To circulate contentment
Throughout the mind
Restless indigenous soul
Scraping the sky for new experience
Men drown their days in sequence
Bone eyes cast aside in assumption
Work contracts to forcefeed diligence
Its a pity to stay glued and arranged
Love knows no mobility like fame
Circulate your sordid notes
We will join irresistibly
Times they do change,
Like pulsating rhythms,
everyone says that nothing is a like,
yet all are the same,
we circulate back to same old tired problems.
thinking that they are brand new.
till no one looks to the past anymore,
because how can it reflect on our future.
nothing is left when we finally look,
and see,
that yes this has happened before.
The spiders know before we do,
Cozy
Expanding black clouds
On the edge of a meal
In the corner of my bedroom
The last of the flies circulate
Wall, wall, window, wall
It is just a matter of time
Meanwhile the girls and I
Find benches in the last scrap of brassy sunlight
Furiously rub the upright hairs from our arms
And fight the gails
Blowing our skirts like sails.
These lines I write
and think well done
are merely words strung
from some propelling force,
while I watch them appear.
Watch to find the air
shimmer with familar light
within its space of silence
as a volt of words is written.
Words writing words
that become smitten
by this familar mind
with holding on to cadence or rhyme
to circulate through
a calling to do better.
Novel ideas
Circulate in his head
Swirl around evasively
Intimidating his dreams
He has no idea what to do
He has never written more than a short story
His muse entices him to begin, inspiring trust.
He wakes up with a full work up of what he is going to write.
“I am going to write a novel,” he tells everyone he meets that day.
There are many eye rolls, but none of them are his. He happily begins….
On rain drenched mornings
words may feel too heavy
to absorb dense Truth,
May smell too bleached
to taste thin Beauty,
May sound too restrictive
to recreate revolutionary visions.
Yet, absence of words
may sound too drenched
in universal drizzle
to comfort,
to circulate lively blood
for warm interior climate cleansing
Rain water
distilling
tomorrow's more fertile
silent soil
silk skinned soul.
You come in as submissive
My inner circle you dominate
Blood line circulate never ovulates
One silly move
you in it for weeks
I meditate your lust
My past I garden you to die
Water you to drown
Milk it
my bones will carry me
Breathe, weed, smoke, air was always air
Lifeless solutions you benefit
I live to regret
My faith in you contemplate
Traditional quick but puppets
Bloom or follow dooms leads
.
just az mine
remember'd
hern toxic
linger'n 'bout
mine
alwayz when sum
purtiez wanton
az in
4mine pleaze
circulate
my
You are day and night to me—
Much more,
My before
And yet to manifest
Within You I circulate
While beyond You
Still more of You
I seek to elevate—
The vine of my spirit
Reaching up, and then
Further,
Each leaf of me suspended
The craving
Is light—
I am in balance…
Elevating for illumination
All of me
Grasping and lifting,
Following transparency
Of new veins
And meridians,
Seeking mastery
While saturated
With love....
My true God taught me
that he allowed false stories
to circulate about him
To test the allegiance
of those who truly loved him
Were they going to follow his
plan of action for their benefit
Or were they going to follow the
lying of their own hearts
To their detriment
The greatest leader and
creator of our souls taught
me to test people to see
if their alligence is truly
for me. You can't argue with
the wisdom of an only true God
go out and distribute the gospel "the good news"
circulate the message about God's views
propagate, promulgate, scatter and sow
the Word that God wants everyone to know
be a part of The Great Commission
as a disciple of God, you have His permission
dispense, disperse, extend and expand
spread the "good news" to everyone you can
publish it, print it
exhibit it, commit it
the gospel, "the good news"
the Word of God
spread it, evangelize it
and take it to heart
The Dummy
Lying in a corner
With a smirk on his face
Eyes wide, not yet moving
Maché thoughts circulate.
Reality assured,
He was ready to go,
Dependency resting
On a hand from below.
His own paralysed hands
In his parodied suit
Did not have the means
To greet or salute.
From whence the desire,
The will and intention?
How to be free from
Ventriloquist intervention?
The God of the dummy
Is beyond belief,
His place in the corner
A God-given peace
Substantial quadrants of hate
Throughout these veins circulate
Spiraling in frenzied states
Adrift an ailing coma
Infinite corruption clawed my corneas
Birthing the erasure of euphoria
Imprinting trademarks of memoria
Leaving in wake vile aromas
All confidence dissolved to solvents
Due to definitive involvement
Susceptible to gaunt installments
Marring my skin with melanoma
Mother Earth serves as a mime
Humanity must be refined
Listen to poem:
If I was a lung
I'd need you as breath
If you are the air
You keep me from death
My blood needs your heart
To circulate freely
And also your eyes
To love how you see me
I'll walk with my legs
To wherever you are
As the healer of bones
Of each fracture or scar
You put me together
As I once used to be
It's like magic, but better
And although it sounds twee
If you opened me up
And examined each pore
Tattooed here is devotion
With your name through my core
You may think it's unique
That it's just
happened to you
at the moment
But it has all been done before
Anything that you imagine
has already taken place
It's nothing knew
It may seem
like it's a catastrophe
or that it's the greatest
thing that ever occurred
This is just an illusion
an illumination of discrepancies
fostered by time and space
bolstered by the relevancies
of disinterested specimens
that circulate through
the time portals
of everyday situations