Short Clinking Poems
Short Clinking Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Clinking by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Clinking by length and keyword.
closing of the door
on another crazy year
clinking of glassware
opening the new door
peeking in on the inside
passage looking great
Happy New Year.
Crystal, half a flute-full.
Catchphrase at midnight hour.
Clinking blossoming glass.
Carefree effervescence.
Chilly sips with lipstick.
Cradle of New Year, rocks.
Calendar decks the wall.
The clinking toward an adventure.
The door latch of an old manor
to enter an obscure maze
and defy the legend.
A basement with tombs
and oubliettes.
And a dart
to meet
death.
Biking through winter's fog machine
as flakes swarm them to keep them warm,
kids exhale and are vaporized
from sight still clunking and clinking.
So much for fresh snow to unpack,
I wander across a
vanishing track.
a poem is a puzzlebox open and shut
with a chimeraean key. and fay-like
are the enterings it delves, where
a moment is all had. now
and then clinking to the sides. turn
slowly. it will change as if time passed.
Collin Lam
I find coins lying around
on the floor by the bed,
on the dresser or nightstand,
in the creases of the spread.
A penny here, a nickel there,
a dime clinking in the dryer.
Someday, I hope to spear
something a little bit higher.
There was an old man who marched in Dublin,
danced to malachite past, wore shammocks lean.
Guinness stout in clinking glass
he drank whole night en masse.
Through the day he dreamed Celtic dreams umpteen.
My heart is wounded,i'm a living corpse
I'm dead and buried,in my sorrow,i'm dry of sobs
My tears have dreaded,unwaiting of props
My life is tainted,i see no hopes
Tomorrow is unwaited,i've spinned like tops
For my heart is wounded,you left me a corpse
A manor house on a hill
Petit-fours & cheese trolley
These small things...
A whiskey glass clinking
Musk of ancient tweed
wet dogs by the fire
A front door strewn with wellies
and autumn leaves
These are the small things
of a perfect country afternoon
In the face of a serious threat,
the nation leader must be
auducious enought to make
a stand against the manacing fool.
Had the warriors of the past
not entered and fought
in the horrifying battlefield
clinking with swords...
they wouldn't have been glorified!
Written on 9/21/2017
Hold up your inky stinky pinkie
Have a rinky dinky Twinkie
With your glass of clinking drinky
Speak distinctly and succinctly
Be sure to get it right.
Minke baleens swim or sinky
Shrinking little bobolinky
Tinky's kinky blinky winky
Hug your finky slinky binky
Then take me home tonight.
What the heck am I thinking
I should maybe go drinking
And hear music plinking
With the glasses of clinking
See some girls winking
It has my eyes blinking
To be so drunk stinking
With all this linking
To a feeling of sinking
And the ego of shrinking
From all the unthinking
Sounds like fun
See ya later
I am not good at thinking
So I sit still, eyes blinking
Wondering what to write down
Share joys or in sorrows drown
With glasses of tears clinking
And my heart goes beep beep beep
Towards nothingness I creep
Devoid of desires and dreams
In the land of bubbling streams
Now I lay me down to sleep
01.25.2021
Standing in front of the hidden entrance
On horseback, with loud sacks
Clinking as loot hit loot.
With smiles of satisfaction adorning their faces
The chief said the magic words, and in went the team;
Safe from the spoiled, safe from the world,
Ready to go back out and lay misery on poor souls
(C) Nyonglema
I prefer to receive my own
Purchased by the clinking of keys and a
Blister forming on the thumb.
I prefer to find my own
Among the twisted branches and bleeding berries.
The coat with the mended sleeve dangles by my head
as we find the sleeping bears above us.
He laughs as his becomes a possum
And mine a mountain top.
son streams yesterdays
lady of those years keeps nigh~
clinking fetch astir
son owns two faint eyes
lady kept years eyes her son~
silver teaspoon rests
son eyes lady's room
stopped ~ curio stand lights up
son lost eyes to stand
silver teaspoon stirs
son holds Prince Albert's teacup~
soul sips into tears
The clinking of glasses,
The aroma of food,
Green sunlit grasses,
A cheerful mood.
Ice cream and chips,
And treats galore,
Smiling lips,
And so much more.
Playing and splashing
Inside the pool.
Summer colors clashing,
Like a glittering jewel.
Warm colored flowers,
Cool colored breeze,
Blissful hours,
Bright, green trees.
I can hear the dripping and I can hear the sizzling and the clinking and everything is
moving... but i am still i am so still and the shouting is in the background i miss the laughter
and the smiles all around but as quick as they turn to frowns i feel the demons rise from the
ground... where am i going ... not up ... but sadly down...
Form:
I have an inkling
My writing is winking
At me behind my back
Or maybe its just blinking,
Mindlessly thinking
While wrinkling up
My tiny universe
By tinkering
And intermingling
The real and the false~
I hear a clinking,
A chilling kind of whistling;
What is that stinking prickling
I can feel bristling
Up and down my spine?
Sparkly, dazzling dresses
Lovely made up faces
Tinsel in hair
Glitter to spare
Moments of glee
Captured in a selfie
Waiters bustling
Calling out orders
Over everyone chattering
Glasses clinking
Plates clattering
Cutlery clanging
As familiar songs play
Last christmas seems yesterday
Memories rush to mind
Of Christmases long ago
She is always
Radiant
In the morning
The clinking of pots & pans
She loves to laugh at the
Popping
Of the butter, or at the comics
-in the Sunday's paper.
Always showing those
Pearly whites
-a smile that is contagious
And the sun that
Kisses
Her blonde hair, & gives and extra
Twinkle
-to her eyes
She is always
Radiant
In the morning.
Form:
Almond cookies and French Roast,
a superb treat for a king or Queen;
a glass of Andre' to make a toast,
a torte soaked in Baccardi...cin, cin!*
Sue baked a huge cake, but it looked like coal;
it supposed to be lemon, not chocolate, lol!
Vanilla pudding
done in a few whipping strokes:
chill it, then eat it!
* Italian: onomatopoeic for clinking of glasses
Born January eighth
Nineteen thirteen
No clinking champagne flutes
No blowing out birthday candles
Only impressions of a party
That might have been
This reverent January eighth
Two thousand thirteen
AP: Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on November 5, 2017 for contest 8-LINE POEM sponsored by RICK PARISE - RANKED 3RD
In the beautiful, quiet morning
I’m disturbing that fog of silence
I’m putting away the dishes
Chinking glass, the shelves closing
Nothing banging
The sticky shelf finally opening
So I’m placing the bowls
Pulling drawers and
The silverware clinking,
The plates clanging; my feet shuffling
My first cup of tea
Is freshly brewing
And now here I am
Just writing
Champagne
Champagne bubbles tickle!
Can you feel their misting?
Corks are pop...POP...POPPING
Counting down to Midnight!
Confetti starts dropping
Cocktails sipped and lifting
Clinking: HAP!--PY NEW YEAR!
deborah burch©12.21.16
_______________________________________________
Form: Pleiades
For Andrea 's Merry Christmas /Happy
New Year---Pleiades CONTEST.