Short Clippings Poems
Short Clippings Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Clippings by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Clippings by length and keyword.
Coins and watches
keychains
old newspaper clippings
Necklaces and chains
stamps
baseballs cards and old pictures
all thrown into one
past and future fuse
together like grass.
old clippings on the ground,
new lawn grows surely all around.
sun and rain, green up the plain,
so we may gain some game.
Form:
I leave DNA here, there and the other.
In fingernail clippings and hair of my brother.
If there's a murder, we'll be in trouble.
Especially me, for I have a twin double.
nail clippings
Buffalo
in the snow
Damar looks
on in angst
his heart stops
field glazed white
same as eyes
Bill’s demise
1/23/2023
Tricube form
Not for contest
There once was a distressed Monster Loch Ness
Whose office-at-home was really a mess
She'd lost her press clippings
Midst daredevil flippings
Lost her pj's too ~ so couldn't undress
I've gardened and read
I wrote poetry in my head
I picked up all the clippings
And everything red.
Time now to nap
And dream dreams far away
Of my true love
My one love
And a light house....
Reviewing the clippings of his mountain climbs
like watching a flick solo for the umpteenth time
The longer he lingered, the tireder he grew
~ not much fun without the rest of the crew
Old newspaper clippings
as they hang on the wall
my old toys
stored in the cedar chest
the color of skin
as we work together
my two dogs and cat
chasing each other
my ink gliding across white paper
as I write this poem
I could never write a poem about
Horseradish
Dust bunnies
Nose hairs
Rat droppings
A dead roach
Cow pies
Mastication
Silverfish
Ketchup
A dirty diaper
A car engine
Naval fuzz
Cobwebs
Vampires
Microphones
Skateboards
Nail clippings
Torn limbs
I say and then I do.
JOEL
I go through you
weaving
strings of finely minced clippings
But, on the green Elysian
I will devour you
I will show you mortal wings
cunning lips as sweet as money.
Through the eye of the needle,
trough the open lids of desire,
I will thread you poems of harvest.
I hear my sister calling me for dinner
As I'm raking up the clippings from the grass.
I turn my head
And am stuck by the gently setting sun
That glows red through the soft grey clouds.
A light breeze plays with my hair
As this warm summer evening crawls to a close.
I inhale.
"Coming!"
clippings fall onto the page,
arranging themselves.
ivy loosely parades
around a thorny rose stem,
tickles the chin,
entices the shy bud —
a blush,
potently pink, blossoms.
baby’s breath
and Queen Anne’s lace,
like bridesmaids,
intensify her beauty.
a pond of water
in a shimmering vase, nearby.
possibilities.
11/1/2019
with no hope
of ever seeing
you without a
telescope
for your galaxy
and you are
more than
light years
away
but a
slow
drop
from
my eyes
to the almost
full bucket by my
feet
features
the dying tears
of a been dead poet
NOW for our
next exhibit
we have
finger
nail
clippings
from the poet
himself but not by
clippers
only
by
teeth
Form:
Some sort of magnet.
Some sort of bushel.
Some sort of worthless old coin.
Some sort of balloon.
Some sort of pickle I could be in.
Some sort of medicine.
I have a lightning busting, cannonball feeling.
Just like crossing the street to howl again.
Some sort of grave yard.
Could my gravestone already exist, just not engraved yet?
I want…
Some sort of cookie, grass clippings, garage door opener…
Ouch
CULTURE VULTURE
Once gave a girl I liked a black
Tribal mask from Africa, with real hair.
Don’t know why, but she gave me it back.
It all went downhill from there.
Then I fancied her sister Gail
And at Christmas I presented her in vain
With my collection of clippings of toenail.
She never answered my calls again.
Some women are very attractive
It’s nice to enjoy their tease,
But I’m a guy who’s culturally active,
And women are so hard to please.
tapping on the glass of decorative balls
I was sorting through the flavors
trying to savor them all
slowing down for a moment to read the writing on the wall
saw your signature there, etched in ink scrawl
I wonder why it took love's haze to find my way
used to thinking with my mind, but the feeling's here to stay
falling to my knees like crescent clippings on the floor
I stare up at the face that I dream of more and more
your smile's a wet welcome
your body my home
Observe the garden ninja
on the attack
a leaf blower
strapped to their back
and a lawn mower
but no sack
to collect the clippings
let alone picking up and putting in
the garden waste wheelie bin
merely making noise
severely reducing weeds
and flowers alike
'til they're nought but seeds
and when they strike
producing fumes
from badly-burned
fossil fuel ill-consumed
on the wind to be returned
from whence they once were
all flora is sadly doomed
I jogged, one foot after the other,
Lungs wide open to welcome,
Breathings of the warm evening air,
Eyes stung at the touch of
Cruel sweat, saturated and salty.
I jogged, a flat branch overhead,
My left arm reached out to touch
The tree and its clippings,
Dwindling down the serpent's throat,
Though my fingers were amiss.
I jogged, against the moving air,
Soles hitting the ground aloud,
Bullets firing as if the sound,
Outpacing the farthest person,
All was fair and square.