Short Craw Poems
Short Craw Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Craw by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Craw by length and keyword.
Crow caw synthesizer flight
enrapture blackest pit of night.
Rumble drum the saccharine fawn
cold craw stuck remnant
of omnivorous dawn.
Mocking bird sitting on a twig
Filling his craw with those ripe figs
Babies are grown flown from home
All that responsiblity long gone, gone
Beyond a shadow of a doubt,
There’s much to be outraged about.
But what gets my craw,
The final, last straw:
Chaco Tacos have been phased out.
Ivory hunting's disgusting, it's against the law
It's not to be tolerated, sticks in my craw
A practice inhumane
Boggles the brain
Proof that greed is a real major human flaw
Pensacola and Grenola
What we had presumed was Pensacola,
Did know was highly related to granola;
Apalachicola saw
With a crab craw,
And about their women said ooh la la.
Jim Horn
Jim Horn
'Ridiculous'
Is In The Craw
Of The:
Behold!
The Ridicular!
Empty,
Wasted,
Un-Enlightened
Layers Of
Fabricated
Settle-Ment.
-Gray Squirrel
06-30-2025
Racism can't be condoned in any way shape or form
It's not who we are, it should never be the norm
All equal under the law
Really sticks in my craw
Witnessing this arrogance leaves me to mourn
A number of folks are quite upset
Trump speaks his mind without regret
"My military" may stick in one's craw
Possession is still 9/10ths of the law
Our POTUS crows, "Cock-a-doodle, Doo-doo,
I rule this world, and I do not need you!"
No Objection
From his mind he needed protection
And no one had an objection
Picture of Carson we saw
That really grabbed my craw
Was with Jesus' at His resurrection.
Jim Horn
I remember Ben having a big picture
of Jesus in his home hallway.
Cruz croppin' cruz control,
contralateral craw fishing on the soul-
grounding intimidation,
growling conversations,
growing in the grooms greatest advantageous...
Glowing-
gory the launch pad goal,
cloning calamity's spindrift off the walls of the show.
What would you say
Would you take it straight away
If it cut you to the craw
Would it be something to think of it some more
Or do you get to a point of view
The it is more than you could take or do
So make a clean cut of these things
And with a clean slate see what tomorrow brings.
© Paul Warren Poetry
What would you say
Would you take it straight away
If it cut you to the craw
Would it be something to think of it some more
Or do you get to a point of view
The it is more than you could take or do
So make a clean cut of these things
And with a clean slate see what tomorrow brings.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Two Lenses
As I straddle my oak here and now
down below me they’re having a cow
my mother turns white
my father ignites
I survey every yard and say: ”WOW!”
Lament for my oak and much better days
The weather betrays the bend and the sway
Climb up with my saw
(it sticks in my craw)
To cut memories and moments away.
Frightful feelings flush his face,
damned to dance with his disgrace,
stigma stained though sight unseen,
damaged days depress, demean.
Silent secrets simmer, sulk,
hardened hairy heartless hulk,
oracle of all obscene,
decoy demons daunt his dreams.
Witless words waging war,
baleful bully, beastly bore,
cancer catches in his craw,
fury was his fatal flaw.
I once had a treasure and now
All I have is an empty chest
The rubies and gold have been stolen
My heart is now an empty nest
My dove has flown away with a crow
His craw took her away
Her golden heart she once had
Has now turned into dust
I will still fly south for the winter
Keeping my heart warm
For tomorrow is another day
I will find myself a new dove
Creating a new love
they said I was a terror people's mind,I will show em how I did it.and damn well how I
will stick with it?so try hate me break me,I won't break.so people thought this Korean boy
couldn't never make it to the top.thinking I was going to fall down craw like a baby talk
like a baby,because they said I could never do it,never do it.
so will I ever make it,or will take it..this isn't far from over
He rode the endless desert
As the days ran together in it
At first it was what he needed
But being alone finally exceeded
What he felt being the only law
In the Australian desert cut to the craw
He visited the homesteads occasionally
And saw Aborigines living their life free
But one day when the heat was unbearable
Life untenable he hung himself from a tree.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Collective self-consciousness,
the well where I draw
old voices and struggles
lie deep in its craw
What’s shared but unstated,
reflexively pawned
to borrow ungiven
the right to what’s wrong
Collective self-consciousness,
polarity’s friend
unspoken meridian
between fact and pretend
To wait in the memory
of what’s yet to come
released by the moment
—humanity won
(The New Room: February, 2022)
The rains of impossible and
unbearable are falling,
Dear lord, I need a shell to craw
in.
Death, disease, suffering and
unrighteousness dropping on
people’s heads
Make me like a tortoise with a
shell oh lord to brace my head.
The rains of impossible and
unbearable are falling,
Dear lord, I need a shell to craw
in.
Alva kanyika.
Everyone wins a free ticket.
There's always another draw.
Some will be drawn to the next wicket,
with those who have plenty to craw.
All of them saying the draws fixed.
Still; they stay in for the hope.
None of them knowing just who's nixed
that everyone's feeling the dope.
One lucky winner to finally come.
Millions awaiting his luck.
Some saying God must have given him some.
The others too jealous to cluck.
SHADOWS
Actors on a dimly lit stage...
SCENE 1:
dead-eyed audience
whispers behind the black curtains
plastics smiles
reluctant hands
chained feet
pouted lips ...
SCENE 2:
... arctic hors d'oeuvre
copious food
wines, beers - pride Irish!
trivial tattles
inebriated
blank heads...
SCENE 3:
... crawl upstairs
darkness, touch and feel
snores, toss and turn, toss and turn …
cock craw
morning …
a vicious circle
SCENE 4:
cold eyes bores to sky ...
When offering advice, it’s best,
So you won’t be forsaken,
To ponder just exactly how
Your guidance might be taken.
For uninvited judgment,
Even said with good intent,
Might be something the recipient
Could very well resent.
Critiques, although constructive,
Often stick in someone’s craw;
Not everyone appreciates
The spotlight on a flaw.
So I’d tread very lightly,
My objections kept inside,
‘Cause a wound to someone’s ego
Might be all that I’d provide.
Vile vertian growth of no delight
Who will not pass beyond the craw,
Whose colour is unnatural bright,
No twig do I detest the more.
Dispatch you! For you will not sate
For hunger I would rather greet,
Your clogging florets gag the pate’
Your presence? It insults the meat!
From whence you came I do not know
You are naught upon the tongue,
A plague on those, your seeds, do sow
O rot in ground, be done!
Vile vertian growth of no delight
Be banished, ever from my sight.
Death Of A Sweet Gum
Miracle Man
3/14/2022
Leaves cascading as if indiscriminately lost,
casualties of nature and multiple nights frost.
Once a coat of many colors on our Sweet Gum Tree,
they’ve quickly become just more yard debris.
Leaving exposed, a tree with prickly brown balls,
that will winter as ugly until the last one falls.
This yearly problem no more sticks in my craw,
my light bulb moment was my Stihl chain saw.
Varoom, varoom, varoom.
Someone disfigured our car
And really, I think, went too far.
No tires were slashed;
No windshield was smashed
But the perps seemed to lower the bar.
A sticker was placed on the back
Which felt just like a coward’s attack;
On the metal, not bumper
And left by a Trumper,
Both reason and cause it did lack.
My husband did what he could do
And scraped it all off, but some glue
Seemed to stick; what he saw
Still is stuck in my craw –
Seeing red makes me feel much more blue.