Short Crayon Poems
Short Crayon Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Crayon by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Crayon by length and keyword.
tombstone with fresh sod
a young mother’s tears have stopped –
crayon picture taped
~20 Mar 2014~
grandson favors the black crayon
he always picks it first out of the lineup
even his rainbows have thick strips of black
to him black crayons matter.
kisses form flowers
billow, filled in with color
a child’s crayon moves
so much like a seismograph
happiness upon the page
Sidney Hall the mad poet
Thought he wrote poems but does not know it
It’s his imaginary friend Glen
That writes his poem with a crayon nota pen
© 2000
Today a simple blessing that comes from every artist
who work with paints or pencils or chalks…
Life is much more colorful
when we use every crayon in the box
This lavender crayon has always been a lie
As I am colouring a page while I loudly sigh
Because the task at hand is tedious is why
And not the pastel purple for which I try.
If Campfire Blue was a crayon,
i’d color the sky,
I’d color the water,
I’d color the blue things,
until the color was gone,
leaving scorch marks in my brain,
and on my heart.
Form:
If I were to put crayon to page
Perhaps that crayon would be sage.
The same colour sage that my eyes see
In my mirror looking back at me.
If a crayon I would be,
I'd be deep sage ...like the sea.
Form:
I've been writing now, fourscore years and ten
I started with a crayon, switch to pencil and then pen
And even though I'm older now, I still can make a bloop
Using my new keyboard to poop right in my soup
Red swing dance
Smooth, cold touch
Foggy white brain
Froggy right pain
Blind, tired heart
Filmy white eyes
Bad handwriting
Bland crayon fighting
Cold leather book
Warm red fire
Nice soft bed
Rest my head
faces tinted by
the canon of complexion…
flesh colored crayons
Note – In the early 1960’s the flesh colored
Crayola Crayon was changed to pink beige
due to “social concerns”.
.He saw her
holding up a sign:
"Welcome Home Daddy", scrawled in
red crayon by a blue-eyed angel.
After months in the desert
this soldier found his
oasis.
Kim Merryman
Giveme A Sign contest by Nette Onclaud
5/16/15
I watched as his tiny hands held the crayon,
first time homework, and I wanted to help,
but I knew this was his challenge, not mine.
In time he would figure things out on his own,
and one day, he would be a daddy, with children
of his own.
A weary soldier saw her,
a blue-eyed angel holding up a sign:
"WELCOME HOME DADDY",
large letters scrawled in red crayon.
After months in the desert,
this soldier had found his oasis.
1/22/22
for Line Gauthier's
Bite-sized #33 contest
With black broken crayon
vanishing myself in mirror;
but it denied and decided
to divide into dozens.
Smithereens stare me
showing my sparse face.
But this time i accept it
As it is far more better
than a broken bosom.
August 3, 2020
If you can't figure out
What kind of day it is
Grab first a yellow crayon
The clouds are of course
Orange and blue
And the sky is dark
The world is all still
As long as you are
Coloring the paper
You are not sick
Your parents are alive
Life is a sweet lie
1
Yes, I miss the roosters,
like Gabriel's Horn calling me home,
Summer mornings 4:00;
Crayon Chickens
drawing everywhere there was dirt,
cackling, quarreling,
Cu-cu-ling those weird worrying uh-ohs
when the hawks circled,
Fleeing for the coops or the trees;
History written in pencil is easily erased,
but crayon is forever. Emilie Autumn
THE MODEL
staged and statuesque
the model upon his desk
he takes liberty
for granted, shoves her to side
she falls off with his pencil
2/12/2022
series haiku
crooked paper heart
fold is on the wrong side
the right side
gripping the crayon
YOU ARE THE BEST, he labors
tongue between his teeth
can't wait till Sunday
opening his backpack -
his heart is broken
Mom to the rescue
his hero saves the day
Elmer's glue and hugs
a
poetic
girl
dedicated
& creative
with
a love
for all poetry
beautiful
from birth
a born poet
writing
in crayon
then pencil
then pen
storyteller of
words
with
a bleeding pen
They took all my metal parts.
Which they said were dangerous.
And handed me a crayon.
Convicts, get to work!
Write away your lives.
And leave them here.
So you will all be reformed!
They commanded.
They demanded.
Until we were trained.
To act without urgency.
I am the stereotype of a middle-age lady with grey hair
Working as a preschool teacher
Wearing mumu dresses in bright colors
A Sunday school teacher wanting to make it a full-time job
To whittle myself a new profession
I'm not the brightest crayon in the box
But, I know I can do it!
The child has drawn a stick-figure.
Primitive, it lacks a pulse. A child
sees a hero beyond nerve and sinew,
heart red as rhubarb. In buckskin
fringes, gazing into a pool
just struck by lightning.
Three more strokes of crayon
create a stallion at full gallop,
its hooves touching nothing but air.
Form:
Nighttime is the time when
things spill out of
a child's blanket..
a broken crayon
first day of school
a first hero
a talking frog
training wheels
a tiny tow truck
heart broken
driver's license
cell phone
never home
graduation.
Nighttime is the time when
things spill out of
a child's blanket...
Speak flowers ever lasting
Showing out in true fashion
The high times giving attitude
Helping rain true
Popular fashion show
Music chiming in
How are you
I'm the friend
Like the blue of the sky
Like the warming in the heart
Savoring new thoughts
Petals talking
How about that?
Crayon usage invisible