Short Cringing Poems
Short Cringing Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Cringing by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Cringing by length and keyword.
Nothing's worse than a needle in your eye
Cringing is unavoidable as I try not to cry
Open them up
Wish you luck
It won't hurt a bit, well at least you won't die
Eh, pal what are your chances of winning?
Ah, you could have banked all this saving
for an early retirement...
to cherish that sentiment!
When you're completely broke, start cringing!
Ah...
bemused,
bountiful,
belligerents.
Covering caskets,
cocooning, cringing cracks
doubting, desolate, dodgers;
forever fishing, finding fist,
that will always swim before they hit.
when i'm feeling
like i'm falling
my wings
fell off
when i'm cringing
as i'm crawling
on all fours
on the floor
trying to find
that fake
make
shift
halo
that i lost
when it lost
it's luminosity
Form:
His believers
were seen leaving
their earthly bodies;
then He turned to go.
Others marked intransigent,
never desiring more than
their own fragile beauty,
were left here indelibly
cringing in shame
to die among their own.
Form:
Still as a whisper
Small as a mouse
Creeping and cringing
in a large house
Screams echo daily
Cries in the night
Deaf eyes turn blindly
Away from the sight
Who then will listen
Who then will hear
The cries of the children
Echoing tears
Form:
The Crying Child
The child cries
wriggling limbs
Scrolling the heavens
Cringing away
from the clinging shadows
Streaming tears
drowning the earth
Echoing thunders
across the land
The land bleeds
even as the creators sleeps
All is black;
and you cry as
darkness
overwhelms you,
cringing all alone
in the dark;
helpless,
confused, and
frightened.
Do not weep,
I'm a friend,
let me strike a match
and set your doubts and fears
free;
as we share its light.
Prickly green crow with fuzzy eyes crept into the meadow last night
Purple thistles cringed when they saw who it was, they knew him.
He was notorious for swallowing their buds and shoots in gulps.
Does he have a name? A cringing wildflower asked. Scared shootless.
So inviting of the scratchings on the wall
Hang gliding fingernails scraping you can hear the noise
Screeching and crunching
Cringing face smudging ears popping
Consciousness wondering when will it be stopping
Porous walls
Scratching itching claws
My loss, not to notice
With whom coexist I.
My shame, not to think twice
On these fellow creatures
With their cringing natures.
Looked down of their maker
And my accuser-God!
In that tread space, number
Invites too night's lone view.
Love's rued; Life's in review.
She was kind
Who hummed beside my bed
Who sanctioned every whim
of feverish thought
racing through my head.
She nursed me
Through cringing hours
Grasping every fleeting strength
I was too weak
to hear her
speak a prayer
Yet I know that she was always there.
the sheer notion of extorted kindness
buried beneath a sorrowful note
of racketeering compassion
above a silent whisper throughout
the queerness of being wise beyond
a tarnished silver spoon of tangible
lessons shattered throughout
blind faith cringing for life after death
Another slow snail day of healing
Carefully I walk and breathe
Hoping soon I'll feel better as the
Electric pillow warms my aching back
Bulbous pain that I cannot restrain
Amasses and attacks my lower back
Cringing I sit as straight and can be
Kenneled with discomfort and ache
9/24/12
Cringing
Letting the comatose spill
Absent of rational thought
Scared into confusement
Scarred
Malevolent darkness
In the bleeding whiteness of vision
Unseen incision
Cutting into the heart of it all
Cult
Crushing under lies thereof
Spilling deceit and death
I will never forget this mess
Reflection
Staggering out of the maze
his mind still swaggers
Mustering up his wit
he shored up his faith
Sulking his present state
he craves this cringing hope
Bemoaning the looming darkness
he detest this fate
Yearning for a reprieve
he is caught
napping on the trail
Winds whip and whistle
past bark of branches bare
collar-cringing cold
winter's whipsaw wares
Frozen faces, fingers
tingling, trembling toes
shivers, shakes, sunken eyes
signal endless woes
A-howling and a-knocking
the nasty night unnerves
the gentle dreams of lovers
nestled in their curves
female collaborator,
passionate romantic lover,
despicable and unforgivable traitor
or cringing victim of horrendous war-rape
they know not.
shave her head
in a grotesque ceremony
of humiliation
they do
nevertheless.
such are the ways of the human,
despicable morally
in group
as she is.
Do you feel safe
Or just feel such a waif
Cringing and afraid
Of another escapade
To react or find
A resolution in time
Will you stand up to it
Finding a place to fit
Does it wrench you
Taking part of your heart too
And how will you return
After your stomach does a double turn.
© Paul Warren Poetry
cringing
beaten
slumped over
nightmares
of revenge --
STRANGLE him
hug mother
for dear life!--
startling awake
nauseous
sweaty
woodpecker foot
relentlessly taps
not my fault
don't hit me...
dinner table food
spasming
mangled by
screams, curses
roars its way
back up
undigested
will I die first
The pain of night, where my heart cries
Into the darkness my eyes wander
The pain of night, of being alone
Is oh so real any given night.
The pain of night, how the silence tortures me
My soul, cringing when the lights go out
Oh the pain of night…
Why do we frolic so?
Pain of night… can’t wait til tomorrow!
3-5-15
There was a rustle
With a madden hustle
We huddled inward
Exhaling all doubts
Thus Cringing
with each fated steps
To unveil your hidden passions
Bestowed by natures’ cravings
Vested by the driven breezy wind
enclosed within a canopy of clouds
Enveloping our world
Causing a bristle
Thus stirring a drizzle
Form:
Confused arising
Seeking, searching, scrutinizing. . .
Succeeding.
Conniving, cutlasses, smirking swords;
Silently mocking, laughing at my doom.
Glaring, glowering, with a gleam in their eye.
Eerie eye patches, sneering smiles;
Sinisterly scheming, anticipating gloom.
Creeping, crawling, cringing. . .
Complete.
Concrete awakening.
Muzzle flashes
the stars shoot straight,
no curve balls, they light you up,
you feel the silver bullets
ricocheting inside the elastic walls
of your cringing red dot of a heart.
Low caliber
but they linger,
bounce around just long enough
for you to know
that according to the long arm
of the Universe
you hardly exist at all.
For A Bleeding Flower of Justice
Like a virgin flower
plucked from an edenic
garden,
justice lies lifelessly
in fields of nightmares—
bleeding bastard blood
of raped miscarriage.
Observers pass by
cringing in disgust—
clinching their innocence
and wiping apathetic brows,
they sigh and move on:
relieved it’s no fault of theirs.