Short Crinkled Poems
Short Crinkled Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Crinkled by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Crinkled by length and keyword.
Bits of crinkled purple
somersault
doubling the downfall
of faster falling rain
The hummingbird shows me
her green side
Stardust sprinkles twinkle on top of creamy crinkled cake ~ heavenly!!
15th April 2023
For JCB Brul's "Stardust" contest
Swirling leaves, yellow
brown and crinkled, whirling round
up and round, heaven
bound, up and away, sensing
the spirits of by gone friends
two wrinkled faces
found a crinkled billet doux
smiled with crinkling eyes
Listen to poem:
I lie bedraggled, disheveled,
scrunched up and crinkled,
in a pile,
like ratty raggedy
rag doll,
besmirched,
defiled and exiled,
for being a
spineless,
limp
wimp.
In Spring, a floral clock
Time shows us.
Love's own love-flushed dial!
Fairest smile!
In Autumn, a pale-blown
Leaf's o'replus.
Age's own soured outlook!
Crinkled. Crook.
Come get me
when
consciousness stopa
its slaughter
With my crusty crinkled works stapled to
my chest i will read them to you nad allow
that storm to come out of us
Cool dry breeze blowing
crinkled leaves turn vibrant hues
cedar boughs heavy
Hoo-hoo-hoo mourning
dove, wobbles by window sill
grain seeds most desired
submitted for Images of fall contest
her friend asked her
"did he break your heart?"
she replied,
while staring blankly at her shoes,
and clutching the crinkled note tightly
in her shaking hands,
"what heart?"
She was too numb to know.
my old love nears
heartbeat skips then thumps
crinkled brow leaks
shadows slithering
here, there, nowhere
eyes unblinking
eardrums pulsing
from darkness, whispers tumble
'come, hurry to me'
RA25760309
Written: by Tom Wright
6/23/2006
Time has left me tired and crinkled
I’ve gotten shorter by just a spurt.
I’m dated, tan, worn, and wrinkled
Like a military issue poplin shirt;
The music laughs
piano thoughts
the tiny bird alive you caught
skitters wild across the keys
I hide within your satin sleeves
crepe and crinkled fragile soul
crescendoes gather and enfold
mesmerize me and infuse
a scherzo written by a muse
Scorching sun, baking earth
Wilted flowers, dried shrubs
Vibrant hues of Crape Myrtle
Lively displays of brilliance
Clusters of flamboyant blossoms
White, pink, red, lavender and purple
Crinkled paper resemblance
Astonishing dramatic marvels
finally! He’s home
candy bag on the table
he empties it out
sugar content enormous!
and with one brown crinkled leaf
cool just a light frost
and the goblins are playing
for it’s Halloween
my doorbell rings No one there
smell of sulfur in the air
Observe
the children running
towards the water
trailing their long shadows,
the gold crinkled tops of waves,
hesitating, then breaking into foam,
the blessings of last light
on her face, the sun easing
into a simmering sea, bloated,
slowly devouring itself
to death.
She likes to talk
her voice moves in spiderweb ways
feeling like crinkled newspaper
on a dry desert of a sunday morning
endless threads of chatter
woven tapestry of a ill-fitting sweater
erratic stitching
She likes to talk
but she has nothing to say
my parents were comedians
Dad’s sense of humor was overt
over the top, he flat out laughed like a crow
his eyes crinkled like Santa’s
Mother’s sarcastic wit was undeniable
her delivery was spot on
her quips were sharply honed
before they left her mouth
we kids had no chance of not being witty
folded into her
own crinkled
wrinkled
newsprint self,
delight and enthusiasm rapidly
dissipate
Torn pieces of herself
languish
in her own self-imposed
purgatory
joyless, she sees nothing
of her former light.
In greyscale, her
essence
waits in anguish for
the return of self.
A hot white moon
Against a wickered black
Ignites a gnarled ridge
A cold metal breeze
To strip the trees of summer sleeves
And paint a trace of crinkled red
In darkened hollers
And dried creek bends
And burrows tucked tight
The night rustles news
On punctuated cue
That winter shall be here soon
Summer-scented blueberry breezes
blow briskly, as Autumn tints the trees.
And loose leaves, like crinkled crimson, fall,
as sweet songbirds sing Summer farewell.
And as daylight dims, darkness descends,
while warm winds morph into fickle friends:
scattering snowflakes, at Winter's whim.
Always hopeful in dreams
You can't ask
You can't scream
Free floating thought
Driven by a lesson
Carelessly taught
Dawn brightens another day
What have you learned
What can I say
Crinkled paper haunts the night
Causing shadows
Fear of light
Never show a naked smile
It only stays
A short while
Form:
scented leaves
~*~
fell
from trees
sweet smelling
gold, red, yellow
hues
we
gathered
many crinkled
to press in books
old
_______________________
November 11, 2019
Poetry/lanterne/Scented Leaves
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1198-653-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Your eyes
Your smile
Your words
Have a magic spell
Which I have fallen for you
Your thoughts flooded in my mind
Where I'm out of one's mind
Butterflies jerked their wings in my tummy
Words got hidden
And trembled and uttered
But,
Your not mine
And you no more
Heart crumbled
Brow crinkled
Tears drizzled.
The card hangs above my pillow.
Two dates; 18 years apart
Crinkled notes in my right hand drawer
Doodled hearts in colored pens
Thumb stained photos in a shoebox
Innocent smiles, nervous hands
Simple memories on paper
I keep those hidden and safe
But his card, it hangs above my pillow.
Two dates; only 18 years apart.
Lee had fried her face
She had fried her hair
Sitting in the sun
Outside her beachfront lair
She was all spotted now
Her skin was mottled and wrinkled.
Her face was splotchy like a cow
Her neck was hard and crinkled
You fried your face!
You fried your hair!
This was said by her sister.
Lee replied “I don’t care!”