Short Curs Poems
Short Curs Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Curs by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Curs by length and keyword.
The war-dogs chew at the throat of Man,
Killing as canines can,
With drooling jowls and fetor that fouls
The air, with harrowing warrior-howls--
They herald the End with their yelps and yowls.
Categories:
curs, war
Form:
Verse
Dogs
loyal, friendly
licking, playing, rescuing
companions, sentries, threats, enemies
barking, biting, mauling
mean, mangy
Curs
Categories:
curs, anger, devotion, dog, friend, violence,
Form:
Diamante
Tap, tap, tap-
sudden flash,
ripping of air-
crash!
Tap, tap, tap-
wheels forever-
a'turning,
encaged-
crash!
Tap, tap, tap-
constant tapping!
Curs-Crash!
Cursed tapping!
Caged fate,
tap, tap, tap-
Crash!
There is no rain...
Categories:
curs, adventure, confusion,
Form:
Free verse
Jagged like spurs, harshness of curs
Relying on instinct
Spewing slurs, heart’s radiance blurs
Roaming ego’s precinct
We flounder in stupor
Rabid desires anchor
Enmeshment in rancour
Ragged
Jagged
11-September-2021
Quietus
Categories:
curs, introspection, muse,
Form:
Rhyme
Catch for us the foxes,
the little foxes
that ruin the vineyards,
our vineyards that are in bloom.
Identify the sons of *itches
Those littered curs
Whose gluttonous manner
Leaves naught for us and ours.
Catch for us the greedy
The avarice few
Who take that which is earned
collectively with toil and tears.
Categories:
curs, religion
Form:
Quatrain
Femur sighs, given a break and transformed by love.
— by poet (inspired by Ira Byock)
What’s worse than an illness, an accident?
Imagine with me
helpless in the abyss…
Open to the curse of curs.
No warm or cold compress
No caress
No handkerchief
No matter how hard you have it,
if surrounded by compassion,
you’re not as broken.
Categories:
curs, care,
Form:
Free verse
In an hour a thousand pass
Doctors, lawyers, truck drivers
Small and fat,
A straggly cat.
Six ladies in elegant furs
Two little boys chasing curs
A tottery, old man with a cane
The same scraggly cat again.
The local newsboy laden down
Big and small,
A runaway ball,
The corner cop awaiting the strike
Five o'clock, the rush hour jam
Wondering who I am
What I'm doing--
Categories:
curs, perspective, places,
Form:
Rhyme
As times have grown yet still unknown the boundaries of our excistance, we are all alone. From death to birth we remain on the earth to understand what our life is worth. Midlife crisis, cuts and gashes, midnight sky curs, and turns to ashes. Is it a dream? Or is it a lie? From what I have built up, Im going to die. Thinking grasps the loop of which reality sways, back and forth in our dreams confusing my days.
Categories:
curs, art, depression, life, sad, teen,
Form:
I do not know?
Sunday Morning
Puddles on cobblestones
Had a film of spent
rainbows,
clouds rested on rooftops
and tear streaked windows misted;
dejected curs
sniffed the air as a damp army
of washing hung limply on balconies.
Church bells peeled
the faithful prepared for mass,
unseen and
under arches the tormented
waited for the bar
to open and release them
from the agony of
their lonely inferno.
Categories:
curs, autumn, beauty,
Form:
Blank verse
Within a catcher, dreams do scream
feathers redeem
man's sullied soul
sweet dreams the goal
Within their vanes they transfix
each demon lick
each channeling's
imaginings
Within the web they flutter, curs
nightmare mutters
beaded offerings
each feather sings
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Contest: Just a Minute!
Date 10/20/12
*It is believed that the origin of the Native American dream catcher (or Indian dream catchers) is from the Ojibwa Chippewa tribe.
Categories:
curs, native american, dream, dream,
Form:
Rhyme
No? You don't have pity on me? You should!
I'm sure you'd rather be a stick of wood
Food that doesn't smell so good, if you could
~ Rather than be me ...
Spend your days rained on, snowed on
Hailed on, stepped on -- why stop here? --
Spat on, urinated and dumped on
~ Sniff my coat of rancid beer
What I've suffered, what I have endured
From yellow rivers to cursed curs' turds --
The very thought of it all is too gross for words
Categories:
curs, abuse, assonance, senses,
Form:
Personification