Short Cutlass Poems
Short Cutlass Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Cutlass by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Cutlass by length and keyword.
my throat could be cut
open guts, but not gutless
with crystal cutlass
the tongue might be bold and wise
rain pours from skies; no disguise
Penn's Aunts, patch-eyed women
Cutlass carried, pistol too
You mess with Sean,
They mess with you
Give his movie a bad review,
You'll walk the plank,
That's what they'll do.
There is once a boy who went to farm to cult bush
Without cutlass on his hand,he has
Reached the farm before
He remembered
He was forced to used his mouth to pluck the bush
.
Copper tone tan
that contemptible soul
not even my cutlass
her knowing its quickness
to make cutlets
cured her cravings for
me to complete
counting sundays
CUNNILINGUS
Tilled me
Tilled me
Use cutlass
Use engines
I am in abundance
Use me as you will
But keep me
Natural
Keep me organic
Plant plenty of tubers’
Plant plenty of cereals
Plant plenty of bulbs
Plant plenty of suckers
Good harvest
You will have
Food at plenty
Natural food
Food for all.
After my first cutlass slash,
I had hit upon a bloody nervy sash,
And had fainted half,
Rest of the scene was in delirium,
A nightmare and a dream,
I was discovered by house help,
Who couriered me to medical help,
I am treated in stomach and mind for the wound,
And out of depression,
For a life that abounds.
you cant use a knife
to weed a farm
you can use the cutlass
to peel a yam
it easier to cross the river
than to cross the sea
the tree of positivity
bears a fruit of liberty
and the tree of negativity
bears the fruit of abomination
to the righteous the beauty of life
is to live perfection
so create no destruction
and cleave for devilish solution
Adept in riling.
You cannot chew the thoughts.
There was no mandible.
This double-edged
cutlass. The curvy contour
brings you to a hole. You
spray a defoliant to
denude the trees.
Naivete.
Who was competent enough
to disconnect the sparring
bulls. Disingenuous, you
were not interested to –
design a stillness as a
requiem for the trailing dazzlers.
Satish Verma
Ye dirty son of a sea dog
Ye rotten pile o' bones
Ye'll see the end o' me cutlass
I'll intrrroduce ye to Davey Jones
Ye'll not be getn me treasure
For Ive the map ye see
Ill set ye adrift in a leaky skiff
And food for fish ye'll be
Me chest be filled wi diamonds
And rubies, pearls and such
But ye'll be treadn water
Me treasure ye wont touch
My ode to pirates everywhere..
Ye dirty son of a sea dog
Ye rotten pile o' bones
Ye'll see the end o' me cutlass
I'll intrrroduce ye to Davey Jones
Ye'll not be getn me treasure
For Ive the map ye see
Ill set ye adrift in a leaky skiff
And food for fish ye'll be
Me chest be filled wi diamonds
And rubies, pearls and such
But ye'll be treadn water
Me treasure ye wont touch
My ode to pirates everywhere..
Yo ho ho and a bottle of wine;
Your heart will be mine.
You will make me walk the plank;
Because on your love I can bank.
Me heartie, I be coming for you.
Brave a cutlass battle, through and through.
Secret isles we will go a-sailing.
Give me another kiss, never failing.
Land ahoy, here I am looking for your treasure.
A map of your heart is my only pleasure.
I will find ye, that will be my lot;
Because X marks the spot.
I'm a briny whore
wit' reekin' drawers
me honor ter make yer acquenchance
th' skipper's maid
me port's decayed
one doubloon, yer seafarin' urchin?
Yer scurvy rat
a-crawl wit' gnat
orf seadog scourged wit' rabid
yer cannon's immense
'tis cocked 'n tense
yer cutlass be yearnin' me scabbard
Yer stench o' sewer
me bits'll chew yer
bumps 'n boils 'n rottin' flesh
yer britches singe
yer helm unhinge
ter boot yer hornpipe thump 'n thresh
2013-11-20
May be guns are self-explanatory
for already something is something
or cute cutlass and one local farmer
hoe or digger?
or somehow a carpenter hammer
or nail?.
The reason may be still self-
explanatory- can we only
rely on contemporary or sometimes
harking?, the west woke up
in the morning and born
the west said nothing except
a passion for memory and joy
how should we then smother and smother?.
The successful teacher
Sees in every pupil rough bushes
Dotted with flowers of the future
He guides the pupil to weed out
The witch weeds with hoes and cutlass
to enhance flowering and fruition
The successful teacher
adds earthworms underneath
for farmyard manure for growth
But those who fail in the job
add fire to the bushes in the pupil
what a lamentation for society follows!
Tame the bushes in them
the measure of success is simple
teacher deteriorates as his pupils rise