Short Damp Poems
Short Damp Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Damp by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Damp by length and keyword.
The rain has stopped.
Bright sun is peeking through the clouds
Casting light on the wet leaves.
The damp earth sparkles.
whole day's Sun's effect
boosts up our enthusiasm
mind is damp if not
Wet leaves glisten
on the bough.
Crystal dewdrops drip
down, fall slo-mo,
each parachuting
on a tiny halo
to kiss the damp
grass below!
cerulean sea
washes away footprint trail
palm trees sway on breeze
A Nature Themed Haiku with Color Poetry Contest
sponsored by Tania Kitchin
Checked with how many syllables
1/24/20
Camp Must Revamp and Do Make Damp
What is really required for the camp,
Is straighten it out and then revamp;
Put out all fires and do make damp.
This California fire thing has really
become horrendous and tremendous
as well as stupendous.
Jim Horn
Jim Horn
MUSIC FOR DAMP WEATHER
The outlook is for less cloud -
Long damp vista : quiet street
Hiss of tyres, occasional slap of feet.
As discrete notes catch
A melody snatch,
Uncertain wet dark shapes summon
Perspectives long gone.
Now replaced with a clear
Brighter drier path less drear .
grey clouds
like shrouds
hover
cover
wind speed
like steed
fright'ning
lightning
thunder
sunder
cryin'
welkin
raindrops
fat plops
muddles
puddles
pit pat
rhythm that
awakes
damp shakes
earth drenched
thirst quenched
God's free
AC
Immovable object that you see?
Truly not, if you allow it free.
Intolerable silence you hear?
Try softening your sense of fear.
Impersonal, harsh touch of old love?
Therapeutic caress from above.
Inevitable in taste of grief?
Transitioning stages for relief.
Infinite smell of Autumn decay?
Tumbling leaves in dull, damp, dying day.
Your hair smells like the rain,
damp and heavy,
but still so undeniably you.
You sit cross-legged on the floor,
telling me about a dream you had
where we were clouds,
floating somewhere we couldn’t name.
I wanted to ask if it was lonely,
but instead,
I ran my fingers through your hair,
feeling the knots and tangles
like the spaces between us.
On rain drenched mornings
words may feel too heavy
to absorb dense Truth,
May smell too bleached
to taste thin Beauty,
May sound too restrictive
to recreate revolutionary visions.
Yet, absence of words
may sound too drenched
in universal drizzle
to comfort,
to circulate lively blood
for warm interior climate cleansing
Rain water
distilling
tomorrow's more fertile
silent soil
silk skinned soul.
In the fog, odyssey
A cheerful adventurer
Free to be
In dampish autumn weather
Hikes into the hills
Awesome and deep
Watching the leafage sweep
Whilst song birds spill
Into the alone to peep
The only other sound --the break
Of distant waves and warblers awake
The air is raw, with a cold whisper
Many miles to go before any sleep
When sweet dreams come cheap
To a crusading journeyer
Who has promises to keep
November Intrigue--Five Haikus
Moss breathes dampness, near
shifting blankets of old leaves.
Beds of lichen thrive.
Both pure and pungent,
the air is soul-enhancing,
gifting faint wood smoke.
On the forest floor,
Princess Pine grows sweetly
in pristine patches.
Old stone foundations
and a gurgling waterfall
capture heavy mist.
Dark reeds cross the marsh
to a long strand of young spruce,
vivid and spritely.
Early in a damp woodsman's camp
seeing sawyers from a logging town
to stop the conversation bogging down
as asked my age among other things
I replied, 'Cut off my head and count the rings,'
then had to be quick-witted and fast-footed
made a bee-line through the trees
so as not to lose my noggin
when a burly lumberjack grabbed his axe
I ducked and dodged his mighty swing
which (in a nonce) saved my bacon (and my bonce)
and them's the actual facts
Attached segregated I touched his warm skin yet
Deceased He was asleep he was non awaken
He was hidden he was asleep under the sheet he slept
His chest no longer rose I placed the side of my face contemplating
Down by his nose his eyes were shut closed
No breath his soul a spirit risen he was in death
Detached segregated I touched his cool cold skin yet
No breath his soul a spirit risen he was in death
1/5/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2024