Short Dead End Street Poems
Short Dead End Street Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Dead End Street by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Dead End Street by length and keyword.
Walking in circles
Of depression
Silence the ever present killer
On the cul du sac
Of life
Inspired by the Rat Pack
Life ground to a halt
living down a dead end street
where there's no sunlight
and shadows of doubt linger...
Till your love blew them away.
© Harry J Horsman 2021
Poetry fails
when forced to explain
A dead-end street
with little to gain
Stripped of meaning,
one proffer to name
Magic and wonder
dead,
self-proclaimed
(St. David’s Pennsylvania: March, 2021)
If you are wandering into a dead end street
All out of hope
No one to guide you
Let your instinct take whole
A spirit will complete you when you allow
So if you don't have a clue who it is
Just be greatfull and take the bow
Form:
In the dead end street
with the eye of mouse
staring at the cat
To resist
upon
restraint and difference
In misery and dread
To taste
hope's bitter rod
To understand neighbors
over the river of disgrace,
To deny to be sacrificed
to ideology
These things are philosopy.
A pack of leaves at the end of a dead-end street.
Whirling without warning, surrounding invisible things.
Like a pack of wolves chasing a hobbled elk
Suddenly they are perfectly still...feasting.
If they had teeth, I think they would bite me.
A pack of leaves at the end of a dead-end street...
is a lot like grief.
Born of perdition’s rage
and damnation
his life was spent in vain
Orphaned by every dead-end street
where darkness hides
the greatest pain
Fear his lone relation
among shadows
with no escape
Living disowned on burial row
cursing each gravestone
—dying in place
(The New Room: September, 2023)
When she stops to think,
All the lost dreams, time gone,
Messed up memories,
She can't handle reality,
Always searching an escape, running away,
Running to another dead end street,
The dead end street,
Another line makes us feel,
Happiness that isn't real,
This dead end street,
Wrong turn to fake satisfaction,
Numb souls, blissful intoxification.....
'Follow your dream'
easier said than done
as the girl of my dreams
for me she is the only one
and yet for her I don't exist
she sees through me sad to say
don't have what (it) takes her fancy
won't even look my way
as ships which pass in the night
our two hearts will never meet
I find mine's a dead-end dream
on the wrong side of a one-way street
DEAD END STREET
It’s where I once lived
On a dead end street
As I try to think back
That road just ended
It was just like my life
When hope ran out
And there at the end
In a tall rusting fence
A locked metal gate
Part hidden in the trees
And I could make out
A path leading away
Perhaps to a realisation
That wherever that led
Was where I had to be
But I never had the key
To what may have been
she smiles in the shadows
of the dead end street
living her rag doll life
the only femme fatale
of our mannequin town
a midnight detective
going down the low road
a butterfly at the crime scene
alone in the evening breeze
her night talk full of
wallpaper poetry
her velvety voice
singing the drunken bird songs
her troubled mind
full of murmurations.
I’m so happy I could die
lifting her veil in the storm
so let’s dream a little.
For a new job one day, I drove fast.
I was late and the city was vast.
With no GPS,
I just had to guess
how to get there as minutes flew past.
Some shortcuts I tried. Time so fleet
I swore wouldn’t see me be beat.
Aha, it is here
I cried with great cheer,
till I saw it was a dead-end street.
A U-turn I made right away.
Still lost, I was filled with dismay.
My new job I lost,
but worse was the cost
of the gas I used that one day.
I got up early this morning
as I have a job
I went to look at the sea
as one person waits
they said that loneliness is difficult
as easy to be with people
I heard a song
as my life
I found it's note
I am looking for as it
they said that love is drunkenness
music will not return as head
I went into a dead-end street
as there is no a road
I asked what I lost
as anyone knows
they said that astonishment is from live
they think as I lived
Blood on the street and blood in the drains,
Lifeless bodies laying ‘bout the dead end street,
Strange odour coming from the corpses crib.
Unpleasant scene of the awful truth,
The bloodshot eyes and the twisted youth,
Scent of burnt skin, foul and stench,
Then the crackling sound of ones burnt flesh.
What is the reason for the killer to commit?
For the knife to slit, murderer ought to admit,
For the victim to rot, to lay in just one spot,
Sure is a strange and gruesome plot.
Form: