Short Droned Poems

Short Droned Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Droned by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Droned by length and keyword.

i tried
to give
    you a

ring
but the
phone

droned
on and
i like

a fool
filled
my ears

with con
tinuous
ringing

© Jeff Connelly  

Some dull professor droned
		And from my heart
		Right to my pen
		In cursive sprang
		This lovely name,
		Notebook margins filled:
Kelly 
Kelly
Kelly

© David Bose  

Sound
of the birch-
urged some tardy traveler
along the flowery path to drowsy nooks.

Gleamed,
the dark moat and
the castle walls droned.
Wind moan'd, disbranching a sliver of wood.

(©Gautami Phookan.All rights reserved)

© Gautami Phookan  

the daily news droned on and on
    as hope gave way to gloom
  every ray of sunshine doused
    by raindrops spitting fumes

  war and murder everywhere
    no part of earth untouched
  I pulled my hood up over my head
    the burden was too much

© Gershon Wolf  

an incessant bore
he droned on and on and on …
where’s my gaffer tape!

Based on experience at our meal out last night – he dominated the conversation at our end of the table and then didn’t stop twittering on even during the talk on the Chinese New Year. 

01/26/18

© Jan Allison  

Scathing,
and sharp,
it was her harp,
it registered,
with shrill overtones,
as if an irritating fly droned,
it canned in these sounds,
inside my mind,
I kept canning them,
days after days,
till I was full to seams,
and ready to explode,
and explode I did,
with all sound on her quietly slid.

© Shishir Gupta  

As I kneel down to this great monolith a black rectangle tablet has droned in through boundless space. My eyes rose with tears precipitating. A blinking of coup d'œil of a great being calling as an adherent red glowing goo comes trickling down my chin and neck from the bottom of my lip. For I see the birth of an old universe beyond invisible walls. and  god calling was an earless wolf serpent with many quills and arms.

© Silas Clairmont  

2135,
Crest Hill Drive,
In the summer of ‘79,
We arrived,
stifling heat,
Sandburs in our feet,
At Joseph Keels,
I started 3rd grade,
After school,
In the street we played 
Cicadas droned all night,
Bats chased insects at twilight,
Gamecocks weren’t very good,
But Atop college football,
George Rogers stood,
Flea market every Sunday,
To try and make ends meet,
The tragedy of suicide,
Of the man across the street,
Such are my memories of,
2135,
Crest Hill Drive

JEV

© Jim Vandevelde