Short Eight Poems
Short Eight Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Eight by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Eight by length and keyword.
eight tolls of the bell
I wait in the pause
to hear six more
even her death knell
has kept Aunt Nell's age secret
Emotions poured out
Thoughts bound together and shelved
Dreams shared on paper
By Robb A. Kopp
All Rights Reserved © MMX
CUBES HAVE EIGHT CORNERS
Dice have three dimensions
Opposite faces total seven
Luck represents a fourth
Winning is finding Heaven
Hanging For Eight
By: Tom Wright
6/3/2006
life's like a Bull ride
It’s a jump, whirl, buck, and spin
And quickly over!
Only one remains,
Still committed to the cause
That had brought him there.
Therefore, the ninja
Stands before the Samauri
And a certain death.
What shall be number
one oh eight?
Two carts shall slide across a metal slide!
But not yet! There they sit undisturbed!
And now the ball remains!
Sun;
sizzling sentinel of the skies,
scorcher of worlds,
sits in splendour;
shooting sublime shadows across the
speckled sheet of time.
08/03/15
untitled HAIKU, July
spring passed in hospital
at home my things sorted in eight trunks —
am I dead?
—————————————————————————-
(c) sally Young eslinger
I've never before made it fit,
For eight rhymes in one line to sit.
Though it isn't wise,
I'd best stick with pi(e)s,
Smit wit quit, lit grit spit Brit ... snit.
Dear mother
Worn out
Doth smother
Her daughters
With boredom
And nothing to do
Dear father
No doubt
Won’t bother
To listen
To daughters
For he’s tired too
I am grateful for for knowing the eight words
in life that if spoken…will take everybody far…
And I’m grateful to repeat them often:
I love you just the way you are.
Verse is simple
Everything in rhyme
Rather elementary
Success in every line
Everyone who enters
In this competition
Eight lines are all that's wanted
So enter your submission
Darkness wasn't around
because it was still all unknown.
Love wasn't around
because it still had to be shown.
Nothing i knew and nothing knew me.
Until eight days into February.
Form:
one word can capture them
it captivated them
expectations collapsed
all is well when all is written
we thrived, in the midst of her anxieties, her pride.
( 8 )
Six-Eight-Zero
Empty again
For the third time today
The woman says
There’s nothing to fill it
Why do I come back
Checking for a chance?
There’s only on explanation
I’m hopelessly hopeful
Form:
in a series of stops and starts
on bouncing back and broken hearts
vicious cycle of love and hate
all you want can blame your fate
each time i close my eyes, i see
someone struggling, fighting, it's me
Tonight, we have a date.
I can take you out for something great.
Please don't make me wait.
I hope you are not late.
I will pick you up at eight.
inspired by another member's poem
It’s been eight years, and it still feels the same
As it was then, I seem to have no aim
Peer pressure
That of a fresher
Searching for my own claim to fame.
Seven, Eight
There was a young boy
from North Devon,
Looked proud,
for he could count up to seven.
With a hearty well done,
I told him, that’s great,
But chuckled to myself,
cos, I can count up to eight.
Morning light,
pulsing across a screen
like the live thing it is,
tells us come in from darkness,
O mortal, and into the im-
mortal, as leaves
transposed in it
thrust forth veins,
call to their trees
to grow tall.
Eye just sat down to PEN this on my three million dollar free computer and eye
removed a jacket and three hats and gloves can you guess mye gentle reader
where eye was wearing them.
YES upon the bus.
But the
Younderward yokel yap
Yore Yorkshire yield yeager york-felow
Yak yiddle
Yammer yack yells
Yard yew yellows
Yellow-tails, Yellowhammers
Yonder yellowfin
Yellow yam yesterdays
Yuca, yogurt
Yesteryears years
Yours
I was born with eight bullets in my soul
a small target on a hazy horizon
eight shots to leave my mark
eight shots to get it right
eight shots for a bullseye.
Now I've got one bullet left
to blow a hole through this life.
Sad Detritus It In Eight
Sam Adams looked back
at the lost loves
Failed opportunities
And monolithic blues
That he concluded
Was the sad detritus of his life.
He sighed and went out
To the Cosmos bar for another drink.
Eight wizened words to elicit thoughts mordacious.
Not shackled to the horde, a trifle bit audacious.
The cartridge to loiter, waiting, bored, to fire out rhymes vexatious.
March 23 2017. For John Hamilton's Eight word challenge.