Short Factory Poems
Short Factory Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Factory by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Factory by length and keyword.
Village School empty
boys engaged bundle matchsticks
in the village Match factory
My child has no toys
They were all made in China
And broke in one day
My child is in therapy
All his life
And has been divorced twice
Form:
Eat the dessert first,
balance be damned
The icing to start
—your cake to withstand
(Las Vegas-Cheesecake Factory: January, 2016)
The human brain
has an organelle
.
that stacks heartbeats
end to end
and synthesizes time.
.
We are conscious
because we
make moments.
There’s Wicked Weasel
the bikini factory.
Look at their website.
Women found throughout the world
display their beauty online.
I, jam maker in factory,
must make jam all day long.
I fill up jars sturdily, I do.
My name is Jan, yes Jan Annette -
a mere jam maker to you.
I found a bone
By the gas works wall
Dreamed a dream
By the old canal
I gnawed that bone
By the factory wall
Dirty old bone
Dirty old bone.
In the ether's are
Energies, soul essences
Awaiting bodies.
God fills all orders;
Especially newborns in
Very little time.
On my first day in a car factory
A simple girl threw herself at me
I guess I was standing
Too close to the landing
Of the car filled with crash test dummies
The quotability factory of what I say
Rarely bothers me at all in current day.
For the older I get the less I am heard.
My most valuable legacy? My written word.
She works in accounting at the factory,
loves counting numbers and her salary,
she has it made,
till she got weighed,
obviously hates counting calories.
11-20-16
You Ain't got pity
Just imagine if you were a screwdriver
manufactured at craftsman tool factory
and you spent your whole life in a tool box tray
never to be used jb49
This one's a giggle, ain't no other reason
Hang on to your panties, it's happy time season
Frowns are frowned on
Grab your baton
Conduct your laugh factory afore ya get eaten
Grandma Gertie knocked back more than a few
When, of a sudden, she heard herself 'moo' --
I can hold my liquor!
She burped, and then snickered --
She 'neighed' ~ Off to the factory for glue
They toil away
unacknowledged and unseen
working day and night
fleecing the scene
they know all your ins and outs
steadfastly collecting
everything
they can on you... Meet
The Lint Factory Inc.
Oliver Twist
Great Expectations
A Christmas Carol
author Charles Dickens
worked in a boot-blacking factory at age twelve
after father was sent to debtor’s prison
campaigned vigorously for children’s rights
Two things at once can both be true
A trial you passed, a verdict past due
No longer in thrall,
A demon recalled
Will cease to have power over you
—————
H/T to Robert Gorelick’s The Recall Demon
In the jam factory
it is over-sweet, and here I miss
rare sweetness - you.
------------------------------------
1/26/2016
Contest - Strand Select 12
Sponsor - Brian Strand
3rd place win
A Question
Is Santa Claus
A paedophile
Surrounded by elves
No women
Work in Santa`s
Factory
I find
His interests in children
Is suspect
Grooming them
To become gift giving
Adults
Keeping his business going
*Image of Time Travel Dream Factory by Pixabay.
Time
~~
quandary
quantitate
quietism
~~
2021 July 15
*3rd Place*
In Just A Few Words 2
~~Joseph May: Judged 2021 July 17
Ambling and ankling on red brick and cobblestone
gone are your cottons and calicoes.
Factory skeletons repurposed,
phantom workers operate
Ghost looms in condo kitchens.
The sun sets like a watermelon dashed
off the Moody Street Bridge.
(First published in The Ravi 2015)
I flee the jaws of Time's story
As they snip me apart twig by twig
Black Roses nesting
In the flesh that was broken
Sand sweeps in, questing
Eternity's whittling me down to a sprig
An Enting lost in a paper factory
office workers
factory workers
worker bees
construction workers
lunch lady workers
worker bees
doing the same job
all over and over and over and over
repetition bees
could I be one?
not any more
but I was at one time
redundancy
infuriates
me
Mist covered tall trees
Myna on a wire
Sunshine mugged by clouds
Smoke of factory
Road snaking uphill
Cold numb fingers
Chill wind on face
Dry thirsty throat
Eyes yearning more
Humming wind
Rustling leaves
My breathing
Wet soil
Wet wood
Bread
A worker's plight
In a big factory
To lower the head and work for hours
Cannot see, cannot hear, cannot gossip, cannot interfere
Just like an instrument
In an instrument box
Seated a fixed place
Do a fixed job
Waited to be taken out
Or else become useless