Short Flecked Poems
Short Flecked Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Flecked by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Flecked by length and keyword.
lifeless phantom floats
moonlit waves of white flecked foam
forgotten relic
By: Eve Roper 7/2/2015
Floating towards new moon--
a blanket flecked in diamonds
slips over the horizon.
A sliver of light over
azure silks blown in the wind.
A sky of fireflies
fills with drizzled meek magic
stars sprinkled in jars
sequin flecked lacy twilight
lending midnight their brief light
3/10/22
Gold flecked silver
A cherished small coin
Does it hold real value?
Russell Sivey
Entrant into Richard Lamoureux's "Questionku" contest
11/29/2012
each breath a chant
to straighten our slant
that we may stand erect
our aura bliss mist flecked
as the universe too conspires
to bestow what our soul aspires
there’s no cause to complain
sun, ripe citrus fruit
sapphire sky flecked with white clouds
tarmac road steaming
June.26.2022
Summer Nature Themed
Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
we see, we sense, we imbibe
assimilation yet awaits
we need to become the vibe
to walk through heaven’s gates
when save essence of presence
there remains no one here
our aura is flecked with stardust
glimmers of truth then appear
journey is ending
tired face flecked with twilight tinge…
spider spins cobweb
March 18, 2019
Syllable count : 5/7/5
Checked on howmanysyllable.com
Contest : Writing Challenge 3 - March 2019-Senryu
Sponsor : Dear Heart
Brushed in days, with most allure
In Summer portraiture
Blazingly shone, if shade-flecked.
Brightsome smiled, if shy-hid!
Therein as their main subject
On that does most reflect
New love, God. For that yet dried is
Was as sweet-lodged amid?
Brown
Simple, earth
My eyes
Hang out with the cat
And they're greenish
Cuddle
Snuggle the small dog
They dig deeper
Grounded in loyalty
Flecked with flakes of gold trust
My mother
My brother though...
How come some are the clear summer skies?
a demon appears and we are it
perhaps a remnant of our past
like a dying snake, it writhes awhile
however this nonevent will not last
perhaps there is no form we were not
it matters little now as we reflect
having embodied light of Self within
our luminous aura is love flecked
The Cross is our crutch: we are lamed and maimed,
Crippling sin in our soul,
Defiled and scourged, our faith defamed,
Golgotha our gloried goal.
The Cross is a bludgeon for smiting down
Death in his sable gown.
It’s Roman-hewn and Jesus-borne,
Encircled with blood-flecked thorn.
The Cross is our crutch: we are lamed and maimed,
Crippling sin in our soul,
Defiled and scourged, our faith defamed,
Golgotha our gloried goal.
The Cross is a bludgeon for smiting down
Death in his sable gown.
It’s Roman-hewn and Jesus-borne,
Encircled with blood-flecked thorn.
White topped waves in the fading light
Like magic carpets taking flight
Draw ceaseless lines across the sea
Incessant soothing harmony.
The sky is flecked with dark grey clouds
Overbearing ominous shrouds
Now all that's left are specks of white
As the day succumbs to the last light.
Dawn rooster's crowing
red and gold cock of the walk
Flecked stars are fleeing.
Pink sky alarms are sounding
as stealthy night goes, creeping.
Perched at verge of day
is cock of the crystal clock.
Blooms are anywhere
on morning of fading moon,
when rouge sun frolics with June.
Perfect poise, love aligned, erect
Soul within our heart glows
With magnetic bliss hues we’re flecked
Auric field slowly grows
Our path is surrender
Playful, childlike wonder
No hearts left asunder
Free from noise
Perfect poise
21-October-2021
Quietus
Swan
Oh! serene spirit,
White gowned on sun flecked waters.
Majestic in your slow glide.
What intelligence
Guides you silently along
The river’s strong flowing path?
Choka 5 7 7 5 7 7
Checked by Howmanysyllables.com
3/01/17
I dream of small mottled rabbits
Sleeping in silver caves under snowy river banks;
I step stone by slippery stone
Across the clear ice-flecked water,
Shall I waken?
Dreaming of marmoset and beaver,
Dreaming Native dreams
Of small, bright-eyes,
Scurrying or cruel but always Bright. . .
a charcoal canvas
flecked with the glitter drops of a painter’s brush
looms above the endless Midwest plains
white-gold illumination
devours my eyes as I gaze upwards. . .
God is an impressionist artist
6/26/14
For the 'Bite Size Poem no.8' Poetry Contest of Line Gauthier
Grass Calls for
More and more
And I water and water.
The Obese: Expires
Hitherto, that grass
Spikingly Winds up by the"Plop, Plop"
Snubbing over the drops.
And Passes.
The Olive Grass
Gawking incessantly out at the flecked Rays
I witness them dance
They post me the murmuring messages
Of the Wind.
Robes of gold and purple
Flecked with a scarlet thread
Poemgranate,gold bells around the hem
Epaulets of onxy,engraved upon each gem.
Jacinth,agate beryl,amethyst
Jasper,diamond and sapphire,
Bedeck this fine attire...
Of a holy priesthood,dressed to serve the king.
Read more @ Exodus 28& I P 2:5 & Rev 20:6
innate creative power
limited by mind
imposes a bind
blocking grace shower
awareness self-aware
bliss replete
is complete
pulsating without a care
soul’s consciousness shift
with God connect
to be bliss flecked
gifts of silence that uplift
immediate and intimate
is the source
our resource
our heart heaven’s gate
Cold rain chuckles
Gurgles down the drain
Counting coup upon
A blurry windowpane
Birds huddle in bare trees
Dare not go aloft
Squirrels still hunt for food
Because the earth’s still soft
Lonely sits a spider’s web
Flecked in diamond dew
Shimmering in winter’s breath
Nor’easter comin’ through
John G. Lawless
©12/16/2022
Glaze the glass and blow
liquid luster, lava flow
Twirl the oven, hallucinate
Clink the cooling 'till it breaks
Make it cobalt, gold flecked muse
Shallow breath to counter fuse
Hollow bubble on sweating metal
Sting of lungs by the great glass nettle
The end is a bauble to be bought by the buyer
Born from the heat from the un-ending fire.
Form:
Drift away, resting, golden wood canoe,
still black water, yellow flecked,
sweet pollen confections.
Idle hours, soft swaddled in sun's warm wrap,
friendly heat, tranquil musings,
lily pad cookies float.
No conflict creases my deep water moat,
peace reigns within my cradle
Mother Earth gently rocks.
© Faye Lanham Gibson, June 18, 2014