Short Flogging Poems
Short Flogging Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Flogging by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Flogging by length and keyword.
we travel for hours and hours
flogging our fossil-fueled powers
when we get there
we are nowhere
as our taste for the present sours
My big ol' rooster,
thought he was cock of the walk...
Until....Red, my hen
ended it all today with
a flogging and loud squawk!..
©Donna Jones
11-11-2013
My dark fantasies are growing bleaker,
Blithely flogging this attention seeker,
Why am I so pissed?
This bore must insist,
To take all his phone calls on speaker.
Oh please don't spank your monkey my friend
Your animosity has no end
Much like flogging a dog
You keep flogging your log
First you spank it, then spank it again
i felt my skin crawl
and a foreign emotion
rise up in me, fury
at this man staring at me
with vapid, glazed eyes
and flogging his private bishop
in his 8x8 concrete room.
Formidable floundering frisky fish followed furiously,
Flogging fourteen flustered freshman froggies
Furious followers filed fine-tuning finesse
Frostily furthering fruitless froggy fortitude.
yeah, right
there where the flower blossoms
and flags
where mustangs rove the prairie
and two nebulas lose their
virginity in a cheap motel
room where you are an
unsaddled bellhop
flogging a dead
idea.
Outnumbered
1756 to one
I stood alone
I stood
Alone
In a culture of music
Unlike anyone else's
Flogging Molly
Scathed my back
With mad plaid in my mind
And Was Beder Das
Youth of rebellion
I stand true.
Flogging
as punishment
confessed adultery
the lover pleaded not guilty
- coward
ISIS-K blew up a girls' school*
al-Qaida claim flogging is cool
No girl is worth
A clump of earth
Wherever the Taliban rule
Jihadists strive to be lanky
To decapitate a Yankee
If Allah were judge
Would He prefer fudge
To another bloodstained hanky?
*whilst school was in session!
indonesian beaches and
days of infinite hunger
drunk and repellent
I am again
there’s no time for fishy flattery
'cause god called a horseman
flogging a dead horse
outlaw of the oscillation nation
playing with matches
by the gas-works
and I have this foreboding
of foreign foods
and fishmonger hooks
the white bark pine
bends windwards
the west wind
roars in from the west
mercilessly flogging
flurries of snow
the white bark pine
turns away
and doesn’t want to know
it does not have to swivel
and twist through human debris
it just must ride the winter
arthritic as it is
and show up living white
in next year’s summer sun
without articulation
of twisted pain
The intrigues, the twists
unravel the woven threads
of the mystery. Traumatized
and dazed, I play-
dice with the unknown to
find out the truth.
Confronting the purpose
of existence,
you come out of the flesh
after flogging-
and start dancing
with bones.
Extremely poor,
you play the hand
and fail.
Elsewhere someone
climbs on the pole
and sets the house on fire.
Satish Verma
Pulling teeth seems more appealing
than the squeaky reeling, the howling
experience, of the flogging date
I had with you; like catfish to bait.
Cracked my skull wide open.
Can’t think, can’t explain the straight pin
lobotomy I received from a kiss,
which, at first, brought cosmic bliss.
I thought my rocket expelled
into love space rather than Hell.
Had I known what I know now,
I would not have kissed the cow.
(A metaphor for the U.S. involvement in Iraq.)