Short Flotilla Poems
Short Flotilla Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Flotilla by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Flotilla by length and keyword.
Revisit the streets of Wasilla
you'll notice the usual flotilla
of Palins-to-go
who'll put on their show
produced by the Lady Attila.
Trump's followers act like androids
Hate fills them with his opioids
This does us chagrin
We must quickly bring in
A flotilla of Sigmund Freuds
Did Nelson give one scintilla
about France’s silly flotilla?
No! Nor was he bashful at court,
though of the quite gaseous sort,
as his farts smelled of vanilla.
dandelion tufts
a flotilla of pappi
parachuting seeds
(Haiku)
04/23/2020
Let the Pens Flow - Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jenish Somadas
Tangled in hooks and fishing line
the fisheries have thinned
waves coated in mercury.
The flotilla moved inland
away from mercury storms,
from freedom flyers to beggars
on an asphalt sea
screaming
fries- fries- fries!
CHARACTERISTICS
a dedicated
focussed
display
appeared
en tempo
side by side
in
situ
a
seductive
vista with
in vogue
contrasting
hues
a
bathetic
flotilla
with
a surreal
oblivion
tender
&idiosyncratic
in
elicit
mellow
moments
A flotilla of clouds sails across blue skies
to a pink horizon, where Day dies
and a scarlet sun bleeds red
as dark shadows spread.
Sol's sent to
bed
for He's through
weaving light's last thread,
and sleeps, as time flips ahead
to Dawn: and heralding the sunrise:
a flotilla of clouds sails across blue skies.
As kids, summer rains meant bare feet on wet ground.
A flotilla of paper boats were launched and nurtured along
A rain-made stream to a not-to-distant shore.
Mighty sailors we'd become on those days of long ago.
At the finish line some vessels had sunk, some tattered and torn,
But our hearts and dreams were soaked with many summer joys.
Good Morning Grandma.
It really was a hitch free journey
between a tumultuous earth,
and a refreshing dawn
in a glamorous
celestial city.
Conveyed in honour,
on eternity's ship,
in the midst of a flotilla,
each by angels maneuvered.
I do sincerely congratulate you
for your new found bliss.
And as you merry in your
world of paradisation,
be sure to plead our cause
before His Majesty divine.
Form:
A chocolaty moon was rising.
I have lost my riverbed.
Accuser has become accused.
The hangman has shifted
the ground while glistening
in moonlight. Oxymoronic ?
Eponym exited the lips of a drone fly.
A flotilla of tears
dies in an eye of a storm.
An audacity of a drifter
to stop the promiscuous honors
of strangers in death.
Only night-bloomers will watch
the sunrise in eternal lonliness.
The roots will always stay in dark.
Satish Verma
The fantasy vision of a three year old
Expression of wonder he couldn’t hold
Seeing a picture captured on the phone
Thinks it’s not a place in his known zone.
Clumps of cloud drifting in sky one by one
Turn into a fascinating flotilla of flying swan
On their wings latticed sunbeams as fairies rise
Framed in a snapshot of the infantile paradise.
______________
April 10, 2021
Contest : Look At This Place
Sponsor : Mart Caliri
April rains over my body
like a dripping faucet at night
it forms a cold rind around my eyes
and fills a borrowed
dinner jacket
like the double-chin of a
fat, sweaty lecherJohn.
this body's swollen and
the earth turns to sea
around me.
Rosewood; Oak; pine-slabbed flotilla
bobbing downstream
downup, down, up
like the sun-baked summer child
on a sun-hot trampoline:
a diver coming up for air.
We follow the bends in a
slow, unyielding procession
Form:
FEATHERED GALLEONS
Swans - eight white-sailed galleons
Bobbing on the choppy River Boyne,
Without tacking, heading into the wind:
Flotilla - organised, disciplined,
Sailing in line ahead through the spray,
Their feathers fluttering in slight disarray
As they stroked their way upstream:
White eight on a watery light beam.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
NOTE
The River Boyne is a very picturesque river in Ireland.
Newspaper curtains
tea to stain paint
skeletal scorpians
arranged by the bed
Roses and indica rice in a bowl
Willows gone weeping on Japanese scrolls
Candles to floating
Sandalwood breath
Dimly let lit
In a box, frankincense
Books of high learning broke open in spines
set up upon urchins, read into design
Rug, white flotilla
a kiss from the sea
to soften bamboo
on the floor, for our feet
Scene of discovery, resting in wood
like a dream to interpret, long misunderstood.