Short Folds Poems

Short Folds Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Folds by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Folds by length and keyword.


Premium Member With Blinders On

God carved him from his finest cloth.
He gave and gave.
They drank his broth.
Most unaware of what was given,
with blinders on they kept on living.


Time Folds

Time folds inwards,
like paper cranes in cosmic flight.
Time folds inwards—
a twist of clocks in glass-bound wards,
its orbit skewed by quantum might.
We dream in loops by neon light—
Time folds inwards.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member NIGHTIME FOLDS

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The crow pecks at the moon's reflection~ a hunger older than the river. Night folds itself into origami, while the stars whisper in braille.
Form: Other

Premium Member Curves Contours Vale Mounds And Folds

Curves valleys mounds and folds
A sweeping landscape we choose to travel 
And enjoy to linger for a time
Whenever we can
To us and our companion
To the High peak of satisfaction
And release mounting tension
In the pleasant valley below

A much-needed vacation
Then it's back to work 
Again.
© Peter Dome  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Folds of White

The hills are clothed in gleaming folds of white,
With flow'rs, whose heady fragrance fills the air:
The spring has come, the sun pours out his light
On three small children playing without care.
The girl weaves knots of flowers in her hair,
Her brothers tumble down the hills and play;
They each enjoy the spring their special way.


{January 3d, 2014}


In the Folds of Madness

I cannot see the trees,
nor a single leaf,
nor the grass that ripples like water
in some half-forgotten dream,

dear people, I cannot see at all,
no one,
nor full recall:

the meaning of laughter, 
the miracle of love,
the warmth of a smile, 
skin, the otherness

of a lover, of a friend, of family,
even strangers, people...

I am blind, 
lost in the folds of myself,
in the folds of madness

Beneath the Folds

Beneath the folds within the brains
Of some of us exist remains
Of early traumas, tucked away
And if we’re lucky, there they’ll stay.

Yet if we aren’t, they’ll sneak through
And possibly provide a clue
To why some triggers make us snap
As if we’ve stumbled on a trap.

That knowledge, though, won’t be enough
To call that bottled genie’s bluff
For once he’s gone, it’s time to deal
With what his breakout does reveal.
Form: Rhyme

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