Short Forecasted Poems
Short Forecasted Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Forecasted by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Forecasted by length and keyword.
Yesterday it all seemed grey
Today my lighter mood has much improved
Tomorrow will be even better
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
There, on the horizon
looms a darkness,
this uncertainty,
an unknown,
the future, inevitable.
Daunting,
imposing,
inexorable.
Fated to suffer,
forecasted pain.
My outcome
resides in the hands
of those so skilled.
the cinnabar moth
a summer diurnal one
check out the ragwort
peppermint stands
mint moths' abundant tiny
summer potatoes
a rambling rose
buds showing waiting to burst
a flowerfly drones
bees not many
some burrowers one or two
campion self-seeds
tis the morrow morn
west is the forecasted wind
southwest for the swifts
Spring rain was forecast,
it came.
showers licking the earth,
also the bald spot on the top of my head.
under my collar, down my back,
skin gets squirmy.
In the store,
I’m thinking of buying an umbrella,
but end up buying Gladioli,
because you love them.
The tall flowers are soaked through
and getting heavy,
I could have forecasted that.
The Crawling…
The quiet night
crawls on—a snail’s pace.
Likewise the lazy snow flakes
seduced by the pull of gravity.
During the day—humility
gracefully exited; power seduced
a whining tyrannical soul: Robbing
it of its sacred humanity.
Forecasted for tomorrow
is uncertain uncertainty.
The quiet night
crawls on:
With insomnia—We
prepare for dawn.
Most of our lives are lived
in an in-between world…
yesterday and tomorrow the bookends
to what has happened
and what is yet to come
ordering the mayhem in an artificial attempt
at unity and control
escape becomes an option for the very few
who no longer believe in the prescriptive banner,
the forecasted promise,
the dogmatic challenge
—or the printer’s ink
(Dreamsleep: October, 2020)
Brain Scan
Diseased dined flu, thoughts rest rain in me,
every storm conceivable my forecasted mentality.
Never quiet, sins confusion wicked wits in use,
short fuse still burning, hot, tempered, amuse.
Brass plaqued new found theory of awarded frustration,
me the unsolved mystery, brilliance guiding madness to temptation.
Complete control over incom[plete thoughts that run astray,
ego-statistically humbled but it's impossible that, I, only think this way...