Short Forlornly Poems
Short Forlornly Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Forlornly by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Forlornly by length and keyword.
Nick was good at the steeple chase
he thought of himself as an ace.
But he became too proud
and in front of a crowd
fell forlornly flat on his face.
Once, a lonely number three
sat forlornly on my knee.
In his eyes, I saw despair
as he was sitting there.
"You needn't sniffle, cry or pout.
I too have been the odd man out."
Our dogs have a pen twelve times bigger than a shed
They romp, jump, and frolic until their faces are red
But this is only if their mama is inside with them
If I am out, they wait forlornly, at the gate of this pen
The boat sails through the mist.
Sounding its horn forlornly.
Its weary crew bound for home.
Salt stained and sweaty.
Seeking the loving embrace of wives and children.
And a comfortable chair-
Next to a roaring fire.
Green and orange cover. Sitting forlornly with teeth marks.
The Magic of Thinking Big.
Other pages lying in bits, strewn from bedroom to living room.
Thank you Buddy.
Was that my good shoe? Joe asks as he walks past.
Buddy is whipping chunks of the sole out onto the carpet.
That depends, I say.
Was your good one the right one or the left one?
The trees outside my window
Are in their budding phase,
With newborn leaves and blossoms
In their early spring displays.
I gaze at them forlornly,
Behind a pane of glass
And hope they aren’t autumn-like
Before this all shall pass.
Though fall’s my favorite season,
Those rusts and golds, I think,
Won’t dazzle near as much without
Their prior greens and pink.
Too impassioned more forlornly flower, does the turning dais merit another brother from which hails the borderline snowy hail, that which emotes so white that one mistakes the ink for snowcones, the pen for flavor? I should only curse the forewarning of any haunted house the suitor exiled the forsworn blouse a billowing willow fades with time, time-travel indeed, two sick swines.
Impaled
On your barbed tongue
Insults glistening with spite
Against your heart of thorns, bleeding
Mine crying impaled tears
A nail through our love
Impaled forlornly with cupids’ arrow
Poisoned by cruel words
A dream promised impaled by abuse
Written: 7-28-2019
Anthony Slausin Impaled Poetry Contest n/a
Entered into John Hamilton n/a contest 8-9-19 3rd place
In the dim and distant past
Long before I wed my wife
I had encyclopaedias
For those questions in my life
I’d look to them for answers
And I’d find them all with ease
One quick consultation
And solutions were a breeze
But now they sit forlornly
On the bookshelf in the hall
They gather dust and cobwebs
And are never used at all
My reference books redundant
They just sit there and they rot
Never to be used, because
She knows the bloody lot
joyfully pursuing nothing today
no plan
no schedule
no worries
no cares
my car sits forlornly
she misses me
I do not care
this retirement gig is delightful
I can sit in one spot for days
and I do
until Dr. G begins talking about blood clots
that go to your heart and kill you
when you sit for too many hours
I walk up the hill one time
hoping that is enough
because I want to sit in a recliner
and watch TV, paint or write poems
joyfully pursuing nothing today
Our car must wonder why the heck
It isn’t being used.
Cosmetics in my make-up drawer
Are equally confused.
My pocketbook forlornly sits,
Sure it’s been left behind.
My brand-new jumpsuit in the closet’s
Crowded and confined.
My MetroCard and cash are tucked
Inside my wallet’s folds,
Perplexed at never leaving,
Stuck inside their stuffy holds.
I must be going crazy
Thinking ‘bout these lifeless things
But when boredom is the way of life,
Some merriment it brings.
She walks the streets of this vast city,
looking in alleys and corners gritty.
Hoping to find love's tender smile,
but instead finds loneliness in all the miles.
He roams the streets of this vast town,
staring forlornly at the dirty ground.
Despair has taken its final hold.
The lack of her love has left him cold.
They pass each other on their way,
neither having a single word to say.
Two empty lives drifting aimlessly,
wanting a love that will never be.
My whirligig requires wind
So when the day is calm,
It sits there quite forlornly
Like it's lacking in aplomb.
But when the gusts are squalling
And the trees are pirouetting,
My whirligig starts spinning
And, oh, what a show I'm getting!
It has concentric circles
So it twirls in two directions.
The faster that it goes, the more
It gains in my affections.
Today the wind's cavorting
As I watch in pure delight
While my whirligig goes whirling
Like it's gearing up for flight.