Short Gables Poems
Short Gables Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Gables by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Gables by length and keyword.
A Yorkshire terrier in Coral Gables
should be honored in Aesope’s Fables
When a brat stole her bone
she ate his snow cone
Moral: Your victim just might turn the tables!
I live in a house of seventy gables
With twenty kitchens and as many tables.
It's good for both winter and summer weathers,
'Cuz, in Spring, it flies - it's made of feathers!
Fifty-six years her beauty's heart did glow; a nineteenth century
Love song amid eastern skies northern lights; she danced as dwelled
In dreams these possibilities ? Clandestine, verses sublime gables rhyme
Of sweet perfume, and timeless time; singsongs, choirs, your carriage awaits...
Segue Juliet, this music she plays; parallel, heirlooms her love his, corsage; we kiss.
Form:
Golden water glittering through
delicate weeping willow leaves
Swans swimming on the lake
Grand house on top of the hill
neatly framed with many trees
Shingled roof peaked gables
Large arched windowed eyes
Carpeted flowers staircases
Marble floor, chequered hall
Dining room living room den
Settee Louis XVI parlor chair
Deep yellow blue pink letter
Clatter of six sets of hoofs
Each May, the month of Mary, I believe?
To stables gables, wondrous nests to weave.
20 years espial by precious broods,
Amidst the beasts of burden,
yet unmoved.
Alas, the chestnut lad is here no more,
His brave old heart, no longer to endure!
My only solace now, a sweet refrain
Assuredly, to know he has no pain
With deep regret I’m suddenly aware
No Summers with swallows, hereafter,
shall we share.
Some old wooden houses are deep,
they have columns and porticos,
piazza, loggia, gables, and cupola.
There rooms are arboreal
they knot. curl and jut outward
as the limbs of a still treeing houses.
Once in a house like this,
I recalled the broadleaf woods of my childhood,
a memory that rocked me gently
in its timbered embrace.
I came to know that depth of my life,
its internal architecture
one room grown from another -
the many mansions.
Quote: "Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?” — L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables
Old age is a number filled with many years,
some with cheers,
some with tears.
I have worn my life with a guard,
now near the graveyard.
I have paid my past debt.
"Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?"
I can now daydream,
with a big smile and esteem,
no more mistakes is my new theme.
From the wrought iron gables
the oblong hummingbird feeder dangles
shiny plastic, strawberry lip-gloss red.
It sways above my grandmother’s head
as she watches their vibrating wings.
She rests at the kitchen sink,
puts down her dishtowel, and smiles.
I want to ask if she is tired of housewifely trials,
but the cat leaps to the window, hissing,
waking my grandmother from her reminiscing.
She goes back to the dirty dishes, alone;
silence is the new partner in her half-empty home.