Short Gleans Poems
Short Gleans Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Gleans by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Gleans by length and keyword.
I wrote a poem, but don't know what it means.
Its mystery is what the reader gleans.
Now, its meaning is infused,
unless the reader is confused,
and the poem is blown to smithereens.
seamless gravitas
buoyant in its thin repose-
symbiotic bliss
every breath gleans earth’s release
manna from a mother’s sigh
12 May 2016
sunnier than the sun
her disposition is golden
she exudes rays of happiness
enthusiasm gleans forth
she spins and twiirls us easily
she is invincible, powerful, funny
a miracle, who lights up the sun
Grandpa and I are both entranced and charmed
Faith
Alleluia, behold Christ’s dream.
Every follower gets heavens’ inklings.
Joyfully keeping laws man needs.
Obtaining peaceful quotes relieves.
Jesus Christ cleans and gleans…believe.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 17, 2010
Poetic form: ABC
on my brim
dons tangible markings.
Crafted genes engage
to warn iconic
of principled
death.
She measures
her tacky line, loping
anchors across
waxen badges
encrusted with
doubt.
I don’t fear
the web she spins
above my cerebellum
since due warning
of predatory intent
gleans.
On the darkness hides the lights;
As all of my wrong are canceled turns into rights;
My outside gleans the resilient flights;
These are the insights;
Well intended listless plight;
Come out of the dark He is Love, Life and Light;
3/30/22
Written words by James Edward ward Lee Sr 2022
"All my good is good
Filthy as rags from a sewer
But justice my Father gleans
From my sins He’s has sent His Son
He whom shed His blood
Shown us His love
His grave has forgiven us
My goodness, all of my goodness
In not enough
It took Our Jesus to die for me on the cross"
9/20/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
she is in an orange block mood
with a touch of turquoise
smiling at the world
smelling violets
the sun gives her a bit of a wink
she thinks of lemons and limes
words jump around in her head
they are jumbled, but lovely
gathered in the corner of her essence
she gleans spiritual knowing
a clairaudient, she sees without trying
loving her orange block mood
A dream lay on the beach.
Like a stone pounded smooth.
Gently sweetened by the sea unclaimed.
Beauty unrecognized as scores pass by.
Dead-and-slag-eyed.
Too often a devil comes along.
Gleans it from a deserving palm.
Skips it across the cold backbone of the sea.
Until it settles into the blackest ink.
Time and tide will retrieve it again.
The dream receiver is long since dead.
One long ray of sunlight
gleans down on the back porch
and rests in the eyes of gardenias.
The day is dying
piece by piece
until the light absorbs itself
behind the purple horizon.
The white hooded milk of the moon
is sneaking in like dandelions sprinkling
the yard mustard yellow.
Crickets are playing their shrill violins-
the symphony glides on tender earlobes
and appears to never rest.
Just suppose,
you juxtapose
date and time…
early riser,
back home
before
you’re supposed
to go. A riot,
that it seems
my brain
pauses, supposes
it knows
everything,
but the calendar gleans
the truth,
the text reveals
I’m all
mixed up.
Most of the time,
I get it right,
but,
once in a while,
my brain
misfires,
however,
I’ll not fire
the old gal -
I’ve depended
on her
all
these years!