Short Graveled Poems
Short Graveled Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Graveled by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Graveled by length and keyword.
In the old graveled alley, overgrown with weeds,
at footfall, locusts sprang and leaped,
triggering a riot.
But soon their swelling motion
subsided like fried popcorn on a skillet.
I hear heavy chains dragging across
graveled pavement
Heavy feet they can't lift too weak
Deep susurrus to dry to speak
The air is thick
sticky with each inhale
Drowning my soul
My blues I can't controle...
Form:
When beauty’s gone bye bye and slack flesh becks
Jowls, crow’s feet, graveled voice and turkey necks
Too old to be a narcissist
what’s left is a pacifist
*Tender genteel haters do not make good peaceniks!
At the Des Moines River’s Road End
There was a sharp tricky right bend
Prickly pines there were ready to defend
Graveled middle, a modern MODOT trend
Weeds that flittering faeries often tend
Mushroom homes, upon whom elves defend
Mother nature sat on haunches to mend
Torn sage weeds, beavers had chewed to extend.
Meandering along a graveled road
I saw an opossum with six young’uns
Hanging from her tail, quite a load
Meandering along a graveled road,
She was probably seeking a safer abode
I stopped, letting her pass, her luck runs
Meandering along a graveled road
I saw an opossum with six young’uns.
Written October 11, 2022
rabbits leap across
loneliest graveled dirt roads
barely missing tires
~
possum shuffle past
the white lines along the curbs
hopes fill their belly
~
raccoon dart out from
beneath laurels and pine trees
hustling toward hills
~
bear lumber along
awaiting hibernation
along forest trails
~
deer travel quiet
sighing soft in the headlights
through misty night fog
An auto rickshaw, a carriage
Like a tortoise
Returns
Along my obsolete graveled
Road.
The auto rickshaw rolls on:
My bucolic
Rocks
Mirth of a birth,
Rapturously.
The auto rickshaw passes by a
Nuptial hall :a
Bride
Stands in the splendor
Borrowed.
The auto rickshaw pauses before a
Rural maze :
My
Career knocks get
Mocked.
The auto rickshaw, the three
Wheeled, creeps through the
Nostalgia
Scenting textbooks
New.
The auto rickshaw halts now
On a lap,
For
The road is lost in
Fog.