Short Gristle Poems

Short Gristle Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Gristle by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Gristle by length and keyword.


Premium Member Missing My Tender Buds

chewing the fat with a ghostlike gristle,
                                           a likeness lampoon on cell

5/9/2020
Form: Monoku


Which Came First

Poultry farm chaos
Chicken-lickin’ you
Sweet and sour future
Henhouse flurry

Henpecked and handpacked
Epistle of gristle
Cellophane stiffy
Wishbone hope?

Premium Member hamhocks for my dogs

ham hocks
the dogs love them
sure. they are costly
but they satisfy
and our dogs are our people
I cringe as I hear their teeth crunching up bone and gristle
My teeth hurt thinking about it

Premium Member The Beauty and Gristle of Life

Motion

Suggests

A story of

Change..

A dance of

Separation..

The drama of

Wins and losses..

This beauty

And gristle

Of boundless

Life

Seems to be 

Inherent in

Motion...
Form: Blitz

Premium Member Marbled

Most hearts are marbled in the fat of prejudice.
Some much more than others.
Some have a heart that beats lean.
Like a white rose in the summer sheen. 

Others have a heart of gristle.
Every beat leaving a stain.
Rebuffing all visions of love.
Every beat billowing a bolus of hate.

How to burn the calories off.
Just lob a heartfelt prayer to God.
Then watch the excesses slough.


Premium Member The Room at the End

And now we come to the special cases:
You know, they are at the edge of the living,
Questionable that they fit the classification

Just a little red gristle at the articulations
Very desiccated, like pampas grass
Flopping like straw umbrellas

Non-speaking specimens, 
What can they be thinking -
If anything?

Cradle one in your arms;
Isn’t it sad
What you think of them
Someone thinks of you

Mop Woman

Mop Woman


Near dwarf this woman. 
Foreign born. Minsk,
perhaps. Nose 

a fist. Hair
a whisk broom
only black. Her back

an Orthodox cupola, 
her arms braids of gym rope
lowered to the floor.

Orangutans could climb 
those ropes, hand
over hand, no rose

no purple 
doughnuts 
on their hinds.

Near dwarf this woman.
Foreign born. Minsk,
perhaps.

Her hands, all gristle, 
hang an inch, no more,
above her shining floor.


Donal Mahoney

Premium Member History is not just political '

It may be affected by political acts.? Yet a
History of relevant fact, is what was done
Under the sun.' In recounting of its gristle
And bristles? Why are hackles raised.? Why
Are heckles made.? Why shout about odds.
If the numbers aren't stacked.'
 Its what it is
Or is for some? That the rub.' If its not that
Malleble.? Then they show not love.' 
Although in the halls of power, are virtues
Touted, in a (  broad aside ) they 
are quite usually, and most wilfully flouted.'

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