Short Hand Made Poems
Short Hand Made Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Hand Made by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Hand Made by length and keyword.
In attic windows
The miracle of night sky
Amazed lying on
A hand-made quilt protected
Against the cold night of stars
In attic windows
The miracle of night sky
Amazed lying on
A hand-made quilt protected
Against the cold night of stars
Hand made wooden beams
cut down from family woods
many hands light work
It's the simple life
bridges built in the country
long history wrote
Alone, I’m in this world alone
Beside my shattered life
Chastised by society for my beliefs
Detained in my hand made prison
Waiting for the release of my emotions
wanting to be wanted
desired
for the body i crafted
with two legs and a heart
this art
is hand-sewn
let me leave you
aching
drunk
falling for me
at my feet
on your knees
Of what fascinates
In the feminine
Charmingly sweet, ere can, whose cause
Put a finger on
That serene, upstood
A gentler hand made
Exotica, cracks not o'er time
Puts in a trance one!
i had bought her two hand made crystal glasses
one was red and one was blue
the day our son left home
his old thermos fell
from the top shelf
and broke the red glass
we still have the blue glass
and
each other
Copyright © 2012
12/17/2012
(A Purpose So Clear)
Like children we fear
In secret a somber tear
Like learning to walk
Babies listen to talk
And reach for a hand
To help them stand
This too, we all must do
By HIS Hand made anew
by: LP
Hand-made globe
In silver-gold robe
Is it so round?
Perfection profound?
Reflecting on rivers
In winter, shivers.
Like a rough stone
Sometimes, wind blown
Tries to get in homes
Through windows and domes
Though seems flawless
Isn't it, often, callous?
Holding the peace,
I've yet to release,
My rose that bloomed,
Only to wilt.
Saying good-bye,
As I start to cry,
Embracing her smiling,
Hand made quilt.
Wrapped around,
This hollow gaze,
This emptiness starting to faze,
All because she simply,
Couldn’t love me.
Form:
I'll break off a foot.
Ate both arms yesterday
The head went first of all
Early Christmas Day.
Best of all the gifts
The prize is surely won
A ginger man hand made
By my youngest, grown-up son.
Sweeter than the sugar
No frosting is so grand
The ginger scent recalls
The gentle touch of his hand.
Silent motion jasmine votives flicker
near jewel blossoms embraced in painted hand-made wicker
barely surviving this winter's frostbite
closed pedals sunstained pale in window light
blushing pink where colors blend
barely wilting where it mends
its pale reflection gone as day ends
winter passes spring begins
Sleepless nights and holding hands,
Makes me think these nights soon planned,
And in planning found friendship, best wishes,
and let not be forgot, goodnight kisses,
To help move these feet day by day,
but know in not knowing they move me your way,
to your empty hand, made full but not of past,
and help this Dreamer sleep at last.
That's what we are
That's how we came
Simple, common thing
Inanimate yet, produce
From the best hand made
Fashion in a gentle form
Stood lifeless, face off
Life infuse, same image
Now praising face to face
With love and compassion
The Master has perfected
His work of art made into
A real masterpiece in life
And that is you and me.
a limerick
No longer sweehearts, but I need a gift.
For just a day can we forego our rift?
You get me a puppy dog;
I'll buy you a marble frog.
On Valentine morn, exchange will be swift.
I'll treasure the frog, hand-picked and hand made;
you'll dote on your puppy without charade.
The gifts are no bother
we'll share with each other.
Just be glad, I didn't choose a grenade.
Oh my god, heard a bang
Turned on the light, went downstairs
Saw a figure in the dark gloominess of a room
A knife for cutting food
In his left-hand made o’ bone
Whispers into the left ear of me
Crucify me
Crucify me
I was frozen
In my tracks
To not move to the station
And drop off my passengers
What I saw
Or heard of me
Or witnessed of me
Is now in my mind
Louis
Tiffany
artiste nouveau-
art-by-absorpion was
his theme
ahead
of his time-
a controlled accident,
hand-made favrile,free formed,
design
Louis Tiffany considered by Pollock & Motherwell as an early exponent of pure form & colour
in art
http://www.hyndburnbc.gov.uk/hag
largest public collection of Tiffany glass in Europe. Haworth art Gallery ,Accrington England
I have grown weary of the truth
Blighted soothsayer soliloquies
Shouted from hand-made signs
Railing against self-made silence
Shattered beliefs drowning
In doubt’s echoless dungeon
Stained glass demons
Muted by mindless dust
Leaded beauty denied
Untarnished expression
An old woman waits on the corner
Knowing she may go hungry today
Rats scurry in the alleys
Knowing that they won’t
We have had no television for years.
People ask how can you live this way?
Don't you care
About what you are missing day after day?
I'm not missing anything.
I have lots of fun
Makings all kinds of things.
I even sell some of them when they're done.
There's hand made quilts, earrings,
And a list of read books
Which brings
Me to special meals I learned to cook
And how quaint
I can even paint.
HURT HEART
Hurt heart hastened home
Hunting hope housed humbly
Hollow holiness has hurt heart
Has humans heart has holes?
Humiliated heavy heart harves hardship
Help harmonise harmless hearts.
Hurt heart hastened home
Hanging helplessly hand-made hope
Handcuff heartbreakers handbooks
Head home, hand hold halting heart
Has human's heart half hollow?
Hale heart hopes honestly
Have habit habitual heart?
Hurt hair-cut heart haggardly.
Let’s everybody massacre our children.
Grown-ups . To be grown-ups.
Those who could not be born
And never asked for.
Who overtook us in birth,-
Has got old;
Who was dreamt up by us from the lines on the palms;
Was not loved by us;
Not hated and
Still loved.
Who accused us of failure of sunrise.
Who could not go to school;
Could not find the way,
Who nowhere found own portion of the land;
Became a killer;
Became a thief;
Became a whore;
What is it in the nature of your soul
that wills me to want to know more?
A God-annointed angel will know
who by His hand made you soar.
You were cradled at earth’s conception
with gifts of light in this mortal sphere.
Thus to all you touch you give direction,
heavenly inspiration is unfailingly near.
That much I know beyond any doubt
it is as certain as God's Son is alive.
It reveals in truth what you are about—
celestial brilliance to ensure we thrive.
A snow day was good motivation
For letting creative juice flow.
I needed a gift
So it gave me a lift
To put something together to sew.
I first thought I’d order from Etsy
But realized that I had the skill
To craft a design
And to make it all mine
Which, I have to admit, was a thrill.
I’m not talented like with my rhyming
Though my project still made me feel proud
Since a present hand-made
In which love is displayed
Will most surely stand out in a crowd.
There are certain items kept
Sentimental objects are special
They hold the good memories
Some of us own one object
While some of us own several
It could be anything owned
Mine are several items
I treasure to my heart
I framed a Christmas card
A scene of Colpoy Bay area
A painting framed of Wiarton
My sewing table plus more
A stain glass wheel hand made
When the sun shines the colours
show
My statue dog Scruffy
An autograph book of poetry
Are sentimental to me
You lead this nation to hold hands;
You inspired peace, even on foreign sands.
You are the world’s most respected man;
You’ve encouraged dreams, and the words: “I can”.
Now that you walk on Heaven’s shores;
And live in a home with God’s hand-made doors;
We pray, that we can make you look down and smile;
As we pass on your legacy, through the generation aisle.
Dear Nelson Mandela, may peace now be with you;
And thanks for your love;
From: A global family, missing You.