Short Handholds Poems

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


Insidious Ramblings From Death Defying Time Travellers Who Know Nothing

tracing lines on the syntax
          grammar cascades down resonant folds

hand over hand
   mishandled hands lost grip on the handholds

travelling through time diagonally and sideways

found by no one for infinity of days
                                  lost for never 
yet at the same time always

GONE


To a Ring

In you I trust. You symbolize a promise.
If self-reliance fails and footholds crumble
You’ll keep us safe from harm. You will protect us
If handholds break, if we lose grip, or stumble.

With you in reach I dare release the tension.
Your solid metal roundness will inspire
New confidence and faith. I can exhale now
The bated breath and, with relief, climb higher.
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member no explanation for any of this

no separation

not explained

not explainable

can be obvious

dissolving absent

handholds



being

not being that

not being this

but expressing

that and this



finding

what is not lost

a seeker's shock

and demise

perhaps



searching

assumes something

to find with no

expectation that

something is 

nothing

Brake Time

Chasing of dreams through time shaken seasons
Forming and shaping of whispery wills
Weaving and wending through common place living
Crutches and handholds like miracle pills
Places to go to when breathers are needed
Hammocks of cool shaded  quiet  away
Beside hot rutted roadways of unending  hills
Questions and answers and working all day
A cold glass of poetry sipped on the way
Held in a callused and tremoring hand
Still ready and willing to play
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Irish Love a Bit of Craic On Saint Patrick's Day

Cian careen into Quigley's Pub
for a little Irish whiskey and sub
before long dancing
an Irish jig romancing 
the wee fawning lassies lap club

lassies hooting and flapping being bold
with blarney about his pot of gold
money he was countin
while lassies were mountin
full of craic, pole dancing, and few handholds


much Irish brew a sot Cian became
I'm takin my money you can't blame
when he got to his lair
pot did he held bare
shame he did claim but himself to blame

3/26/2017
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Limerick


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