Short Hang Around Poems
Short Hang Around Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Hang Around by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Hang Around by length and keyword.
I hang around town
With my fly open
And my underwear
Pulled out
Just forgetful
Setting a trend
Or just
Cooling off the goods
Force expressions penned
The muse has gone on vacation
It did not want to hang around
To see the virus' mutation
Reach November for December
the bird has gone to soup.
Ain’t no need to hang around;
the carolers are aggrouped.
©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
November 24, 2012
Frosty started flirting like a clown
a female Frosty to now hang around
he fell head over heels
folks said whats the deal
how did he end up upside down?
12-24-17
That word
flying around
wingless
desperately seeking
an owner
funny...I smile
Came knocking
told it to come back
can hang around
"I'll call you when I'm ready...ok?"
Are dark and spooky
water drips, bats hang around
there might be ghosts too.
Copyright © Cynthia Jones
Jan.10/2015
Ghost Adventures is about the Bell Witch in Tennessee.
time was I'd hang around
in P town
tune in turn on and party down-
in P town
far out cats on purple haze
white lab rats lost in the maze
yeah,them was the good ol'daze
in P town*
(*portsmouth)
Form:
(29/10/08)
I used to hang around with you
Right here, over there, everywhere
We used to giggle over our stupidities
Right here, over there, everywhere
Where are you now?
I’m sure I have a right to ask
A stealthy visitor to the top of the room,
A silent mover,
Black spindles from a oval orb,
Make eight comfortable legs to the bed,
Web chandeliers hang around it,
Holding the remains of previous lovers,
BLUE SKY
The cloud smiles over the blue sky
Mountains hang around river bank
as water moves slowly like~fry
sweet nature hides in enclosed tank
cool breeze blows to soothe my tired face
~stars shine like crystals with silver trace.
Do you heard them sigh
As people walk on by
And feel them without
Seeing them about
They are still hang around
Looking for somewhere to be bound
But confusion is so bare
When you find you aren’t there.
© Paul Warren Poetry
A lifetime plays out
as you watch a movie screen,
or hang around in the foyer,
waiting for the right movie to start.
Then you realize
that it has always been your light
on that screen -
that you were, fact,
the only projector in town.,center.
I had my second booster shot
And energetic, I am not.
I’ve gotten past the needle’s ouch
But can’t get off my cozy couch.
With no set plans, I am content
To hang around, the hours spent
With rest and music that sustains,
The vaccine coursing through my veins.
Life, we make it what we want it to be
If you are happy everyone around you becomes happy,
If you are sad everyone around you becomes sad
If you are angry everyone around you becomes angry
We are molded by who we hang around with.
God is the person I try to be around
By Eve Roper
Lost efforts
Will sometime abound
Not something needing
To hang around
Time in the moments
Can not be regained
But the rain check
Rings back from the mind
Giving better means to wind
Of ways to astound
The understanding
Peeks an attitude
Knowing the word lost
paints wins turn
Snow and snowmen.....
what about mince pies
and a slice of Morecambe and Wise?
Crackers, food and parties,
with gingerbread, grapes and drums.
Performing plays in seasonal costumes.
Decorations hang around a family reunion.
Charity definitely begins at home.
....so pass the chocolate biscuits!
Broken hearts
don’t often mend
after first loves are gone.
They simply hang around
sitting on a throne
wearing a crown
called “trophy love”.
Love comes and goes
but first loves
lingers on until the end of time
unless, of course, another love
as strong as the first
supersedes the number one spot.
Pale daughters
don't stoke the familial fireside
they wait patiently for the darkness
toting their time
They are not the ones
to hang around freckles smiles
instead they tell quaint jokes
Children call them defilment
their painted smiles tell a different story
lying in bed with their spectacles on.
Broken hearts
don't often mend
after first loves are gone.
They simply hang around
sitting on a throne,
wearing a crown
called "trophy love".
Love comes and goes
but first loves
linger on until the end of time,
unless another love
as strong as the first
supersedes the number one spot.
Time – I plan you out,
but you go so fast.
You’re going, then gone!
I can’t make you last!
Where do I go wrong?
Perhaps I’m called.
Then things get stalled
or forgotten,
which is rotten!
Precious time -
hang around
just because
I need
you to . . .
PAUSE
Jan. 11, 2021
for Caren Krutsinger's A Diminished Hexaverse Poetry Contest
The devil loves a do-gooder,
One who expects everyone to come to order,
Because their vision is much broader.
The devil loves those with good intention,
As they are likely to have a poor sense of direction,
Which could lead to an insurrection.
The devil loves those who rely on a faulty compass,
Who hang around campus,
To make sure everyone catches the same bus.
I know
this is not the world of my dreams,
But now that I am here
I'll hang around for a while.
I was just passing through
and thought I'll drop in
and say hello.
I cast
a cursory glance at the world,
found no soulmate
found no kindred spirit…
So I toss
a shroud over me
and I go!
~03/17/23
~Contest: Now that we are here
~Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker.
CHANGING SEASONS
Each season has it's own beauty,
Such a joy for all to see,
Autumn colours worn on the trees,
Golden yellow and red leaves.
A blanket of leaves on the ground,
The Autumn season won't hang around.
As the changing of seasons has begun,
They do their natural magic, one by one,
But not for long will each season stay,
Each will return to do their magic one day.
Beautiful master piece,
radiates pure talent.
The hunger in my soul is a
foolish pride.
The stroke of the brush, as
if my life source, is the force
behind my gift.
The subject perfect this time as always,
"Hidden pain" why doesn't God answer my
questions straight out?
It will hang in that big Gallery, in that big city,
I'll hang around until I can get back from the other-side
of Art.
Some stubborn snow
Just will not go;
It likes to hang around.
It’s laying low
But as we know
It uglifies the ground.
For city air
Makes white snow rare.
Each day the heaps get grayer;
And those that care
Might even dare
To blame it on the mayor.
Yet very soon
(Perhaps by June)
The sun will melt those piles
And we’ll commune
Each snow-free noon
With spring-like beaming smiles.