Short Hippies Poems
Short Hippies Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Hippies by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Hippies by length and keyword.
I bootstrap bobcat , was hastily enlisting a badmouth bystander to hound the tiddley hippies into fiendish fluster ?
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 7–13, 2026)
The folk era from way back in the sixties
Provided me a chance to play my banjo on TV
A folk group of six
Four guys and two chicks
The Canadiana Folksingers, a cool group of hippies
The folk era from way back in the sixties
Provided me a chance to play my banjo on TV
A folk group of six
Four guys and two chicks
The Canadiana Folksingers, a cool group of hippies
What's wrong with Hippies,
who like taking trippies
or smoke funny ciggies.
Freedom of mind, while brain is reclined,
no longer blind, the answers I find,
connections that bind, while time hits rewind.
©John-Ovan.P.Hull
imagination
peacocks and flowers
hippies and hippos
Volkswagen busses
dragons and witches
unicorns blue
faeries and elves
a Shangri-la
my happy place
cartooning
grandchildren
poetry
dancing
singing
art
Campbell's Tomato Soup, a vision of the sixties
Andy Warhol and his creative mind, some seemed silly
But each played a role
It was his overall goal
To strike out in a new direction in the age of the hippies
When we’re young and prefer sagging trousers,
we're left-wingers, we're hippies, carousers.
Then we age and grow wise,
cause our trousers to rise,
and send soldiers to shoot rabble-rousers.
American naturalist, essayist, philosopher, poet, teacher and transcendentalist.
He pursued spiritual growth through denial of worldly pleasures and simple living.
He left society to live apart in a small cabin as one of the first hippies to exist.
What the flip was CeeLo Green
Doing on the X Factor looking keen?
In a dress of yellow and pink flowers
With flaccid, psychedelic powers?
I felt as if I was back in the 60s,
Drifting high with the hippies,
I was sent to planet Zigzag,
In need of a sedating jag.
Psychedelic
Good times
Woodstock
Peace love
Long hair
Bell bottom
Jeans and beads
Guitars strumming
Hippies
Around a campfire
Singing
Free style
How the lovin’ was easy
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~RANDOM MUSINGS VOL.2~ 2020
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Faeries and sprites flitting among the thistles and the daisies.
Sitting at the base of the violets, strumming easy listening guitars.
So, this is where the hippies go, observed a new arrival.
Understanding there are many levels of heaven.
And we gravitate to the one we relate to the hardest.
cuckoo bystander
hippies hound
desecrate passing
shrewdly badmouth
siegfried bobcat
wake european
spirits enlisting
the globally
fortuitousness by
reading rhythmic
confrontation dutifully
fluster fission
spat and
unite your
sourness unlearned
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 7–13, 2026)
hippies were on the right path.
They wanted people to love each other.
Of course being mean to soldiers was wrong.
And following cult leaders is never okay.
But they had the love part right.
They were trusting and open.
And their clothes were instrumental
in allowing fashion to be punky and fun.
Horses, spiders, dragons, fat cats
Hippies, pirates, witches, black bats
Flowers, mushrooms, clouds and such
I love my paintings very much
Cartooning is a language I love to speak
My paints are fluorescent, the brightest peak
I have so much fun drawing up the fey
Painting enlightens me every day
In the peace love seventies
Preached to forgive our enemies
Growing up our freedom breezy
The lovin’ was made easy
Woodstock hippies in bell bottoms
Singing ballads on through autumns
Hitchhikers up thumbing muscle cars
Guitar strumming sweet mellow bars
Long hair beads under stars
Campfires looking up at Mars
AP: 1st place 2025
I knew a guy who was raised by hippies,
he had never needed to undress a female with his eyes,
but he lost his enthusiasm for sex.
Every woman knows the art
of being covered and naked at the same time.
I used to do a lot of imaginative looking,
now I stand around jawing - just another old guy,
and women don't look at me at all.
Bourgeoise Hippies
Littering your hallways with gold-painted plaster ?
Buddhas and empty singing bowls.
Building shrines and burning sage.
Eating leaves and teaching Yoga
Your mirrors are covered in dust.?
You drown your ignorance of compassion
In a shallow pool of consciousness.
All the while disregarding the comforts of your privilege.
Christmas tree
window alight
for a winter dream rhyme
a day
a season
a suspension within time
drift
where snow rests
upon a soul's silence
whispers the light
carrying the night
quest for a reason
to see
beyond the mirror
hippies lost in a circle rhythm
where water calls
falls to truth
drifts the echoes of peace
on earth...
- jude
my scribbling is consistent
scrolls, spirals, three-dimensional boxes
mushroom houses, flowers, stars
witches, pirates, unicorns
gardens, trees, clouds, grass
daisies, hippies, dragons, cattails
cats, dogs, mice and frogs
my scribbles are consistent
if you ask children who meet me
who drew those things
most of them will point at me
my drawings are steadily redundant
Hippies, dogs, cats, pirates, and flowers
My paintings are oozing with magical powers.
Women with hair of every color, pattern and hue,
Painted in pinks, silvers, purples and electric blue.
Steadily working on canvases during the day,
Dragons, unicorns, turtles stop by to say “hey”.
I usually have four to five going with castles sublime.
A Gemini spirit, I cannot work on one at a time.
Long ago in a Laundromat
A couple of hippies just met
One asked the other if he smoked weed
He replied, "Every chance I get!"
With the police station next door
Behind the building's where they went
But soon became quite worried
Alarmed by the smokes ascent!
Frantically swatting at the cloud
They quickly gave up the attack
When they saw they were standing
In front of a vent in the back!
Tolerance--
With All The Hippies
And Hill-Billies On
The Blooming Fringes
Of All Our Thoughts...
Soft And Warm,
Contrary To Hope...
Here And There...
Tolerance To
Cope...
Clear Your Intolerance
To Yourselves,
Like A Log Jam
In The Flowing
Heart.
Your Own Thoughts.
Your Own Logs.
Well, To At Least
Tolerate My Own,
You Know...
***Unconditional***
-Gray Squirrel
06-30-2026
Take me back to the dime bag days
when we were hotel hippies,
thirsty for trouble and stuck in a state
of delirium.
Our souls were scattered messes
among the unbent hills -
dreaming of rebellion and freedom,
pockets empty, heart's empty
Having no sense of direction and
craving toxicity like it is a
natural remedy. We were walking
disasters, baddie two shoes.
My personal flag will have to include a dragon.
Fierce and fabulous, in oranges and hot pink.
Faeries of course, and a booby cartoon woman.
At least sixteen colors, enhanced with black ink.
Hearts, hippies, cats, dogs, mushrooms and super gold stars.
Elves and pixies with roses, to make it sweet.
Yellow daisies, box turtles and a happy face from Mars,
Peacocks and witches would maybe make it complete.
So succinct
To watch the eyes blink
Under cover of sleep
In shadow turn's
The night burn's
Psychedelic vision's in miles
Of open fields
Dancing the breeze
Beyond the tree's
Guitar's strum the chords of gun shot
Flower petals
The band play astray
Festival mud and free love
To blistered children
Drug beaten into submissiveness
Reciting dead poet's
Works of post art haze
In a glaze of Glory