Short Hopper Poems
Short Hopper Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Hopper by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Hopper by length and keyword.
Edward Hopper so realistic
with art hauntingly mistique
Scernes so ful of paradox
'Automat' *ticks this particular box
NYC's Grace Brewster Hopper
a computer world showstopper
Cobol she helped to enact
this persistent lady from Sperry Univac
OUT otu on the town
there's bars around
it was not stop
from block to block
we wink and drink
our eyes poper
we were
BAR HOPPER
In
pictures
within a
picture,life stands
still-
our
inner
sensations
inhibit the
view
Ekphrasis after Summer Evening by Hopper
DUCHAMP URINAL
toilette
to wet
LOWRY PEOPLE
matchsticks
in pics
HOPPER URBANITY
film stills
sans frills
~ darkness gleaming wisdom gleaning state of the heart poetry ~
1.2.2020
Who Flips Your Trolley Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Bobby May
ART INDIVIDUAL
HOPPER
static
sad
stare
O'KEEFE
close-up
and
personal
BALLA
movement
frozen
solid
above canyon ridge
hopper balloon excursion - using
boyant force
Night
Alone
Time to think
Cold hands and heart
The velvet darkness keeping her secrets…..
Subject..The Automat by Edward Hopper
For Brian's contest
CHIRICO
drousy
dreamland
HOPPER
silent
scenes
CASPER DF
geniune
genuflection
TWINKU a double word distich with integral title
In Aussieland there are hippity-hopper
They call em kangaroos or big boppers
Think they're trying
To become a flyer
Keep trying with their sons and daughters
The grass hopper jumps
the the bunny hops
the kangaroo jumps
and pigs love slop
~
just whaz up?
7/26/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
where is the back road
that passes this place
- a gas station refuge
between nature and night
and who is the man
with the half hidden face
working / existing
in ethereal light?
Spider Santa had a sticky sack.
He pulled it low behind his happy hump back.
It was full of flies, and the head of a hopper.
Can I get you a cookie? Mrs. Santa asked.
He had no way to stop her.
his distant still palette
of ambient light
painted the silence
of hawks in the night
catching a sadness
that hides in plain sight
in an air of detachment
that hints at their plight.
bathed in still shadows
from an afternoon glow
and wrapped inside splendour
half faded half gone
this house from a time
remote silent and slow
stands trapped by the past
in a world moving on.
urban alienation
pehaps ambiance of loneliness
or circumstances ambiguous to show
Automat - 1927
Edward Hopper
Tribute To All Nighter Cafe's
Also Entry For Brian Strands Contest
Hedda Hopper
wore many a fancy topper.
Louella Parsons hated her guts,
no ifs, ands, or buts.
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for
information I obtained to write this clerihew.
June 27, 2013
Sir Reginald Frog Hopper is as stuck up as they come.
His arrogance comes from his business, a favorite gum.
Few friends he has, actually, no one calls him a chum.
He has no knowledge of people, in that, he is kind of dumb.
He jumps on at the top
And the hopper bucks and kicks
But he is a resilient mouse
Whose knees are truly thick
He holds on past the daisies
The buttercups, and a daffodil
He never falls off,
While riding down this hill.
elusive ethereal energy evades each extra entity
frivolously frolicking, fearlessly, forever flirty
gratefully gleaning gentle grievers’ gratitude
happy heavenly hopper hastens home
impulsive imaginings, intriguing, interested idealists
Evading sleep...dress,
Walk in the dark cold night, street lamps
Out of the darkness
Welcoming open doors of the automat
Stop and sip the hot bitter, sweet nectar
Reflecting my soul in your panes
While the city sleeps...
Because...I can.
For the contest by Brian Strand
At five of the clock an immigrant species from the Raj speaks,
"woort tooo - teee tau", a grey maharajah on our hopper window
waking us up to another sunny, hot English summer's day we dream about
or have nightmares as is our want; remembering or misremembering our childhoods.
an automat whose orbs of light
reflect and touch the void of night
a refuge from the twenties’ roar
trapped in her thoughts without a door
a table, cup and gloveless hand
alone together in her land
a bowl of fruit that sits behind:
the 'still life' and her state of mind.
I can not dance
Nor can I sing
I can not paint
Not even by numbers
So here I sit
I write line after line
Of heartache and love
Of loss and pain
I am not an artist
I must be a fool
For all of my writings
Profess my love to you
Notes: Inspired by the paintings of Edward Hopper