Short Hundred Thousand Poems
Short Hundred Thousand Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Hundred Thousand by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Hundred Thousand by length and keyword.
the world is on fire
Its people are starving
the virus will kill
three hundred thousand soon
so
we fire a rocket to the moon
There are purported to be one hundred thousand or so writers on this site. I
Wonder if 60, 000 are active.? Just my
Mind considering computations.)
Over two-hundred thousand Covid-19 victims now;
easy to forget these are people, not "numbers of deaths," they are...
brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, parents, grandparents, et al.
Date written: 10/11/2020
A thousand years from now,
The sky will open and ruby tears will fall to the broken earth
The testaments to a hundred thousand years of hope and betrayals.
The blackened flowers of a hundred thousand souls will line the foreboding walk of humanity.
I’ve seen a hundred thousand dreams
Pass over into childhood
With hopes and visions that I’ve held
But never understood
I’ve watched my youthful fantasies
And days of flying dragons
Fall fast asleep while in the night
Angels came to say goodnight
I’ve seen a hundred thousand dreams
Pass over into childhood
With hopes and visions that I’ve held
But never understood
I’ve watched my youthful fantasies
And days of flying dragons
Fall fast asleep while in the night
Angels came to say goodnight
The expedition was not worth a hill of beans
The outcome did not meet expectations, it seems
So I shaped the beans into a mighty mountain
~ One-hundred-thousand steps I’d be countin’
The radio announcer lady on 91.9 FM
sounds about thirty-five years old. I wonder
how many hearts she’s broken in her time
and, for that matter, how about you?
Try to count them all up,
Two? Twenty? Two hundred thousand?, then
give yourself forty lashes,
because it’s all the same.
ALBA GU BRATH
(Scotland Forever)
Càit' a bheil thu a' fuireach?
(where are you from)
Tha mi a'fuireach ann an Alba
(we are from Alba)
Ceud maìlle fàilte.
(one hundred thousand welcomes)
Cha ghéill sinn
(we will never surrender/fall back)
ALBA GU BRATH.
Andrew McIntyre © 2015.
This engine needs a little tune-up
And the oil doesn't flow so well
The battery's probably low on juice
Check the sparkplugs -- Who can tell?
These wheels have covered a lot of ground
Over two-hundred thousand miles
And now that the frame's started to fall apart
~ All that works right is my smile
There is an enormous gumball machine in this hair cutting place.
It was probably gleamingly shiny and beautiful once.
Possibly held three hundred thousand gumballs.
Yes, Virginia, it is that big.
This machine is pathetically empty now.
There are only enough gumballs to fill the bottom inch of her bowl.
I feel sorry for her.
let’s go back a
hundred-thousand years
to these ragged edges
torn rains
raw greens
biting seas
to the first sunrise,
now understood.
tears of calm joy –
a return.
we find ourselves
in this,
a kinship;
our brother is
our keeper,
and we
its’ guardian,
walk the edges
and the smooths;
our planet,
Earth’s children
Coloured Putin
Shoot her full of rainbows
Scythes from heaven
Souls down in Hell
Hundred thousand dead
Mamushka I miss you
Our Leader sent us there
Not an Odessa holiday
Opposite of that mama
Forgive them all
It's Putin's orders
Hundred thou casualties
Bullet ridden rainbows
Her essence is black
SELL OUT
Nick Armbrister
out in 23
My politician is the cosmos,
that unending piece of star filled canopy
that wraps my soul
to sleep each night.
I'm a swaddled papoose
on it's immortal back,
just for the ride.
It's the happy magician that rules
a hundred thousand thoughts....
Sun and moon are the curtains of the macrocosm,
that shrinks your small words
of what holds today.
Having grey hair aint much fun,
There's no more races to be won,
I sit in my rocker and snore away,
Seem to do it most every day,
I think I'm just about done.
But wait a minute, my numbers came in,
A three hundred thousand lottery win,
I'm off to Paris and the Champs_Elysees,
To chase mademoiselles that aint so grey,
I'm already wearing an adventurous grin.
I am being
Sensations of the softest cloth
Tickling senses sensually I
Carelessly surrender to a
Presence of one hundred thousand
Hungry souls taken over me
No longer wearing my essence
Stationed along the edge of time
Praying for infinite blessings
Here I will cease to be edging unto
The ETERNAL this eternal
This hunger and hope this BEING
IMMORTALITY.
Billy Shiel runs boat trips
On sunny northern days
Towards the Longstone Lighthouse
A pinnacle of the waves
Past two hundred thousand sea birds
A rare sight to behold
Sometimes even a seal or two
Come close if feeling bold
But it's the lighthouse Billy loves the most
The edge of land and sea
If only he didn't have bills to pay
Longstone is where he wants to be
I finally stopped belittling myself for not knowing them all.
Because who does?
I mean, really, WHO?
Maybe my mother.
No one else in my family.
There are 600,000 of them in the English language.
Homophones like ate and eight.
Adjectives like gurgling and bungling.
Adverbs like actively and mactively
Okay I made up mactively
So I guess that makes six hundred thousand and one.
A hundred thousand scratches on my soul
A hundred thousand scars that make me whole
My mind drifts in the sky of unknown thought
The only thing that's real is what I'm not
We live
We die
We feel
We cry
We fall into the empty sky
I know that I can not deny
I live
Will die
I feel
Will cry
A hundred thousand scars upon my soul
Another scratch now screams that I am whole
Form:
An angel kissed a ripple
Onto a glassy sea
And in that very instant
A baby came to be
A hundred times she kissed it
A hundred thousand more
Each time the troubled surface
More troubled than before
The ripples started crossing
And people crossing too
In time made each their ripple
Like as that ocean blue
So here is my petition
Oh Jesus, hear my plea!
That all my parting wavelets
Be marked in time for Thee
Dust off the angels
hang the lights and mull the wine
prepare a hundred thousand welcomes
for the season grows merry
and my hunger for it is as sharp as teeth.
Flip the script, turn away tired work,
give play its moment on the throne
let pleasures combine and laughter chime
let much too much be much too little
All else is detour.
.
.
Songs for this:
daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_34.mp3
Words are the most powerful thing in the universe
More powerful than force or fear
Words can motivate armies of a hundred thousand strong
They can break people
Heal people
Move people
Make people get up and take a stand
Words can make people come together or break apart
They can be deep and strong, or light and fluid
They can change something inside of everyone
In their mind, their heart, their soul
Words are full of power
For twelve times
twelve months
I have searched
for the love
I first found with you.
After a hundred times
a hundred thousand footsteps
I have again arrived
at your doorstep
awaiting your love.
For two times
two hundred million heartbeats
my lonely soul
has searched for love,
at least to give it
if not to receive it.
Now only you can answer
the hardest question I could ask.
Is my search over?
2/24/87
Painted clouds of ocean shores
Purple glowing golden isles
Dreamland harbors shadow moors
Brimming eyes of saddened smiles
Out of reach still darker turning
In a hundred thousand miles
Trail of fire on changing canvas
Mosaic view through splintered tiles
Filled with other stars aburning
Spinning time the tie that binds us
Opens senses and beguiles
While ever patient death yet finds us
Astride of hope with all her wiles
Canine, incisor, molar to.
What are all three? I’m looking at you.
One hundred thousand dollars up for grabs
Ellen is waiting showing her abs
Dogs teeth, teeth dogs, dogs the woman guesses.
Man gets a chance to steal. Dogs? He professes.
That’s great! His wife yells, happy as a lark.
Great in what world? All three in the dark.
It is teeth, Ellen announces. The audience laughs.
Everyone else there sees both contestants are daft.