Short Hung Over Poems
Short Hung Over Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Hung Over by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Hung Over by length and keyword.
Mistletoe hung over the door
Is something one can not ignore
But candy kisses
Console the Mrs.
Since facemasks just ruin the score
The winter sun hung over the bay
A golden orb sending its rays
Far & wide to bathe in light
This town by the sea, before Christmas night.
There was a man named Pauls
Who was born near the Victoria falls
Had a male organ on his fore head
Which almost killed him dead
For the sacks hung over his eye balls
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Moon is hung over
the same scene she lit last night
washed out at sunrise
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
don't look
just act
like it's
totally natural
having a sword
of Damocles
hanging over
your head by
no less than
a single strand
of horse hair
be aware
but don't
beware
for it
will be
above you
at all times
Form:
For God's sake
Don't lose me
I who hung "over the cliff"
Can't swim nor fly and
the sky is so crowded.
I have no tears
to saddle in thick fog,
And the earth,
beneath my feet is
neigh and rumble.
Don't, lose me ..
I am love, who didn't
abandon your city yet.
chilled bottle of wine
stockings hung over her chair
candle lights the way
naked on his bed
she pretends to be asleep
a valentine treat
he comes to her
a single red rose
will she be satisfied?
For Linda's Contest
haiku 575
questionku 456 ending with a question.
wet
his black curls hung over his shoulders
eyes glistening
he leaned in over the bed
breaking advance
pulled back the sheet
sleep scent
sweetness drifted
morning light rose around the bed
he moved in gathered his wife to him
she wound her hands in his hair
before the day
The old clock had grown
a beard of dust.
The ink in the Underwood's ribbon
long dried in silence.
Frayed tassels of an old desk lamp
hung over the motionless pen.
Gnarled hands etched
the pain of goodbye.
Grandmother's rocker was still.
So was he.
7/3/2020
The Old Scribe Poetry Contest
Free spirit shone like sapphire,
pure,clean and fragrant,
other spirits played,
along competing,
mudslinging,
merrily,
Dirt hung over all spirits,
after the play ended,
they looked now,
here and there,
and saw,
that all,
were dead.
Frisk and Whisk
We always refuse to take any risk
And have a policy of frisk and whisk
Away quickly to jail
Will do without fail;
Rained outside and wind blew brisk.
They were hung over and just
wanted to spend a night over
in jail out of the harsh weather
and will end up getting over
themselves.
Jim Horn
The full moon was shining very bright,
as I ventured off into the night.
I awoke in the woods naked with a deer carcass at my side.
Its throat had been ripped out. "Not again," I sighed.
"That's it!" I screamed, "This madness must end!
I am never going to drink again!
I'm sick and tired of waking up hung over next to carrion.''
The Painting
In the old house, there was a painting.
It hung over the fire place.
There were trees and a house.
A few birds in the sky.
The old well look as if there was no water there.
Horses in the barn with their heads out the windows
Made the painting so real.
Then I looked out the window there it was. Just as the painting told.
The rain stopped
the sun was gone
Mercy was in
short supply
Smoke hung over
the battlefield
A bugler in the mud
with his cry
Bodies were being
carted off
New songs were written
to the dead
Just another day in
World War 1
That started and ended
in dread
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2014)
The sun beat down on a languid sea as a million diamonds danced and sparkled
on the surface of the water.
The red-tinged cliff hung over the beach, threatening to envelop an unwary walker.
Above, the sky was so bright and blue, whilst on the horizon a misty hue.
The rolling hills are so verdant yet bleak, with small cumulus clouds atop the peaks.
Your version of sober is not mine,
I do not blame you I blame culture;
Wasted words you will not remember,
probably better to stay silent;
For me an unaltered state is fine,
that’s not for everyone I am sure;
I’d rather not end up hung over
I would like to talk about time spent;
You are claiming clean on that bender,
my definition was never bent.
He laid on the beach
Soft surf washing his feet
A red plastic cup clutched in his hand
Sun glistening off his salt coated cheeks
Two crabs walking the beach
Stopped and shook their claws
A shark fin cut a V in the shallows
Waiting for the tide to come in
Seagulls stole fries at the hot dog stand
He would awaken sun burnt and hung over
Claiming he had fallen overboard
There was once this crazy hat that I won,
By shooting out a star with a gun;
It was a whole foot high and yellow and blue,
I used to like to wear it askew;
It had four little bells that hung over my ears,
Their silver has lost it’s shine through the years;
A joker’s hat that glittered in the light of the sun,
I’ll never forget that crazy hat that I won!
~Tirzah Conway~
Listen to poem:
the morn never came
the sun denied to arise
defied its duty
to say good-bye to hiding
veiled below the horizon
an early bird rose
but if the sun never rose
what would such a bird
do to kill time while on pause
in the darkness scorned forlorn
too soon the cock crowed
the birds sang their dawn chorus
sang again again
in vain for the sun slept-in
hung-over in netherworld
there are ten solar lights
...round the deck...
that show a random order
...when turning on...
dependent on the weather
...patterns emerge...
with a difference this evening
...with one solar blue as the sky...
hung over a buddha bust
...that night does appear as day...
it lit up first
...then switched off...
only to come back on last
...defining a metaphorical circle...
stan sand
Sperms spilled on thighs
When moon was hung over trees
To engage reverberations,
Contesting erratic moods
Outside echoes
Stitching white milk into black tears,
It was not for the deliverance
From pain of separation
And drink the eyes:
The waves died in immensity
Somewhere a dolphin dips in mind
To pick up the music
Of fences, separating ethos
And gossips of terrified oceans
Searching the sunken ship.
SATISH VERMA
Form:
He slept here overnight after a pub crawl.
I heard him vomiting in the toilet
in the early hours.
Now he is up, hung-over
eating fried eggs sunny-side up.
I remember when he used
to crawl on the floor
baby drool hanging from his smiles.
He looks up at me now with a dopey grin.
I want to tell him both `thanks' and `sorry'
I don't know why.
Years later, `thanks' and ‘sorry'
have become blurred in my mind
with the term, 'fatherhood.'
He slept here overnight after a pub crawl.
I heard him vomiting in the toilet
in the early hours.
Now he is up, hung-over
eating fried eggs sunny-side up.
I remember when he used
to crawl on the floor
baby drool hanging from his smiles.
He looks up at me now with a dopey grin.
I want to tell him both `thanks' and `sorry'
I don't know why.
Years later, `thanks' and ‘sorry'
have become blurred in my mind
with the words, “fatherhood”
and “time”.
They flocked into town.
Loud, Pushy, Laughing
They left their Tropics
To celebrate the Great Fest,
Banqueted by Instinct.
Mashing and gulping sour
Red and Purple bits,
Juice dribbling sticky
Down their Breasts,
They stumble about,
From one hung over bar,
To
Another.
Each drink Drives them
Farther until,
One
By
One
They drunkenly Crash to their Deaths
In the Windows we use
To View Them.
For Cecil...
Feelin' like a moose, I drank too much o dat juice
I was kel on All That but now I fell flat
What happened last night
Will I ever feel all right?
Lubricious waves of melconcoly cascade like a torrent of falling stars
What happened last night
Now I'm hung-over, and last nights bang is over
She kicked me out of the room
Boom boom boom
A sigh beneath the sheets. I just want to weep. When will this be over?
My brutal hangover.
What happened last night...