Short Hungarian Poems
Short Hungarian Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Hungarian by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Hungarian by length and keyword.
Eva Gabor
She is not around anymore.
For six years, she played Lisa Douglas.
Eva was a funny Hungarian-born lass.
I am an Indian
I am a Hungarian, but I am an Indian, just loving of wood, getting a try of good
I am white, but can’t be my kind, loving good, can’t you be on me a loving good
Drop my love
Get mine
Forget yours
Love
You
Need
You
My heritage is a mixture
Of backgrounds. Let's start on
My Dad's side of the family.
My Dad's mom is Irish and English.
My Dad's dad is Irish and German.
My Mom's mom is Scottish and Irish.
My Mom's dad is blood Hungarian.
So in other words,
I'm a mutt! or as others say,
"Heinz 57!"
Part calico, part Cheshire, part polecat,
kits learn secrets of disguise
from Papa Cat, king of stealth.
"Goodnight, my little ferrets,
tomorrow, we climb trees."
August 8, 2018
inspired by Hungarian "naive" art
The Cat King, Koday Laszlo
entered in Tania Kitchin's Cat Poetry Contest
Pea Soup
A lot of party people have perfect bowels.
What would it take to totally kaput Nork's military machine?
Same ferocity in battle as that one bollock corporal’s?
All along the periphery, East v West, their games of cat and mouse, thrust and parry continued.
Warpac Hungarian Hind and Yankee NATO Kiowa getting intimate in the weeds.
No one ever won; a draw.
Thirty years later Korea time destination central.
Viper v Fulcrum.
Nothing changes but the year.
sympathy for an American
fighting for freedom
now buried in the Ukraine.
he loved the orphans-
hopefully they’ll gather
at the Hungarian or polish borders
ready for pickup
of loving arms and hearts.
so many stories -
we can personalize a few.
a loving cup-
the hands of God
with the world painted
in all colors
the mountains and valleys
the sea and plains.
all the troubles nailed into the Lord’s palms.
so many stories to tell.
we can personalize a few.
2/28/2022
RUBIK CUBISTS AND OTHER MANIACS
Those cube zombies wreck my head.
Damn that Hungarian genius
And his puzzle so ingenious;
I can never get a single side all red.
And the sudoka zealots so persist:
They try 45 then change to seven -
If it succeeds: they’re in heaven.
Their numbers form some magic list.
I see them on the train, and snort:
How can they become so engrossed?
As if it mattered in the world the most.
. . . . To my crossword I resort.