Short Hydrants Poems

Short Hydrants Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Hydrants by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Hydrants by length and keyword.


Premium Member Soup Mail Verification

verification to send soup mail is a pain in the tush ~ forsooth

counting fire hydrants, busses, bridges and bikes ~ no one in P S likes
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Monoku


Premium Member Heat Wave

Heat from  the pavement
Rises in shimmering waves
Torrid  summer day 

Looking for relief
Fire hydrants gush cooling spray
City children play
Form: Haiku

Avalon Nl Hurricane Snow Storm

Haiku Three Verse Poem©
 
Avalon Hurricane Snowstorm 

Twas nice to see folks
Of St. John’s, Mount Pearl, surrounds
Turn a hurricane 
Snowstorm into a 
Snow clearing activity
For everybody.

Shutins, fire hydrants,
Vehicles, drive and walkways
Were all cleared with cheer.  

W.C.Hull © 2020-H1059-2170-I45-K45-3-L45-14
© W.C. Hull  Create an image from this poem.

Hot Summer Day

Mad as loons in the midday heat
Hydrants open, oh the treat.

Screaming, laughing, splashing too
Bystanders enjoying the hullabaloo.

Joyous children having fun
Cooling off beneath the Sun,

Smiling faces, having a riot.
Parents wishing they could try it.





Entry for Hot Summer Day contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
14/9/2017
© Gary Smith  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Couplet

Dead Dog Walking

Took my dead dog for a long walk today.
I like to think that some that passed by
glimpsed the whisk of her bushy tail
or heard her cheerful panting,
as she strained at the leash.

I was reading a book about Shelties,
how they were bred to be working dogs,
sheep herders,
and won’t ever be lapdogs.

Back home, both tuckered-out,
I glance down,
she is asleep already,
no doubt chasing my legs,
around a bunch
of lampposts and fire hydrants.


Old Man At the Diner

Old Man At The Diner
 

He slaughters his hamburger steak
with a fork and a butter knife,
massacres ringlets of onions
again and again
 
thumps catsup all over
the bloody commingling,
then ever so slowly
peppers and salts
 
and reminds me of Hrebic,
whose wife, back
on the block of my youth,
sat all summer out on her stoop,
 
knees awry, one eye black,
the other turning gray,
sunning the great white hydrants
of her phlebitic legs.
 
 
Donal Mahoney

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace