Short Injure Poems
Short Injure Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Injure by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Injure by length and keyword.
If you injure me, I will bite you
If you challenge me, I will fight you
If you kiss me, You will miss me.
Grant me freedom, freedom to be what I choose
Do what does not injure the lives of others
Have what I create or exchange not plunder
Not free lunch title
The car must become a freethinker
Case someone it might greatly injure
It clearly must steer
And brake and change gear
And give other bad drivers the finger
They miss the point
with their pointed finger
as if the soul can be pointed at
and found out. True the finger
does not mean to injure,
but it is so very pointed.
Ten thousand apologies do no good
should the offense injure me
Delicate, the affairs of my heart
~ think before you cleave them apart
to be a saint
injure your hands
with giving
torture your soul
with compassion
bruise your feet
with gospel journeys
bite your tongue
with preaching
leave your comfort
go to streets
sainthood is there
In wintry weather this
is the stuff that I dread.
I slip and slide to work
in the early morning -
I expect to fall and
injure myself - although
it is indeed pretty!
for Andrea's Pleiades Christmas contest
When the Internet goes down, it's basically over
Gives permission to injure the neighbor's dog Rover
Other things are permitted
Such as infidelity committed
But murder's off-limits cause that's not kosher
Did you fall? No, I was checking if gravity still works
Now that was a smart-ass answer... help! I need a nurse
Preferably a sexy one
To make me come undone
Will intentionally injure myself, first time since birth
is terrible
rich
sucker
got a Merry Christmas early this morning
anxiety free
lucky
relaxed
hungry
got i'm a dog early
tell you something
see
dirty
tell us
that's us
explain
spread it
spray'em
injure
on a long range Christmas
Why didn’t you use cardinals? Asked the one who is never pleased.
Her harsh words used to injure my feelings, take me to my knees.
Today I said, “bluebirds look so pretty with valentines, red.”
She did not make another comment, this non-artsy type, Ms. Fred.
If I was a marsupial
I would stay in mama’s pouch
Which would save me from hurting
I would never have to say “darn” or “ouch”
Never stub my toe or injure myself
Snug as a cherished vase on a bookshelf
I would stay hidden, cozy and warm
In no danger from predators or a bad storm
heave bursts from lips can both injure or heal
harsh words strike deep the bayonet’s metal
while kind words stroke soft as a rose petal
floral scent~ gardener’s sweeter appeal
AP: 2nd place 2022
Submitted on March 4, 2020 for contest KIND INK sponsored by CHARLES MESSINA - RANKED 3RD
Life is a whirlwind spinning out of control.
It's hard to keep up, and stress takes it's toll
It's like a spiral effect,
when ourselves we neglect.
When we injure our soul
it leaves a big hole.
It's hard to repair
and not taking care,
will leave you lonely
It will be just you only.
I've always worked to unveil my true self,
But some people are blind,
It’s like describing the rainbow itself,
To someone who is color blind.
Some folks are worth leaving far behind,
Neither linger nor waste your time;
They're toxic, as they've always tried,
To injure you, to keep you from your climb.
Bear your soul
Leave it open
In a stark and naked world
Where to do so
Leaves you vulnerable
To attack from others
And when they come
To injure you
It is difficult then
To trust these ones
Who stab and claw
As the flesh is flayed
From your back
And the wounds made
Never heal again.
© Paul Warren Poetry
We could cross the copse with ease
yet risk no wound to our knees,
if we'd wear our heavy boots
and watch hidden roots of trees.
a jueju (quije) March 9, 2020
4 lines, 7 syllables each.
Jungle demands ease
don't injure your knees.
Heavy hiking boots
handle those tree roots.
a jueju (wujue) written March 28, 2017
4 lines, 5 syllable each.
Bullet fire
A short period of time
When she gets back from
Que of dream
Her eyes is in the lake of
Glowing leaf
A bullet fire in a street I
Injure from my soul
Her eyes shot a bullet.
Fire when I miss you
She doesn't need gun
Then how she takes bullet.
Fire any gusse how many
Fire ?
With love all
Jagdish bajantri
Form:
rhetorical questioning
deliberately thrown
aimed bellow the belt
meant to hurt
meant to injure
meant to wound
meant to sting
all in the name
of dramatic affect
used as a means
of getting the intended
point across within
this play of swings
in mood upon the
maladaptive stage
of this unhealthy
realm of reality in
which we lived
Ugly to believe
an ugly kiss;
Ugly smeared lipstick
matches ugly swollen lips;
Ugly to pretend;
It’s ugly to be deceiving;
Ugly screams
lead to such ugly crying;
Ugly to injure;
An ugly wound bleeds
ugly silence,
since it’s ugly to complain;
Ugly as a rose
love’s ugly token;
Ugly to be smitten;
Hopeless is so ugly,
Hopeless romantic.
There are instances in nature that imitate the nature of some humans.
Tis sad but true that...
a mocking bird makes fun of another bird who sings more beautifully
a thorn pricks until it draws blood, but cannot injure the rose
a moth thinks he's classier than a pupa, until the butterfly emerges
a dog chews on a bone but he never gets to enjoy the meat
Who done it? Where did you go?
Why do you want to injure me so bad
How cannot I not live without the cold, refreshing, caffeine
drizzling down my bone dry throat, making my body roar
with pleasure and shake with pure delight. Who took the last can?
Oh, I found you. Now my tongue can tingle with my head hanging back
as the gratifying Coke proves, Its the real thing
J-ust let go of the situation,
U-nder the will of the Father;
D-on't let the pain injure
Y-our mind and soul forever.
J-ust let go of the situation,
A-fter your heart is badly hurt;
C-omfort your life with silence,
I-nstead of noise filled with dirt.
N-o reason to worry about,
T-rue God will give protection;
O-n the first of December, just let go of the situation.
Don't take me for granted,
Don't play no games.
Don't gossip about me,
Don't call me names.
Don't try to cheat me,
Don't do me wrong.
Don't steal what's mine,
Don't stifle my song.
Don't treat me like a fool,
Don't step on my pride.
Don't lay hands on me,
Don't cast me aside.
Don't belittle my friends,
Don't tell me lies.
Don't injure my family,
Don't forget I'm wise.
Short Fuse
It’s not the way it works
when I go down
I go down hard
it hurts to hit the bottom
it reprimands me
I hear your voice
but
can hardly
make a choice
so please burn the poems
if they injure you
don’t be swept away
by fire that seared me
when I was young
wrecking golden days
driving me to write
in the
heat of
the
moment
© Kim van Breda—20 December 2014