Short Inventory Poems
Short Inventory Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Inventory by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Inventory by length and keyword.
Not many make time today
to teach young'uns right from wrong
So many sides to every story
teachers busy taking inventory
In the inventory of misery,
there are those who are proud
of being worse than others...
this is the most abject form
of being proud!
.
I
just
made an
inventory of
all my body parts
......................................
and I am heavily overstocked
in all the wrong
places
.
All that's gone and all that's left
in the candy inventory, of illusions
what still sublimates me...
The shadow of dreams, at parties
scenery of memories, seasons... !
that I lived...!
At the Olympics, there should be a new category
Called Unique Sex Positions for Olympic glory
We all have techniques
We think are unique
Let's share with the world our sexual inventory
I ain’t no phoney
Just full of bologna (E)
Doing the fifth step
Will keep me Kept
Doing inventory
Kinda like a story
Humbling myself
Feels like nothing else
Asking for help
So I can play the cards Dealt
I am in love with words,
I crave for these,
I feel hunger for these words,
These are mine current assets,
I prepare budget to work on these, how can i increase my inventory, where can i spend so these can be double or tripple unequivocally.
he said he was looking for something
the things that he had missed
the things that others have
as he shows her his list
she said she'd help him find it
and she peruses what he needs
she smiles and gives it back
saying this inventory is me
Wednesday Blasts Intrigue now,
Constantianus Flinches Inventory
Wednesday Atomizes Flutteriness now,
Dulcitius Plunges Editorial
Tuesday Bursts Giggliness now.
Tribunas Implements Snakes
Saturday Annihilates Disappoint now,
Maximianus Observes Zones
Men would rave,
we have invented a machine,
to be our slave.
Sorting, processing and retrieving,
with inventory and payroll functions,
all tasks beyond believing.
In the end, we have to say,
multiplying work for the master,
the computer has had it's way.
Smiles and hugs all around
Champagne paints the town
President-elect waves with his Veep
Campaign workers laugh and they weep
The Campaign basks in its glory
Tonight's no time for inventory
But starting early tomorrow morning
An angry America resumes warring
Who has claimed
the highest
perch as I lurch
into the supermarket
for more inventory
to tell my story.
Sea birds roosting
on the superstore roof,
or cruising its parking
lot: it's what they've
got, and here's the proof.
It's not their fault
they're far from salt.
We're to blame.
owls do not have a lot of control of their bowels
they manage inventory in a bookstore named McPowell’s
If you are looking for books on fouls, fans or vowels
or picture books of thick rod dowels or fluffy pink towels
Watch your head because McPowell’s owls cannot control their bowels
Keg full of monkey j*zz
Jar packed with grime
Little tank of tiny turtles
Pot of slug slime.
Shaker full of flea larvae
Small box of moss
Squeeze-tube of mushy meat
Flask of dog sauce.
Leeches in a cookie tin
Ice tray of blow
Now can you play to win
This cooking show.
I am beginning to wonder about Trump. Every candidate
should have to take the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality
Inventory (MMPI), Wechsler Bellevue, Stanford Benet,
Miller Analogies and Kuder Interest Test. This would prove
just how normal each one of the candidates are.
Jim Horn
Form:
Shallow Graves
By: Tom Wright
10-2005
Our memory is a place filled with shallow graves,
where no painful thing can be buried so deep,
that Satan can’t excavate it.
Our memory is like a storage locker,
in that it stores our thoughts,
but allows us to inventory them periodically.
Thought For Today
12/11/2024
Miracle Man
Sometimes it's our attitudes,
that influences our day’s floe.
Our day can start good or bad,
or perchance it's just so-so.
God can adjust attitudes,
oft with some unforeseen test.
Causing our inventory,
of just how He has blessed.
Do you have what it takes
Do you have stage legs
That won’t break?
Can you make eye contact
Do you know the difference
Between compare and contrast?
Can you weather the storm
In spite of illusionary harm?
If you meet all the criteria than you’re the one
Who’s conquered inferior and your
Confidence is superior
Long day did finally pass;
toiled along vexing its morass.
Arrived back home to rest and retire;
energy and inspirations soon to expire.
Debrief my conceptions and thoughts;
queery my moves and those aught nots.
Lay at ease to stargazes and dreams;
job well done for me it seems.
http://skykingentertainment.yolasite.com/
In my poetic inventory
To the earth i leave
my lovely body, to
wind the dust
of my dreams...
To the sea nothing
I leave of concrete,
but I offer it
my sympathy...
To heaven I wave a
so long, to
stars a wave of friendship...
To my angels my
tenderness ...
To men
my advice and
to my women
most intimate
verses...!
Adam was an
acceptable accountant
And Eve a bubblingly
bright bookkeeper;
Adam loved the
First-In, First-Out
Accounting (FIFO) system,
While Eve preferred
The Last-In, First-Out
Inventory (LIFO) system;
Together they testified that
Inventoried sweet fruit
should neither
Sits and spoil
nor go to the
Garden wastebasket
Wrongfully.
a truth may as well be a lie ~ amid words acting a-priori
one goes for the visceral ~ luridly adding guts to be gory
two tries reducing terror ~ adaptation for the montessori
three wants to deny ~ with a false alibi in their inventory
most relevant side of any said story ~ evidence not glory
The Minecraft world is vast and hard
My lone puppy acts like a retard
Finally I earn
For what I yearn;
Mushroom Stew
A creeper blows up
Just my luck
What I need
What makes my eyes bead;
Mushroom Stew
Caving I go
In my inventory I stow
A full jar
Of what will make me go far;
Mushroom Stew
Everyday day I brew
To keep my life starting anew
I will keep eating it,
My precious Mushroom Stew
She died of an overdose
Heroin, like spiderwebs
Separating millions of core-nerves
From reality-living neutral
Until coals revive blanc
Sorrows, child left behind
Awaiting distress
I found her flower etched
Jeans, in my office
I threw them into the trash
Her beauty crushed
What could have become?
What could have
Become?
12/03/11
My beads tell a story, shedding light on
mother Africa's Herstory.
The
African story told by African inventory.
Without these beads I feel bare like a
breeze leaves the dandelions.
The African story told by African
inventory.
The colorful beads my ancestors wore...
Glistening beads on silky
chocolate skin. These beds we wear,
speak numerous things.
These beads tell a story of pride and self
Glory!