Short Ironed Poems
Short Ironed Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Ironed by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Ironed by length and keyword.
My son, the college professor
comes home for a visit.
He leaves with all his shirts
ironed, my heart on
every sleeve.
Up hill down hill and round about
Beautiful West Virginia route
This state may be small
But I tell you all
Big as Texas if ironed out
Clean city begins
cleaning the parks,
be careful with the sidewalks,
trees taken care of ...
And brushed teeth,
showered
well washed clothes
and ironed.
in the closet
ironed
impassive clothes
just eager for
my gestures
sophisticated
of Sunday...
How sad... !
I am
pure routine
of mondays
disorganized,
but ecstatic...
fresh rhinestone snowflakes
Grandma’s hanky
furry Christmas ****
Star of Bethlehem
Scalloped lace pinafore
Daddy’s ironed collar
clean glistening memories
the whites of Christmas
Want God To Remove My Hurt
Want to have God remove all of my hurt;
While reading Bible becoming more alert;
Sermon heard,
When occurred;
Glad wife ironed wrinkles from my shirt.
Jim Horn
Two stubborn brothers were in a little imbroglio
Their annoyed wives had given up on peace
Their children’s cousin’s hearts were rich and full
Ironed in love and unity, nary a cross word or crease
A bride-to-be I stood lone
Surrounded by uncles and aunts
Flowers in every nook
But alas no groom
Hands decorated with love
Red dress ironed and perfumed
All expectantly await
But where is the groom?
Smoldering diadems
unwrap our parliament.
Superstitious super-intelligence
composing the lost years ironed to death,
crisp,
and smooth,
yet still dead.
The world is ending,
yet I can only think of you.
It’s not all easy being favoured as a great gifted poet
All this deigning and stooping just to let people know it
But that’s not the worse of it and irritating much more
Is my fresh ironed toga keeps on snagging the door
It’s not all easy being favoured the great gifted poet
All a deigning and stooping just to let people know it
But that’s not the worse of it and irritating much more
Is my fresh ironed white toga repeatedly snags the door
Tomorrow is another day
Miss Scarlet taught me that.
So on my pillow head will lay
in arch of back my cat.
My 'coutrements are washed and ironed
so I can hit snooze twice.
My cylinders are justly oiled
think I'll sleep well, that's nice.
crispy verbs you let me use
after you were done
ironed out by my tongue
nestled between my cheek
and gum
Spit brown
tobacco sounds
rolled and chewed
imbued with your borrowed life
spat out against the
burning canvas of my mind
a crisp clean white lace collar
pink sweater with tiny pearl buttons
dainty floral cotton dress
a blue suit with a matching tie
freshly ironed linen shirt
shiny black shoes
this dance is either
at a retirement home
or a day care center
She
ironed
clothes full day
to educate
her son, wanted to make him a doctor.
He studied whole night under street light and
fulfilled mother's
wish. She shed
tears of
joy
Photo used : 2
Date: 11/24/2020
For years she ironed and starched all his clothes
she was haunted by demons like Emily Rose
when put to the test
who would have guest
that guttural sound sent the waves to her toes.
July 15, 2022
Sponsor Lisa YY
Contest Name Limerick
It is not all easy being favoured as a great gifted poet
All this deigning and stooping just to let people know it
But that is not the worse of it and irritating much more
Is my fresh ironed toga keeps on snagging the door
(PS I wanted to tick humour but it was spelled humor!)
A mist led Sunday morning,
Indian Ocean walked beyond the territories,
Dressed in black cloth like a no moon night,
Some Banks sank under the Tsunami waters,
Currency notes floating like paper boats,
Dressed in wetness,
Launders came and ironed all the flood washed notes!
Make do with what you have
company coming and feeling modest
Tidy up and dust a spot
Wear clean clothes and put out the
good bath towels
Straighten that rug, no toss it in the closet
a scented candle, too much
The living room curtains washed and ironed
A knock on the door
welcome them in with a smile
Controlling my heart like cruise control,
Manually jerking the gears of my life,
His crashing waves of love,
Determined to sink Hate's lifeboat.
The tissue of my tears,
Wiping the winshield into reality,
Honorable suits,
Wrinkled by Todays,
Ironed by Tomarrows.
Deeper than trenches is his love for me.
Sleeping through the stress
Soiled in mixed silence
Jotting every joke in justice
Like the lies of lilac
Calling itself clear
But feels like a beauty
Arranged clothes for the weeks job
Just to see souls happy at dusk
Laughing out loud
While remembering their loss as mere thinking
Oh the joys of feeding
I am Bloated
It’s not all easy being favoured as a great gifted poet
All this deigning and stooping just to let people know it
They do deign but I just do so to see them pass
Tomorrow perhaps worse they want to kiss my ****
But that’s not the worse of it and irritating much more
Is my fresh ironed toga keeps ruddy snagging the door
Your a child
i heard at my death
honed my palate
on ironed brews
maleficent was hot
even pre angels lean
theres me talking to myself behind my back
Losing distance in a musical haze
If only he would ho me ld
One once once
Two too to
Three tree triceratops
Slicing light in twain
with a shadows skim
oopsing the moments
my steps towards the back of the bus
on seat one he looked quite dopey
seat two smiled as i made my way past
on three a doctor
suit ironed to his skin
His neighbour blew his nose
beside him head against the window fast asleep
On seat six a grump refused to move his bag
the next would not meet my gaze
At the back of the bus
the pallid queen to be
grazes teeth upon the apple red
At the front row gain a flag off,
as compared to them in the back.
So the life underdogged,
starting by the rulers.
Zig zagging through a bulk of them,
maneuvered without wings.
I’m gonna bonk at 15 miles.
So life is bonked, trying suck all of the drops.
Gotta slow down as life rotes.
The pace slaps in head, hallucinate the finish line.
As life dreams of the dead, when the gold is ironed.