Short Jaunts Poems

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


Introspected Abcs

a burdened charity dost entail
faux generosity habitually inhaled

jaunts, keepsakes left macerated
nothing omitted, personally quantitated

reason sifted through ubiquitously
vehement will yearned zealously
Form: ABC


Premium Member Why Run

Some things in life Seem natural. Riding a bike, Shoes that get scuffed, Swimming the lake, Summertime hikes. So why is it, Some people run Laps at the track, Jaunts through the park, Expanding lungs, Pain without fun. Answer is plain. The joy of time, Spent unafraid, Far from the grind, No calls to make, Time all one’s own!
Form: Rhyme

Of Byron

Rockstar status known decades ago,
Imagined greatness you alone,
Infused lines to inspire yet unordained,
Dark recesses breathing life unexplained,
A lord born of chance to pursue chosen prose,
Wound about poisonous flesh the desire,
Youth requitted and melancholic haunts,
Playing redemption to political jaunts,
Life bright burning a fever too extreme...
© Winona Fox  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Winter

Winter Miracle Man 10/22/2024 Soon our trees will lose their clothes, Also old Jack frost will nip our nose. A strong north wind will become the norm, Bringing with it our first snow storm. A new white blanket will be aground, Drifts like pillows will also be found. Roads will be slick for our Dr. jaunts, Thoughts of winter bring back the haunts.
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric

Little Shelves in Quiet Minds

Little shelves in quiet minds 
Hold unimagined worlds. 
Night-time spurs their playtime jaunts.
By dawn, a tale reshelves. 

At times, these tales may reappear 
To flirt with daytime ponder. 
If thoughts of ponder dare to shift, 
A soul may act on a wonder. 

And Fortune, guide a happy soul, 
Who wears the wonder born 
Of ponderings from shelf-life jaunts. 
They’re rare as a unicorn.
© Jo Hanson  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Three a M

Three A M August 15, 2020 By Tom I have an identity only when I’m awake, in slumber, i journey as an unknown. My jaunts sometime end long before daybreak, when dreams fall prey to the ringing phone. Melancholy quiescent isn’t draping my morning, weather is active as the new dawn breaks. But things can change, absence of warning, and as the sun rises, all of nature awakes.
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric

Premium Member Wolfman

As the wolves continued to hunt in their pack
There was nothing that they would lack
They found a man who would join the nightly hunt
Raiding the forests in their nightly jaunts
No, fear did they seem to display
Hunting at night and sleeping  by day
As each early morning sun would rose
He would find himself in a crouched up pose
It felt like he was living some strange, strange dream
For his clothes were dirty and ripped at the seams





for contest
Form: Rhyme

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