Short Jogged Poems
Short Jogged Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Jogged by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Jogged by length and keyword.
There lived a kind lady named Summer,
Her faithful spouse, he was a plumber
When her pipes became clogged,
To her rescue, he jogged
But forgot to kiss her, a bummer!
The last time you could say I actually trotted
Had diarrhea, jogged to the washroom, wasn't solid
Yelled out in relief
Avoided more grief
Big smile broke out as I staggered and hollered
Almost a breathe amongst the trees
Peace be on him
His words lightens the World
He has a recurring past
with different phrases, drifting
His jogged memory allies itself
to a multitude of thoughts
Years glancing hope shall blossom
Today rain blows over the lawn
I felt happy as a lark,
I watched an aardvark;
As I sat in a giant arc.
Next, I waved hi to Mark,
As he jogged in the park.
He wanted to catch Clarke.
Then I noticed a dog bark,
That resembled a gray shark;
Lastly, had to run; it got dark.
Alexis Y.
03/11/2022
Just as I walked through the rain,
A skoosh of perfume lingered,
It jogged my memory of you;
And for a moment,
I saw your face smiling,
And you were closer than ever before.
I turned the sight to my locked door,
But, it's deadpan;
Unlike the joy it had when you were closer.
Dear I miss you!
Just like the cloud,
My heart cries too.
FOOTPRINTS
Footprints are walked memories;
molded cerebral impressions
of traced tracks—telling
tinted stories of freedom’s journeys;
like running rivers between banks
leaving trailing residues of liberation.
Remembered footprints
tell tall towering tales
of those who’ve passed this way.
May the Most High
let mine tell tall tales
of the jubilee journey jogged
as I passed this way.
And may my marvelous ones walk
proudly in the depths of my footprints.
I jogged, one foot after the other,
Lungs wide open to welcome,
Breathings of the warm evening air,
Eyes stung at the touch of
Cruel sweat, saturated and salty.
I jogged, a flat branch overhead,
My left arm reached out to touch
The tree and its clippings,
Dwindling down the serpent's throat,
Though my fingers were amiss.
I jogged, against the moving air,
Soles hitting the ground aloud,
Bullets firing as if the sound,
Outpacing the farthest person,
All was fair and square.