Short Knock Over Poems

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


Ruff Sex

we broke down the bed
the night we web
knock over the stand
bend beer can
broke the lamp
makeing love on the ramp
you can bet
it was
RUFF SEX


Blind Date

Thus crushing on her blind date
Causes her to knock over the plate
The food crashes to the floor
Her date runs out the door
So, she tries to determine her fate
© Daisy Ward  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Limerick

Premium Member Bestest Damn Feeling

It's said love is the bestest damn feeling ever Finding a washroom needing to pee is much better Love must wait Don't hesitate Knock over old people to avoid being a tenor
Form: Limerick

Premium Member Best Damn Feeling

It's said love is the bestest damn feeling ever Finding a washroom needing to pee is much better Love must wait Don't hesitate Knock over old people to avoid being a tenor
Form: Limerick

Premium Member Best Damn Feeling

It's said love is the bestest damn feeling ever Finding a washroom needing to pee is much better Love must wait Don't hesitate Knock over old people to avoid being a tenor
Form: Limerick


Kindergarden-Pleiades Contest

Kindergarden

Kind people watch children
Knowing safety comes first
Keeping children happy
Kicking ball trying hard
Knock over the skittles
Knees grazed when fell over
Kneel down put plaster on

Penned 10 March 2017
Form: Pleiades

Premium Member Nothing Could Budge Her

Kansas winds tried to whisk her all the way to Emerald City
She was a fragile-looking girl, but resolute, and resilient
Nothing could budge her from her self-appointed spot
The tornado sent a derecho, but even that was not enough
they could not move, budge, knock over or knock down this sprite
She had a mind that kept her upright, on her guard and on her toes.

At An Asian Supermearket

A throat tickling ambience 
of chili garlic sauce
settles over rows of Mung Bean paste
and bottles of oyster sauce.

Then clumsily 
I knock over and break a glass jar 
of hot curry powder.

The lady at the cash register
watches me jump backwards
flapping at the spicy miasma.

She is sixteen going on fifty.
Her disdainful frown speaks volumes.

I sneeze, and inwardly apologize
to a pantheon of Chinese Gods
for my sudden and wistful desire
for a White Castle slider.

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