Short Legacies Poems
Short Legacies Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Legacies by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Legacies by length and keyword.
All we are
is weight
in water.
In this struggle
between self and the
mouth of the ocean
we write our legacies
…some stories make
it to the surface for
a gasp of life.
A FABLE
a leprechaun
once a frog himself... was kissed
now immortal
the tale a myth
all life comes to an ending
tales... life’s legacies
Clearly you see the darkness shadowed light stream still
Foretold is your future memories in stories they reveal
Ancestors inheritors legacies in the wind
Today is forever clearly you see the end
oh what a wonderful group we make
as we pen our poems and take a break
our traits range from weird to strange
in all probability certifiably deranged
leaving legacies of genius in our wake
May we be blessed as parents to know…
when thinking about our legacies…
We can hand down houses, cars and money to our children
but the greatest legacy we can leave them
are happy memories.
Pick up the picture,
Half are gone,
Deceased and gone,
I wish-
I could bring those eras back,
The eras of beloved ladies living,
True ladies of legacies,
Left us all behind,
Now onward we press.
It was the legacy of legacies
Three dead men
It was the legacy of legacies
Three dead men
Two were thieves
One was a heretic
One other was spared
Many sparrows have flown since then
And many have died
Legacies of the now and the after
Blossoms and glooms in a cycle
A breech of sadness and laughter
Thoughts of the past in the present
The after life dreaded thoughts
These are thoughts of the after life
(Written 12/08/2024)
GENES.
Galloping in body
Gain characteristics
Gear up heredity
Govern peculiar traits
Ground parental glimpses
Gaily offspring reflect
Gadget for legacies.
Contest-PLEAIDES-G
Sponsor-Kim Merryman.
3/11/2016
Siphoned light gropes passengers
Hopeful for luminescent hearts,
Arching underneath bombazine drapes
Dusted with passionate legacies
Of original sin and the primogeniture son,
Wicked for nighttime plots savouring
Spicy love, exponential in a vivid darkness.
Collectors, traveling from far,
Dig in ashes piled behind
The weather-whitened, ghost-town bar:
Whiskey bottles there to find.
A hundred years have come to pass:
Cowboys—gamblers—girls—all dead.
Half-buried legacies of glass
Gleam beneath the rotting shed.
Your eyes speak loud
So loud it buzzes beyond the ears could hear
Remember to call my name
When thy heart received a gift of pain
Never think twice
Never hesitate
For I'll be here as long as I live
Far beyond afterlife
Just call my name
Say it softly as I linger through thee
Inside
my head
the living
and the dead
faces
voices
places
of my past
being
breathing
there in my
reality
vibrant
remembered
yesteryears
abound
vivid
sounds
surround
in cameo
Iridescent hues of fallacy
Mask the chains that pierce
This bruised soul…
Born with burn stains
Of her native land
Tattooed in tiding teardrops…
Her cascading locks
Choke a history of
Troubled legacies…still
Visible are remnants
Of a crimson flag
Permanently adorning
Her battered life’s past…
Lay
Gentle wind kindled fire
stillness voice to admire
flute that rises the fear
pointing direction clear
inconceivable time
attractions in potion divine
loosing oneself in vision
ecstasies by decision
continuance uncertainties
life’s forever little legacies
faith that firms through trials
grace and its invisible smiles
Halls of steel and concrete,
massive Cyclopean towers
of immodesty where moguls
bask in gross extravagance.
Children in neglect,
souls with haggard faces,
ekeing out their livelihoods
with hopes and modest means.
Versions of prosperity;
the rich man pads his pockets while
the poor man haunts his tenement,
struggling to smile.
one heart
meets another
two
becomes one
Soon,
two beget
one
grows
to see
two
as if
one
Forever
a part
of each
remains
bonded
in him
or her
'til
that heart
meets
another...
Our thoughts create our reality;
inventions, wealth, fame, and legacies
are testimonies to that fact.
Before we came to be,
there were other creations already;
stars, sun, dinosaurs, oceans….
The creations are a testimony of an existence
of a Creator who doesn’t know time!
As manifestations of the Creator,
we are gods in our own right.
Our thoughts create our reality;
inventions, wealth, fame, and legacies
are testimonies to that fact.
Before we came to be,
there were other creations already;
stars, sun, dinosaurs, oceans….
The creations are a testimony of an existence
of a Creator who doesn’t know time!
As manifestations of the Creator,
we are gods in our own right.
Immortality looking invincible,
Athena's arpon arsing shadows,
Amazonite unfading Athenaeum species,
A lasting blade for an immortal legacies,
Fallacies befall the inconsistencies,
Fragrances crash the inconveniences...
Extinction of lives is overturned by heavenly bliss,
Angels are guardian spirits,
Humanity is saved,
Hell is dead.
I am the sum of the ages
beginning before my mother,
before my grandmother,
and before my grandmother's mother.
I am the product of their matriarchal choices,
the quotient of their actions, reflections, and self-images.
I am the difference of their generations.
And I bequeath the equation of this inheritance
to the matrices of my living legacies.
Ghosts in my mind, I feel your influence
And value your life and legacy.
I hear your voice through the years
And feel regret that you have gone,
That time and death separate us.
I see the need to perpetuate
Those beginnings which you held dear,
To collect the fragments of your dreams
And carry them forward with my own
So that the meaning of your life remains.
Playing football earned me a concussion
Basketball tore the cartilage in my knee
Running cross-country sprained me my ankle
While boxing knocked the sense out of me
Throwing a curveball ruined my elbow
Swimming lap after lap did 'fix' my shoulder
My erratic golf swing left my back in a knot
And I've arthritis everywhere, now I've grown older
...for Hart Crane
Halls of steel and concrete,
massive Cyclopean towers
of immodesty where moguls
bask in gross extravagance.
Children in neglect,
souls with haggard faces,
ekeing out their livelihoods
with hopes and modest means.
Measures of prosperity;
the rich man pads his pockets while
the poor man haunts his tenement,
struggling to smile.
...for Hart Crane
Halls of steel and concrete,
massive Cyclopean towers
of immodesty where moguls
bask in gross extravagance.
Children in neglect,
souls with haggard faces,
ekeing out their livelihoods
with hopes and modest means.
Measures of prosperity;
the rich man pads his pockets while
the poor man haunts his tenement,
struggling to smile.