Short Locks Poems
Short Locks Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Locks by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Locks by length and keyword.
So tanned and pert
Ebony locks cascade, flow
Beauty astride me
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-10.php
Old Lady Long Locks
Lived in a long box
But one rainy day
The box washed away
Now she lives in a barn full of lots
Of golden-brown hay
Old Lady Long Locks
Lived in a long box
But one rainy day
The box washed away
Now she lives in a barn full of lots
Of golden-brown hay
Different keys
One suit only
For one true lock.
Too many keys
Too many locks
One master key.
A ruin lock
Can be repaired
By locksmith.
Unbuttoning slowly her blouse
Soft firm breast, whispering
Their flames of desire..
She could not hide, the want
Her beautiful eyes; fondling
Sucking; silk, melting in my heart.
After all these many years, I've still got much hair
Must thank Mom and Dad for bequeathing my share
Of gorgeous white locks
It totally rocks
Ladies clamour to check out my other wares
After all these many years, I've still got much hair
Must thank Mom and Dad for bequeathing my share
Of gorgeous white locks
It totally rocks
Ladies clamour to check out my other wares
ah Coffeetop Locks
be the witch’s fox
a cunning you pair
in hand on the fringe
of village life wings
but inward at night
for her work
where you light
then quickly on hocks
ah Coffeetop Locks
Think outside the box
Shed your shackles, chains and locks
Break through all the rocks
Stones will drag you down
To the depths until you drown
An albatrossed clown
Free your soul and mind
Be in one day at a time
And you will unwind
Your coffee locks as soft as silk,
incensed with rich vanilla milk,
exotic as southern isles
extend for nautical miles
against tamarind skin flowing,
like radiant sunbeams glowing
upon my dreamy fixation,
beaconing my exploration.
1-3-2020
Pretty Curly Locks Horn Haiku
Pretty curly locks
We are in a state of shock
Only wore her socks.
Wife Jill said that her hair
keeps curling up and everyone
loves it that way. I do too.
Jim Horn
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poets/top_100_poets_most_poems_all_time.aspx
Form:
She is a door creaking with the burden of secrets,
he, a latch turned halfway to the outside world.
Where she hides tempests, he guards stillness,
yet when they come together, there’s a wordless connection:
the unlocking of something hidden,
neither complete until the other shifts.
His rainment bleak
Snarls of hair matted
Bloated shoes mud-streaked
Wisps of hair unhatted
Muttered imprecations
Hiding teeth jagged
A bedraggled skeleton
Cursing Nature, near-ragged
Those with golden locks
and eyes of deep blue
Face the mirror squarely
Could his image have been you?
I remember my first impression of him,
He was always so very handsome.
I remember my second impression of him,
He always offers hosting a threesome.
I remember his long luscious locks of hair,
He looked so beautifully happy without care.
I remember him saying he shaved his hair,
He must look so handsome still, but unaware.
Oxfords alteSchleusen
Das Gurgeln des Wassers am Abend
Sonst nur noch Stille
------------------------------------------
Old locks of Oxford
Gurgling of water at sundown
Otherwise only silence
------------------------------------------
Presas antiguas de Oxford
El gorgoteo del agua en la noche
Por lo demás sólo silencio
ST. Paddy Day today. I'm wearing my green, and I celebrate with my 100th poem posted
since coming here before Xmas! and I will probably lay off the limericks now until next year!
With hair much too short, one vain poet
took magic beans so she could grow it.
Like Jack's giant bean stalk
quickly grew each gold lock!
Now her hair has no place she can stow it!
She did not like what she saw,
A damsel without her locks.
Her face looks forlorn,
In mourning for her lost locks.
She did not like what she saw,
A scalp without her mane.
But her resolve tell it all,
She will just be sad in vain.
She did not like what she saw,
But wailing will give more pain.
Her resolve in the long run,
Is to see the loss as a gain.
Trudging through the snow, her cubs lag behind...oblivious
Haven't seen a seal for days, perhaps weeks
There are few ice-bergs left to hunt upon
Adrift in the ocean...think again
It's not a coincidence fossils of mammoths are being found more than ever
Soon you won't need your pithy pants...or snow shoes
Soon...someone might be sleeping in your bed
Pithy Pants 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Maureen McGreavy
2/14/2019