Short Lunging Poems
Short Lunging Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Lunging by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Lunging by length and keyword.
godless
heartless
heathens
lunging out
from the sidelines
brutally attacking
unsuspecting
victims
doing the devil’s work
in the dead of night
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Heart
Flutters
Agitates
For expansion
Lunging at illusions ephemeral
Eternal not found in the external
Search shifts within
Tranquil calm
Clear light
Dawns
17-October-2020
what am i doin in this bed,
what is that big shiela, Fred,
oh my God, just strike me ded,
she's lunging at me,
she's flattened Ned....
re:
Russell Sivey 'sweet sweet passion'
Don
If a girlie says... “wanna gwout tweet?”
Uncategorically say YES, she might mean a treat
Cute little phrases
Can lead to long gazes
Then rocking and rolling and lunging to a beat
Late night's repartee
flashes
dueling swift swords...
lunging
for a point
a masked dancer
slips from his
delicately
balanced beam
Moon sinks
Stars surrender
Poof ~
into darkness night's plunged
Soft is the call of the night
She whispers to me in the rustle
of leaves ‘neath an ancient breeze
For time runs headlong into the chasm
~ lunging at moments already passed
I can't hear, said the man to his wife
Did you say, that you're holding a knife?!
with her hands hid behind
a smile not truly kind
Lunging forward he sprang for his life!
Submission for poetry contest: Spring Forward (Limerick)
In this town or nation of ours I felt that one house
is a palace at least globalization raises such fact
that sometimes tis nationalism and patriotism?.
I did not mean the other houses felt most or water
that is why blue or dimness lunging
however just like politics the door is better.
This is the best of times
materially
This is the worst of times
spiritually
We live like Kings
never satisfied
The more we acquire
the more we desire
Our souls obsessed
with glittering doo-dads
Lunging wildly ~
FOMO on the latest fads
Though the credits are long past being done
We refuse to let our story end
The writers have become erratic
The plot a three time rerun
I read a scene that I have played
It’s now your part
I sit silently and watch
Your character has not rehearsed
You are broken and bloody
Simultaneously reaching out for help
While lunging for the kill
Promiscuous shadows haunt the night
Forging their maps by day
Passing through the ethereal unseen
Lunging lurid luscious
Empires of sadistic interludes teach verse
In exchange for tempered instrumental falsetto
How can the night be so quiet?
In your city, on your street
Inside
Without warning.
A dog barks and out bursts
The answer.
I woke to billowing curtains
lunging in the breeze,
and the scent of jasmine
thick against the glass.
This once-orderly garden, gone sparse:
unkempt grass and the bougainvillea—
and that persimmon tree we loathe,
heaving with an over-abundance
of ripening fruit.
The early sun casts a hazy pillar
to weight the bedroom floor.
Don’t wake me.
Deep erupt tracheal cry;
Gypsy shrill into the sky,
Passion soars, raking air,
Igniting like a solar flair.
Lunging tones as pleas profound,
Accelerate away from ground.
Deeper zeal that pulses forth,
With pain as waves of emotions court,
Beseeching shaft as fast as light,
Ripping shreds of cosmic night.
Humankind has made its mark,
And roared its presence in the dark!
The dogs were barking up their lungs
Lunging at the door, as if there were murderers in the yard
I said to my husband “maybe we should not answer the door.”
No one tells that man what to do. He went marching out.
Nothing out there, he told me.
The dogs went running out to chase someone we could not see.
“spirit people,” my husband and I both agreed.
We see this at least once a day.
Always wondering if they ever catch the culprit.
Creaking floorboards, banging doors
Moans and grunts fill the air.
The atmosphere seems heavy and thick
suffocating everything as it swirls.
Lunging shadows that chase after you
as you slip terrified through the trees.
Rustling sounds in the undergrowth
have you whirling round to nothing.
They take on new meaning in the
dark of the night made scarier
by ourselves and our fear of what
lurks where we can not see. "The Darkness".
Scottish dog sits on his Celtic mama’s lap
Barking, growling, and lunging at every sap
Who dares to try to court his mama, Miss LaBlap.
You’ll never get married, says her Grandpa Rap.
That may be says his granddaughter, who likes to clap.
But I need my doggie, he keeps suiters from annoying me during my nap.
You are the only woman I know who likes being single said Grandma Rap.
Scottish dog began growling at her too, and lunged at her lap.
My heart fades, quivering lips whisper goodbye
Lightning flashes, thunder shakes the empty sky
Despair fills the mind of constant broken time
Sand flows endlessly within a crooked line
Demons soar with lunging attacks on my life
Falling crumbs from the cut loaf of a bread knife
Scraped scarred knees continue to bow toward light
This repeated battle with evil I fight
Ottava rima poetry form only.
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS
Date: 09/06/2022