Short Matures Poems
Short Matures Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Matures by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Matures by length and keyword.
Aging is not for the faint of heart
smile lines bags and cellulite sags
Your butt begins to fall apart
As your mind matures wisdom hacks.
prime yellow matures ochre
spongy bananas
mottled flesh skinned, battered, baked
banana karma
dusted with walnuts
raised afresh
crunch
Our Love is sure, as sure can be sure.
Our love is pure, as pure can be pure.
Our love matures as we mature.
Our love endures as we endure.
a thousand seasons
undisturbed the tree matures
timeless summer shade
08/19/2019
Checked with howmanysyllables.com
tides post
watch me
as for to yourself human
certain everything,behold
haul from later call me
irresistible but pains
after a moment
man matures,behold
When love matures in you! Everything is of its own. Love never loved us yet we love to love it to love the ones we love.
Love is uncertain.
Love the spoken word...
Love me for me!
The aging of time,
each year to endear
from cradle to grave
the future unclear
The aging of time,
whose toddler matures
to crawl and then walk
—as moments endure
(Dreamsleep: April, 2022)
as the time grows reaches its goal
as the time passes all grow and matures
with in time whole game exists
Pink flamingo had a flaming personality for sure.
The highhanded words he used were always so pure.
He kicked off a shoe and it landed smack into manure.
This made him a little less uppity, but a bit more mature.
From at to eye imagination alights and explodes.In another's minds eye..matures,excites,ignites..impregnates,conceives..birthes a new creative impulse.
the melodic effect
this beauty of sound..
stays upon the ear
From at to eye imagination alights and explodes.In another's minds eye..matures,excites,ignites..impregnates,conceives..birthes a new creative impulse.
The melodic effect
this beauty of sound..
stays upon the ear
Christ consciousness in each awakes
Bliss magnetism, like a snowflake
Gentle caress, heightened rapture
Love lotus blooms, our soul matures
Gently flowing breeze; no handbrake
05-August-2021
THE ETERNAL ROSE
Yes a rose has its beauty
Only seen by the eyes
But as a rose matures
That beauty fades and dies
But a women
As she matures
Only grows more beautiful day by day
For unlike a rose
Her beauty is in who she is
And that never fades away
By Mr. E. Jones
Form:
Datura(belladonna perhaps in another form)
Matures the galaxy in jealousy despising love
Releasing jasmines death twisting Aphrodite's heads upon loves rewinding failures
Creation in question
Call from my mouth your kindness
Respond silence
Squander obnoxious craft
Illness requires me
And again
I disappear your vapors
The love we had
The same love we lost
What was given from God,
You soon tossed
Took me for granted
We said goodbye
I wish you'd recanted,
Given some sort of reply
I was yours,
Every part of me
Your pain matures,
Mine is set free
My heart is open
To everyone, but you
The love I gave
The same love I took back from you.
Every woman has in her interior
A flower-bed in her fertile heart
That grows green and matures
For every man in moody life
To harvest the choice in awe
But there is sharp knife in hand
To cut open man’s bone heart
That in it a hut she builds stiff
To live there to serve and nurse
The vacillating mood of men
That knows no limits of action
I know that God
would not create me
Less than perfect
(a Good Father
always wants best
for His Children,
more than Himself
when possible)--we evolve
in Love
and as understanding
matures we grow in Spirit,
Mind, Soul and Body—
nearer His Likeness
We are substance of
God—nothing existing
outside His Being,
Omnipotent
and Immortal….
The moon light dimming
Helicopter up above
Matures too enjoy
Baby claps like man
under the ceiling Dim light
grasshopper's chirping
A curious stream of light
penetrates a tiny puncture
through the window blind
lending vision to sight
At first I just glance
but very quickly
it grows in height
directing all my attention
like a guiding moon
supervising the night
These moments unborn
time slowly matures
light blinks away
taking a pulsating dive
perception of light
projected on my wall
makes me feel alive
If we notice that this world
will change over time
because cities rejuvenate
with the years...
If the landscapes change
before our eyes,
If green turns yellow
when it matures
that white, darkens in the sun..
Why don't we portend
that life will carry on
in due time,
or with another time...
life is already eternal
such a long time...
Life is poetry within and a poem...
Poetry is God,
God does not die...!
Since I was blessed to land here,
One matures…….as a young deer.
To be popular, is not my desire.
But to grow in desire, for poetry’s fire.
To be above all, graced with humility.
Do I try new forms in a mad frenzy?
For me, that simply…is not my style.
Truth, beauty, but never high profile!
The rain kisses the earth, as I now write.
Unable to pen of matters, rude or too trite.
12/2/2022
545.
Learning Child & Adolescent Development
A Prof. Ed. subject – Child & Adolescent Development
It is a study of human enhancement
From our pre-birth sojourn
Until we are born
We develop physically, mentally, holistically
We behold the changes in our personality
Just like our body that grows & matures
Teaching too must be developed as learning endures!
-03/25/2017
(Dumarao)
*PEN Poems
Going against the norms
Standing for the odds
Attracts its query
Whiles a baby's cry matures into speech
Odds are norms, for all reason to it
Although was not emphatic, now a fact
Brave hearts may shatter
Strong hands may wrinkle
Minds of steel might melt
Visionary souls might fade-out
That is the quest of standing for the odd
The very one to enforce breaks the norms
On this path much is lost
Respect is gained
©Kofi Asokwa-Nkansah
When the hunted becomes a hunter
Surprising, it may seem
Unbelievable , it may look
It overwhelms the soul
Must I say more
When the victim becomes a victory
Anxiously, it may formulates
Unwired, it navigates
It conquers what meant to be done
Wiping the sweat from the face
When the story becomes a reality
Narrowly, it leads
Moderately, it progress
It matures as it grows
The writer writes until it cannot write no more
Can I write
Until my pen dries
Until my pupils dilate
And my brain itches
Until my fingers rust
And my glasses dust
Until my heart twitches
Can I scream
Until my throat sores
Until my lungs shrivel
And my voice disappears
Until my veins bulge
And my overwhelm is capitulated
Until my eyes tear
Can I love
Until wars end
Until the universe bends
And death revives
Until a child matures
And hatred cures
Until forever dies
Form: