Short Monitors Poems
Short Monitors Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Monitors by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Monitors by length and keyword.
Ten monitors
Nine hours
Eight safety messages
Seven binders
Six coffees
Five computers
Four clipboards
Three maps
Two microphones
One stubby pencil
I recall the old school desks,
Ink for fountain pens a pesk,
Ink wells with lots of blots,
Blotting paper smudged the lot,
There was ink on all our hands,
Ink monitors in history's land!
Bus monitors, support staff, heed this plea, before you are home free. Be vigilant, Check every corner, crevice, every nook you see. A child left behind, abandoned in fear, Is a wound and stain that sears.
Time in life is a thorn
Time made you conceived
Time made you to be born
Time monitors your growth
Time will make you to die
But time will not allow you
To live forever on earth
Time will tell you to go
And leave this beautiful planet
hands flying around tv monitors.
playing tennis, feeling like john mcenroe
with my headband on and nintendo
remote in hand.
coffee tabled comentators
add to the suspense, break point,
mental note play to his backhand
and dont trip over the couch.
Form:
The man
with the scythe
is having his way
with your day.
You think it's no 'biggie'?
It's like the coins
in your Piggy-
you counted eleven,
he calls it seven,
says he's the brethren
who delivers you
to heaven. His is
the power that
monitors your
hour.
Chickens
Much better things to use chickens for are:
waiters, school crossing
monitors, paper
weights, door
stoppers, getting us
soda cans, handing us
toilet paper, mowing the
lawns, changing channels on the
TV, washing cars, reading to
us before we go to
bed.
Stillness seeds this cell
of death-borne illness,
underscores the needs
of one who cannot
function by himself.
Bedsheets icy white,
blooming flowers
in bright profusion
litter uselessly.
Monitors wink, blink
their indifference;
scant recognition,
little consolation for
a father and his
sorrow-stricken son.
Stillness seeds this cell
of death-borne illness,
underscores the needs
of one who cannot
function by himself.
Bedsheets icy white,
blooming flowers
in bright profusion
litter uselessly.
Monitors wink, blink
their indifference;
scant recognition,
little consolation for
a father and his
sorrow-stricken son.
Stillness seeds this cell
of death-borne illness,
underscores the needs
of one who cannot
function by himself.
Bedsheets icy white,
blooming flowers
in bright profusion
litter uselessly.
Monitors wink, blink
their indifference;
scant recognition,
little consolation for
a father and his
sorrow-stricken son.
I am not astonished at all:
If someone stepped in your front,
And bully You like a moron.
You will find being forlorn
In a Helpless complexion
Even though Many people
And many monitors out there
Looking on you
As you are too unfamiliar
To the onlookers
And too common
To the monitors,
Achieving an open Robber
Everything went silent
The monitors and doctors panicked voices
everything went dead
I knew I was dying
The first night is the worst
Doctors not knowing if you'll really make it
Stress levels rising
Hearts breaking
Tears being cried all over the country in my name
Pressure rising
Everything went quiet
As I stopped to breathe
A bottle of sore throat relief spray lies on my desk
Along with sixteen torn up pages of past written poems
My cell phone sits here too, a box of Kleenexes, six notebooks
There are two computer monitors on this desk
I like clutter, it makes me feel safe and loved
Is that a barrette? I watch it moving steadily away
A tiny pincher bug, adding a bit of life to this mess
Big brother stands still watching
His monitors, from on high
Evil always gets the switch
The switch that says goodbye
One day, he sees a lovely lass
He wants her, but there's a glitch
She loves the one that loves her
He stares at the goodbye switch
He knows, what he has to have
He gives the switch a shove
But big brothers, big brother
Stands watching from above
It must feel good to say at last
The ceiling is shattered
And the door is open
It must feel good
But I looking at the ceiling
Think of icy rains
Monitors on my feet instead of chains
Weevils dancing in the hoarded grains
And blind men wiping at dark blood stains
It must feel good at last to belong
To see your face on the totem pole
Hear the world sing your song
Muting the lyrics meaning about the cold
I am Satan’s prophet God is using,
Because He is certain Satan is losing:
Another thousand pigs to surely perish
The Homeless Anew to this not cherish.
The Devils mouthpiece God monitors his megaphone:
In the end, God’s Messages in Satan’s tone
This, the latter not happy to condone
Because in me has built his throne…
Yep, Satan’s script God keeps editing
Satan from it not much eliciting
And would soon cease soliciting.
The soft swell of the sea
Waves rise from its floor
The surge of the tide
As it crashes to shore.
The rustle of leaves
Flutter in the wind
The spell of the forest
Creatures lurking within.
Could even these I forget
In my daily routine
Of Patients and Monitors---
No window between?
The vortex path into my soul, mirrored in projection
On the outside looking in, a window of reflection
Disabled by an art of choice, a blinding writ emotion
Reading the essence of your voice, then hearing your devotion
The canyoned crevice of our minds, grow deep with indecision
Bridging gaps most far and wide, channeling our vision
This TV case, a shell that traps and shields me from so much
And dampened soul when monitors fog up each time I touch
Stillness seeds this cell
of death-borne illness,
underscores the needs of one
who cannot function by himself.
Bed sheets icy white, fading flowers
once bright, now lifeless,
litter uselessly.
A steady stream of visitors
will offer their support,
feeling helpless, hopeless,
as they fumble for the words
stuck in their throats.
Monitors wink,
blink their indifference;
scant recognition,
little consolation for a father
and his sorrow-stricken son.
Stillness seeds this cell
of death-borne illness,
underscores the needs of one
who cannot function by himself.
Bed sheets icy white, fading flowers
once bright, now lifeless,
litter uselessly.
A steady stream of visitors
will offer their support,
feeling helpless, hopeless,
as they fumble for the words
stuck in their throats.
Monitors wink,
blink their indifference;
scant recognition,
little consolation for a father
and his sorrow-stricken son.
Don't ignore the stop sign
on the yellow school bus.
You may be in a hurry
but safety should come first.
The bus is full of children
slow down just take your time
Something unexpected might happen
so please bear that in mind.
A little consideration
goes a long long way.
So keep your eyes wide open
and give the bus the right of way.
Then those school bus monitors
who always do their best.
Will feel much more content
having put their minds at rest.
"Crisis!"
"Shelter in place!"
Sirens scream from tv monitors
Teleprompters indicate emphasis points
Stringing our fear
Along enough
'Till commercial
Breaks
When products offered by advertisers
Promise relief
From
Worry...
Drink this
Eat that
Drive this
Erect that
Smell this
Swallow that
Drink flouride
Eat gmo's
Drive carbon emissions
Erect a better you
Inhale cadmium-coated chemicals
Swallow cortex syngeing sleep aids
And
You'll
Be
Fine
10/27/13
His soft tissue, it ripped
All his discs, they had slipped
To the ER, the ambulance zipped
To right this poor fellow's ship
His wife's hand he gripped
On the worrisome trip
His whole world had flipped
His wings had been clipped...
The monitors blipped
His confidence dipped
Liquid steroids he sipped
Drip-drip, drip-drip
Here the doc snipped
Over there did he clip
Then he grinned, and he quipped
'You've no more spine
~ Just a postscript.'