Short Moth Eaten Poems
Short Moth Eaten Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Moth Eaten by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Moth Eaten by length and keyword.
CINDERELLA’S CLOSET
spawned-jeans ripped to shreds
moth-eaten-sweater distressed ~
fit teen in fashion
1/5/2022
Categories:
moth eaten, fashion, teen,
Form:
Senryu
Now stolen by the seconds
before blurred and moth eaten
Tomorrow still yet formed
Destiny take its chance
laughter strangles silence
and noise creates the home
Categories:
moth eaten, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
In this late hour, the moon withdraws behind a cloud
Hiding her face and her light so dearly loved
And wraps herself in her old, moth-eaten shroud
As the last jack-o’-lantern’s flame is finally snuffed.
Categories:
moth eaten, halloween,
Form:
Rhyme
Night cloth
Old house
Celestial fires
In the sky
Whole cloth
Moth eaten
Lost to time
Lost to night
Words spoken
Walls broken
Night cloth
Old house
Firey sky
Deep dreams
Blinking out
Casting shadows
On the walls
Old house
Shadow dreams
Words spoken
Walls broken
Categories:
moth eaten, night,
Form:
Free verse
The color of lemonade washing the sky—
Popsicle memories revive
Of baseball connecting with ash wood, hit high
In an arcing, outfield drive.
Are summers forever? Or only a day?
Moth-eaten , major-league hat…
December’s the umpire, miscalling the play,
And there’s ice on my Louisville bat.
Categories:
moth eaten, childhood
Form:
Verse
Moth-eaten hag was a big battle-ax biddy
A hackneyed hag who wandered New York City
Grandam of the alley, a smelly aged fish wife
Aren’t you glad you did not have her kind of life?
Don’t be so hasty to judge, said my friend.
She had cats and companions to the very end.
The homeless took care of her, they loved her too.
Who is going to do the boo-hooing for you?
Categories:
moth eaten, life,
Form:
Rhyme
The woman smiles vacantly
waiting for the bus,
but not climbing on;
eyes lined, hair matted,
hands in moth-eaten gloves.
She talks to a photo
she grasps in her hands
of sorrows and pain of the past,
oblivious to those who stare or ignore her.
Her old knit cap covers reflections
she refuses to share as a
refugee from a life of comfort
now at the mercy of the elements
and the law.
Categories:
moth eaten, confusion, life, sad, social,
Form:
Free verse
Embellished wreaths and lace hang low, all chipped
As a shadow drifts like moth-eaten thread--
I wail! And in one rush, my life outstripped
On joyous Yuletide an ordeal instead:
While bells peal of lament I can't contain--
How our union sweet, the nights desecrate
A goodbye that is riddled with much pain,
When new stars entomb him---my song, my fate.
~
'JAN 2019 WK2 Contest
Categories:
moth eaten, angst, christmas,
Form:
Quatrain
NOR COULD I FORETELL YOU
Before I leave I could see
Bated hoods ofTrials
Of love and life .
Protruding stuffed pocktes
Of havesack
Moth eaten trails and judgements
Of our love and life .
Heaving I left the terrain
Seeing not wayside brooks and inns
Exiles glaring and grunting
Nor could I foretell you for good.
Cab moved disinterestedly
Before I could hear
A deep moan fading out
That rose from our soul
Inside the embalmed body
Of our life.
Categories:
moth eaten, lost love, life, love,
Form:
Blank verse
NOR I FORETELL YOU
Before I leave I could'nt see you
Bated hoods of trials
Of life and love .
Protruding stuffed pockets
Of havesack,
Moth eaten trails and judgments
Of our love and life.
Heaving I left the terrain
Seeing not wayside brooks and inns
Exiles glaring and grunting
Nor could I faretell your for good.
Cab moved disinterestedly
Before I could hear
A deep moan fading out
That rose from our soul
Inside the embalmed body
Of our life.
Categories:
moth eaten, lost love, love,
Form:
Blank verse
poetry is ;
pulling a velveteen rabbit
out of a moth-eaten top hat
to the oohs and awws
of a wide-eyed children’s crowd
words flowing faster
than tongues wagging
from pursed dry lips
begging for a bit of water
poetry is;
flowering in the middle
of some nameless desert’s
shimmering heat precisely
at high noon
the sparkle of moisture
an illusion pure
without any slight
of human hand
poetry is pure magic
word imagery
without compare
Categories:
moth eaten, imagery, magic,
Form:
Free verse