Short Mulling Poems
Short Mulling Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Mulling by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Mulling by length and keyword.
Some days you struggle
Deciding what’s right or wrong
Mulling it over
Listen to your inner voice
It’s usually right on track
1/20/16
Mull over idea,
its all I have,
and all you got,
toss it,
toast it,
mince it,
grate it,
till it is good,
or proven bad,
then,
smash it,
burn it,
bury it ,
like you never had.
Cerise clouds
picot
the mallows
edging
a wafer
of earth.
Distant mallards
volute the evening,
wainscot
the vault
of season--
a lattice
of lavalieres
mulling a sky
blanched as gin.
kneeling in a field
obscured behind grassy weeds
soft munching concealed
ruminating his days deeds
chewing the cud could reveal
by
David Kavanagh
Furnances, cast-iron, will wrought a deadly terrain;
The mulling of our spirit has
Juggled words of gods out of our mouths
While we hide like moths,
Thus life begins an affair with a new universe
Where furnances are allowed
To crawl the garden grounds
as our hearts watch
Aflame with plummage.
Dreaming of the days
of the lost tomorrow,
of what went wrong.
What should have been said.
Mulling over a broken heart,
Long since been overfed,
with happy memories
of a better yesterday,
long since past.
Filling both mind and heart
with sickening dread.
Always dreaming,
always wishing
for the lost tomorrow.
What if. . .
after all the time
that seemed to have passed
you awoke
to find yourself
prone
in a crib
staring blearily
through bars at sun-dappled wallpaper
mulling over all of the images
that before you had played
and seemed so very real
even if you could speak
how would you begin
to describe the dream
THERE THE THOUSAND REASON LIE,
WHEN I SAY, I WISH I COULD BE YOU,
SO DISPASSIONATE AND FREE,
FROM THE NORMS, I M FORCED TO OBEY.
WHEN THEY SUPPRESS, I WISH HARD.
ONLY IF THE CREATOR HADN'T HAD BLESSED HER,
WITH THE BEAUTY OF GIVING LIFE, I FEAR,
MUST ‘D BEEN RUNNING FOR WINNING POST,
OR MULLING IN YOUR FIELDS,
OR BE FED WITH THE LEFT OVER.
No name
Simply same
Buoyant blame
Sweet say
Dreamy day
Puzzling play
Sweet still
Wonder wills
Pleasure pill
Watch wake
Steady sake
Mindful make
Love lines
Vibrant vines
Mulling mines
Sense speaks
Primal peak
Laughter leaks
Last light
Succinct sight
Funny flight
Leon Enriquez
22 November 2018
Singapore
black petal lips
and budding hips
with soft sighs she sips
a pitcher of wine rose
moon kissed locks
and dainty socks
cups that overflows
apple cider eyes
and vanilla bean skies
a dull ache mulling
his deep voice lulling
french tipped nails
abed rigid sails
air brushed smiles
and earthly wiles
a blackberry haze
her integument maze
he does explore
she does adore
I don't suppose
the white hums of summer
will ever out strum the blues;
but here before me,
two colors mingle
in polite harmony-
spouting about
like versed chums
over black coffee
so why do I stand here,
all cockeyed
and bashful
in these careful shades of yellow,
mulling over red
and its poignant way
of bruising my heart
a callous hue of indigo
Meandering through the mind I uncover
The imponderables of life quietly holding
A plethora of life truths I long to discover
Meandering through the mind I uncover
Those splendid gems needing mulling over
Patiently awaiting my attention, unfolding,
Meandering through the mind I discover
The imponderables of life quietly holding.
written November 8, 2021
My dear Donald Trump
At your tender age
you shouldn't be bumped
into early retirement, and so
I want you in my new Cabinet, although
to your unique talents the position must fit...
Therefore, after mulling things over a bit
There's an idea that makes perfect sense
A new, complementary position to old 'Defense'
~I hereby appoint you my 'Secretary of Offense'
Lights off
Eyes shut
Mind drowsing
Its door ajar
Unseen the muse out sneaking
Silently the rooms soaring
Against walls blindly knocking
Preys restlessly around chasing
Over catchy images mulling
Poetic words in far corners hunting
Beautiful rhymes at last catching
Back through the door all of them haling
The master mind his sentence giving
Into verse the prisoners eternally latching
Form:
Do I enter this contest?
Or do I defer?
The pros and cons battle
And will not concur.
On the one hand, you'll judge me -
I hate to be judged.
Is that reason enough
That my "No" won't be budged?
On the other hand, well,
I love challenge and dare;
And not winning is something
I think I can bear.
So I sit here just mulling,
My nerves getting frayed;
'Til I realize that somehow,
My choice has been made!
Curious craze
Murky maze
Sanguine strange
Crafty change
Misty moods
Fetching food
Dreamy dance
Cheeky chance
Wonder writes
Bubbly bites
Yonder yokes
Pressing pokes
Wordy will
Fashions feel
Charming choice
Pretty poise
Touching tell
Delight dwells
Story sad
Mulling mad
Grapple gist
Moving mist
Leon Enriquez
08 November 2018
Singapore
Scents mingle; phlox, lilac, jasmine etching June,
evening tingles neath shimmer of shooting star.
Aromas' rhythmic breathing below blond moon
held on breeze's ripple - please don’t go afar…
Dream's moonstone is reasoned in cream afternoon,
adularescent blue tones season memoir.
Days lazy, lost lulling red raspberry rhyme,
gaze hazy, mulling sangria summertime.
Susan Ashley
August 12, 2017
dead of night draws near
and he suffers
inside the silence
the stillness
of the land
loam looming
encrypting upon his hand
bare
as his glance
a mirror mulling of a past
eyed
foreseeing a fertile future
as she comes
he pauses
in the mist of maturation
of the trees
his forest blend
bent to the cue of man
braved
he braves the hidden blue
and breathes
her scent
Back on Baker Street -
pulling on a calabash pipe.
Paganini and Bach stream through
a cracked third-story window.
The Merseybeat’s…
the disaffected Pink Floyd years,
Mary Jane brain, mulling over
puffing magic dragons;
reading Sherlock Holmes
secretly.
Today, downloading
a picture of myself back then,
no pipe just a youthful smirk
as I strut down that busy road.
Sometimes I wish I still smoked.
First
meetings
are startling,
to say the least
the expectancy,
has a propensity
to take away the magic…
Feeling on the edge, not knowing
whether to hug, kiss or just shake hands
because nothing on earth can prepare you
for the initial awkwardness ahead.
The person no longer a stranger,
mulling thoughts occupy your mind
speculating on his thoughts
does he like me or not?
Could this be the start
of something
amazing
or the
end…
Not Me, But He
Miracle Man
2/9/2018
In mulling over the testimony of my existence,
My remaining time is anchored to His assistance.
Since the time of rebirth when I made my debut,
Each challenge I’ve faced God carried me through.
The speed bumps I’ve encountered along the way,
Have ushered me to the spot where I stand today;
Look past the window dressing you assume I’ve done,
And fix your eyes upon Jesus, the empowering one.
I would risk it
All just to get away...
The highest mountain
Would be child's play...
The ocean and its depth
Would be no match...
I need to get away...
These mulling thoughts
I need to curb...
Uncertainty negate the truth,
Does this mean, I'm stuck in this rut?
I need to get away...
If only one could escape ones mind
If only I knew where to go...
A place that offers serenity
I'm tired of fighting this battle,
A battle I’m unable to win...
Form:
Why then these sighs?
What takes you high?
We leave too soon
Before high noon
Yet why do we
Return to be?
A spark brings light
To deep dark night
We come around
To thrill these grounds
Is there some show
That funds field flow?
Round and round feel
A missing thrill
Dying each dies
Brief as a sigh
Come round again
Raw touch greets plain
Why mulling how?
Screams here and now
Leon Enriquez
26 September 2018
Singapore
The dog barked ,
and its puppies yelped,
I was raised,
mulling my eyes,
I got out,
something was definitely wrong,
the winter bit in my bed clothes,
and crapped through legs deep in,
shaking my head,
to drop the drowse,
I began to look for my glasses,
and frantically browsed,
getting them on table,
I put them on,
and went to the door,
cranking it ajar,
I stepped to the kennel,
only to find,
that nothing was wrong,
the canine family,
simply needed more of flannel.
Listen to poem:
It’s buried in your head
it’s buried in your mind
Someplace you can’t get to
someplace you can’t find
It’s buried in your words
you don’t show how much it hurts
Because it’s better to be silent
than not be accepted
Better to be brave
even if the mask is fake
Better to sit in the dark
with your eyes shut
Sit in the silence
with your ears plugged
slowing suffocating on nothing
while screaming IT’S ALL TOO MUCH.
Slowing mulling over everything
because nothing is never enough