Short Muting Poems
Short Muting Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Muting by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Muting by length and keyword.
Released from
the inferno
Tongue of Satan
to betray
Saving words
from his fury
Muting the serpent
—today
(Dreamsleep: June, 2022)
Where one could see
In articulate
His love
In mystery of smile
In infant eyes
As in muting speak
In glance
of stars
In a pair of tweet
In branch of trees
In the passion stem
As a murmur of wakeup
To in buds- alive
Form:
Der Nebel haengt in der Luft
It hangs in the air
like a wet blanket
muting the mystery
as if you could
clouding the reality
with vague images
your eyes strain to
make sense of the terrain
as you navigate your way
to fetch this mornings
mail.
Haunted by whispering calls ~ a torn leaf lifts its soul to the sad sky
snowflakes streak gazes…
infant endeavours are made~
muting icy words
slipping in the honest frost…
sorrow seeps upon spirits
grieving
ebony eyes~
wrath simmers a cold soul,
mind stranded in a cyclone haze…
anguish
Forms of poetry; 1 - Monoku
2-Tanka 3-Cinquain
Mysterious fog, rolling over
the hills and valleys. hiding
secrets and muting sound.
Out of the white mantle
comes the song of a bird,
seeming to enjoy his cool
morning hideaway..
Go into this magic..hold
out your hand , feel the wet
and wander like a blind man.
It won't last, but while it does,
play with the witchcraft
that is fog.......
For the Mysterious contest.
Deep down this tricky thick forest,
Every tree with fearful leaves,
Teaching fruits how to taste bitter,
Eager I am to quench all.
Roaming bees in search of skins,
Muting Joy, playing pains,
In it will I sleep and snore,
Not now will I give up.
Am determined to bind my mind
Tossed to and fro by life's swing,
Intoxicating fear,
Overcoming all.
Never! Never will I give up.
Sometimes, the pernicious
is just desserts like alveoli
losing pink to a ciggy devil
Love - an enterprise astral
yields to blemish: mockery
Garish sentry sneers, reflecting
on a visage muting its boo-hoo
on a traverse still willed in woo
Silly teeter-totters with serious
editing tears that dampen a life…
(10/31/2020: Gibson HB, DMS)
acorns fall, unfold
on tall pines
everything feels bare
(Autumn has a way of muting colors of summer then coating them with
mulched earthly tones. It all happens overnight, or so it seems.)
strokes of paint
on canvass of old
Autumn shades
(When Autumn arrives I ready for art by muting the colors with a
dip of my brush. Imagination never lacks when Autumn is around)
Oct 28, 2021
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
Mysterious fog, rolling over
the hills and valleys, hiding
secrets and muting sound.
Out of the white mantle
comes the song of a bird,
seeming to enjoy his cool
morning hideaway..
Go into this magic..hold
out your hand , feel the wet
and wander like a blind man.
It won't last, but while it does,
play with the witchcraft
that is fog.......
written 7/19/13
for Broken Wings' Honorable Mention contest
Barbara Gorelick
A red-streaked panorama graced Washington's dawn
Clear lake-blue skies there all day long
Portland smoke-gray, from tear gas and pepper spray
Antifa showed its true colors on Inauguration Day
Not a hint of outrage from the government or the press
It's alright if the fascists are left-wing, I guess
At the Inaugural Ball, attendees donned their prettiest dress
Masks muting their 'concern' over the Oregonian mess
I see, I know truths vary
I feel, it all is complex
to love, to be loved
trust, to be trusted
to know attachments
knowing to detach
know sorrows of death
to know life's pleasures
I see, I know truths vary
I feel, it all is complex
soul, a tethered calf
bleating tested truth
unfeasible. Oh!
most times muting gut
I walk through mirage-
in false courage, pride
I let myself through, dearly
The Door of Uncertainty
Behind the strong trunks of evening gloom
endless leaves sifting at toes
away and beyond in the low light fog
universal laws lead us home
trios of students examine life
inversely inspecting ideas and worms
fall lives adrift in the warmth
unkindled by muting life to death
leaven for life bread.
Fluttering winds, hair, friends
all swirled like a muffler taken to air
let us climb high toward heaven
let us swan dive into mulch with flair.
Mama philo
It was a sole group
Devoid of the arts and signs
Of communal frenzy
A blazing flame
Without a raging crowd
A lone pail
clanging a soulless beat
Amidst the sorrowful fest
Clinging and hugging
With boneless shoulders
Blinking tearfully
Wiping rubbing hopelessly
Muting her wish/
To calm this impasse
As she drift into bliss
Waking up with a shudder
As she makes a recollect
Why she now lay
face to face with mama philo.
That stunningly beautiful day
(though through smog, the light really was grey)
In the mythic town
Where you live like a clown
In my hand the page finally lay
It was my dream for more than eight years
And down my face streamed muting tears
Vindication at last
But the outside seems vast
Paper's too thin to quash all my fears
Yet on this bright day in may
I ignore the words no one will say
My work's finally done
It is time to have fun
And for my home I will always pray
Wanting Love Is Certain Madness,
Seductive, Selfish, Ensnaring Ones Heart.
Always Needs You, But Makes You Less,
Hungry, Wanting, Unwilling To Not Part.
One's Obsessive Love Makes You Crazy,
Enticing Mutiny of The Heart From The Mind.
Imagination Knows No Lazy,
Craving Gluttony For the Desires of Your Kind.
Wanting Love Is Certain Madness,
Now Crippling, Muting the Seductive Dreams.
Desires Hungry For Forwardness,
Never Realizing What the Heart So Deems.
Form:
A
dying
scarlet sun,
bleeds upon pink
cotton candy clouds
clustering at Earth's edge,
as though tethered to the night.
Twilight starts unveiling the stars
now twinkling-like faceted diamonds
and moonbeams gild indigo waters gold.
Muting all but one lonely cricket's chirp,
silence imbues each shifting shadow
with a growing feeling of dread.
And a dark curtain descends
until silhouettes merge
and ebony starts
slowly filling
in every
single
gap.
Muting of mums, yet rainbow’s nigh.
Memory clouds don’t often lie.
Darkened skies of treetops. One drop.
Subdued arcs in photo workshop.
Release of the silver lining.
The truth of matters reclining.
Facts are not new violets in rain.
Kissing splotched photo, without brain.
Virga won’t release history.
Weather remains a mystery.
Slight chance of weeping; willows fade.
Jellyfish don’t reach hunter’s blade.