Short Narrating Poems
Short Narrating Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Narrating by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Narrating by length and keyword.
Lines of wisdom
Lines of grace
Lines of laughter
Across her face
Mesmerising poetic lines
In a cherished memoir
Narrating the beauty
Of a life lived repertoire
Putrefying proteins,
emanated rancid airs,
he had this excretion,
and other unwanted,
wares,
quite spread out on table,
as if he was narrating,
a known tale,
of his dirty inside,
as a fable.
just narrating as one ember burns
heart content on silent beating
from the chest they yearn
steady pace to scatter all these thoughts
breathe to know you feel
just narrating as a strangers glance you steal
REMINISCENCES
Reminiscences:
Faithful friends of the
Past
Revisiting the loneliness of
Present
Trying to fill the emptiness of
Endless hours
BY
Narrating stories told a
Thousand times!
©Demetrios Trifiatis
12 APRIL 2013
Apparently
I am jailed in the room
reading the books of haters
where I can see caterpillars
spreading on the grave
rotting.
I even heard voices
shouting from the pages
the bourgeoisie are squeezed
cuddled by greedy mice
narrating rotten lies.
21 September 2018
Kota Kinabalu
Slashing and striking,
Brushes lay marks on
Lifeless canvases.
Filling them with breath
The incandescent lamp to
The buried images of soul's gallery,
Guiding out images lost
From the depth of man's heart
Narrating stories told and untold
To onlookers of every variety
All these; the magnificence of
Painters painting paintings
Some day, maybe tomorrow
get ready to travel.
The flute is narrating streams.
The leaves are drawing rainbows lightly,
they are soaring in the rain,
nearly not leaving circles.
Travel, travel …
With your soul only
(it is a mute shadow).
With your love
(it has no shadow).
Keep the life,
like music, like rain,
like the blind one who stopped
The Sun.
Travel …
Narrating, appealing, begging
Murmuring, whispering, gossiping
Yelling, crying, shouting
The singer
Interpretes a cluster of words
In a twisted voice
In a style of animation
In an outlet for emotion
In a mission of love and peace
In a demand for immediate action
And so listening to a song
Is more than listening to a melody
But it's like listening to a heart speaking
Narrating breaths,
Tell the story of love.
Deep...inhales of desire,
Caress the long exhales of passion.
Warm flesh tales read,
Verbalized by each soft breath.
Paragraphs of Goosebumps,
Traced and translated by the tongue.
The taste of smooth ivory skin,
Satisfies...midnight cravings.
As her ardent veins,
Throb with excitement...beckoning,
The initiation of our nightly chapters.
“Peace on Earth”, the angels sing
Ringing out o’er all the Earth
In the light of wondrous star
Narrating the Savior’s birth.
Caroling the story,
Extraordinary!!
Of the glory of the King
Faithful Christians message bring.
“Prince of Peace” is God’s own Son.
Every year we celebrate
As the year is almost done,
Christ Child’s birthday on this date.
Expectantly for peace we wait.
"ode to Odorono"
have you ever thought
you were stuck in
a half ass
movie with
Morgan Freeman
narrating your every god
given
move
but then you
quietly try
going
going to
the bath
yes the
bath
room
totally in
every way
everything
has
changed
and will remain so
just
don't
forget to
remember to
wipe your **** with
PoetrySoup
Approved
organic
tiss
ues
Lying on the Moon
with the stars as my cover,
I dream of the land
with, doves narrating my heart.
I'm soaked, along with you,
In this ocean, sweet like wine.
Walking on the wet grass,
as you hold my hand,
I can feel the sun n'
it's pure warmth.
When I open my lids
you are still here,
above and around.
Lying on the Moon
with the stars as my cover,
I can feel your breathe and,
touch your heart.
Form:
there they sit
with their dreams
and fantasies
mouthing great
philosophies
narrating great tales
of imagined achievements,
revealing little nuggets
of despair couched
in a fatalism
of their own making.
Should I reveal myself
jolt them to the reality
of death
put an end to their charade
Or slither away
in the susurration
of wind and grass
leaving them
to their random ramblings
in their dotage?
A dance
Needs something more than music
Let dance with fashions
With language of the bodies
Let dance with directions
Even backwards with retroversion
Let dance with some thoughts
Even narrating a story
Let dance with a dream
A stage is everything
Let dance with love or charity
That embrace your life
Always taking other people
Into concern
Meeting eyes, joining hands
Healing hearts
And your are always not alone
Deada in ashes fallin to lamar cold
Unsing it vanity in time concealed
Like leaveslight winglesssta
Listlessly lain where unburried we wither away
Lull inkfro fettered eternity
I call dull life what it is
Greycoated only dream
Hanging athwart the ending stream until sunset
Totell moreonce the story old
End under streetlamps invisible names in shame
Narrating oursins
Diligently like blackbirds cawing
Sweet nothingican understandin grant.
I read a book with sharp words
Piercing deep into the muscles of the heart
Unraveling life's secrets
Detailing beyond this realm
Narrating the past with caution
Illuminating what's within the breast
Putting doubt to rest
Separating truth from the grasp of falsehood
Then I recited the book
The eyes turned watery
The reasoning humbled
From the harmony that comes from within
A true source of solace
Balancing the call to fear and hope
Watching from pin hole
lamps of baked clay.
Every thorn was in my flesh.
I was losing my voice
in crowd of maniacs.
Dragonflies climbing on worn leather.
Through cracked sunroof –
skull splinters into million heirlooms.
Fever climbs the feudals.
Why were you impatient with me?
I was narrating a shocking tale.
Frogs had acquired the land.
Plot was thickening every day.
Take me if you can, in the heavy shower
of meteorites in dark moonlight.
SATISH VERMA