Short Newspapers Poems
Short Newspapers Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Newspapers by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Newspapers by length and keyword.
World News
Obama won the election
With great elation
Yet the headlines in
Norwegian newspapers were
About cheese importation
I miss the local deli
Where they sold ice cream and jelly
They sold everything
From newspapers to string
All served with a smile by our Nellie
come now little dog
stop shaking
it's only thunder
MagiCicada 13
when newspapers said
we would have a big earthquake
in twenty-five years -
the year was 1980!
still sitting on the fault line
I know you like that
Those faded smiles
And soaked cheeks
Fiery feelings felt
For a time
Now buried
Under old newspapers
Concealing the past
With black and white ink
Form:
Newspapers can be logs for the fire
or non-functional rolling pins
Obsolete as white-stockinged town criers
along with typewriters ~ has-beens
The winter evening decends calm
with a few gentle snowflakes drifting
four o'clock
the cloudy sky of day is now deep purple
a gusty wind and old withered leaves dance
with newspapers
In the past, people trusted the press.
For the press had a certain noblesse.
But today, I would say,
trust has withered away —
we are now very hard to imPRESS.
To solve the evil of pollution
just eating less is a solution
stone poop of indian
is real serious question
not doing every day is action
Read in daily newspapers
A
historic flood
forgotten except in
tucked away
newspapers
which a reader
runs across and
due to an assumed
overlay of time
apparently
avoids the freedom
arising as what
is happening~~
Everywhere I look I see words.
In Magazines
In newspapers
On Billboards
Words are in books
Words are in grocery stores
Words are in malls and even parks
Words surround me
Day in and day out
Valentine Vapors
In the midst of her valentine capers
she succumbed to a case of the vapors
with a grunt and a groan
she wound up alone
so the sweet lass just spread out newspapers.
John G. Lawless
©2/14/2018
For the last couple of days
Pope John Paul the Second
Has laid down
Across the covers of the newspapers
And his body comes away on the hands of public opinion
Death wonders
About Arafat’s passing away
And Sharon
At history
Throws stones
Form:
Let me ask you, how does the poem change
when "dog" is addressed in the female gender?
come now little "....."
stop shaking
it's only thunder
More specifically,
do you still see a dog?
LOW COUNTRY BOIL SOUTH CAROLINA STYLE
Potatoes, corn, onions, sausage, shrimp, and crabs
Boiled together to perfection
Old newspapers laid on the table
All ingredients dumped together
Careful, it's hot
YUM!!
Contest – Low Country Boil
By: Sara Kendrick
Rolling my eyes
Everywhere I go
Searching for my luck
Hope that there’s a place
For someone like me.
Those newspapers
Scattered on floor
Makes me crazy
Desperate one...
I won’t stop
Won’t give up
I’ll try hard...
I know
I’ll find...
JOB.
anywhere without you
aint that pretty
but i keep my peel on you
cold and wet in new york
the wind like a proverbial knife
crowded train
queues at the bus stop
pulling down the ball and chain
Unreal faces behind newspapers
commute at your peril
Smoke from newspapers, streets,
schools, politicians......is making
my mind blurry. Screenshots
of my mind look like a battle-field;
a fight between my thoughts
and others' thoughts. I am under
pressure from inside, like a cigar clinging
onto its stuffed smoke......
Where's my Umbrella
Poor Raincoat is torn and old
It's Pouring cats and dogs out there
Will get Soaked down to the bone
Skipping and splashing in puddles
Holding Newspapers over my head
If I don't get my Umbrella
It'll be Sneezing and Coughing in bed
Your face is splayed across newspapers all over our state
I dream of finding you and returning you to your mother.
This is 1977, and you came up missing five blocks from my house.
That was forty-five years ago, and I still think of you.
Wishing I could be the one to save you.
Toiling through the dark – loneliness colors me stark
Much of my life I’ve delivered newspapers at night. Therefore, this relates to working in the dark.
WORK PERSPECTIVE MONOKU Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Beata Agustin
May 3, 2022
The antique barn has treasure, junk,
Stacked together in the dust,
Some worn-out tools, and one old trunk,
Massive padlock sealing it with rust.
What hides inside? Some rare old book?
Heirloom brooches of old gold?
We pay five dollars, and we look—
Rotting newspapers, must and mold!
over the table
I sat waiting to die.
all I can do is look
at a table covered in
newspapers and
collection notices.
I looked deep into the
shine of my nickle plated
gun,took a deep breath.
as life slipped away,
I realized that the clock
struck midnight.
and
I
starved
for death.
THOSE WERE THE DAYS
In days Paleolithic
The news was often horrific
People eaten by monsters terrific
Or trampled in mammoth jams of traffic
Newspapers were chiseled in stone
Picture it: hot news petrified even when it sizzles
Editors called in news headlines by bone
Saying, “ Hold it. . .stop the chisels!! “
Old Politics
thrown out
like
old clothes
and old newspapers
the sun
rises again in the
morning
don't let
the land
turn blood red
this is the
time of change
later on - let us breathe in the
night air