Short Ninety Five Poems
Short Ninety Five Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Ninety Five by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Ninety Five by length and keyword.
OK, you got me, I admit,
ninety-five percent of life is sh**;
but, still, I am glad I'm alive
to experience the other five.
There once was a cat named Mr. Morgan
Who sipped his share of Kentucky bourbon
Sired ninety-five kittens
Said he's not forbidden
From abusing his sexual organ
Time could be afforded,
There was no guilt,
Opportunities other than
Thirty dollars-worth of stamps –
For two, ninety-five
Could be found on the inside cover
Of match books…
And fun meant more than mutual drunkenness.
“This anguish in my brain
Caused me much pain
My extreme thoughts
Marked me as insane”
“With weepy eyes
I soar up high
Over the Santee Bridge
Off ninety-five”
“Into the comely waters
A final dip
My head lie on a stone
Asleep on the other side”
When the Beach Boys come on I press the metal to the floor
Tina Turner has me shaking my car, all over the freeway.
Cher and Bette can get me to dancing, so I forget I am driving.
Johnny Cash, Willie and Elvis? I am singing at the top of my lungs.
Driving down the freeway at ninety-five; a cop car on my tail.
Not in nursery; in standard class one I got admission there
With elder brother I went to school till standard class three
For loquacious mockery I was beaten punitively by a teacher
After a week in fever when went there I felt fear of study
And in nineteen ninety five I changed to Islamic academy
© Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
14/11/2022
Palm trees are being blown out to sea today
In the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and far away
Hurricane Idalia is making sure she is having her way
When we think of Florida we all must pray
Alligators are in hiding, the manatees too
Housewives have stopped cooking their beef stew
People are all running toward Interstate ninety-five.
Trying to escape so they can stay alive.
Inhaling and exhaling life
one Marlboro red at a time
those devil sticks
sucking the liquid from her face
wrinkles that could put a
Shar pei to shame
despite battalions of carcinogens
she lived till ninety five
a life garnished with laughter- love- respect
family gatherings
abuse-neglect
the book ends of
sickness and loneliness
night capped with
a pale blue regret.
True Story
My hubby's aunt was ninety three
Spry and full of energy
Lost her man of sixty years
Remembered all the joy and tears
Retirement living she could thank
For meeting up with new beau Frank
Her new mate was ninety five
"Hey, she said I'm still alive!'
Lil and Frank have set the stage
Love can flourish at any age
Hand in hand they share their love
Until the call from up above..
"The smug and silver Trent" - Shakespeare's Henry IV, Part I
************************************************
"The smug and silver Trent"
flooded badly in seventeen ninety-five,
when every bridge was damaged/washed away.
It's a risk today, but less so, so they say.
"The smug and silver Trent",
Will Shakespeare's quill recorded,
though at "smug" he took free license,
I would say.
10/27/2015
The United Shades of America
One hundred ninety five countries of colors
Blending into a thousand shades of US
This united shades of America
This rainbow of shades is US
Its the way the world is supposed to be
I appreciate the shade of you
Please appreciate the shade of me
Together we color the world
Life is the rainbow of US
Together we better the world
In the united shades of US
PALLANES
Form:
I wouldn’t do that if I were you! She says.
Why not?
It’s a sin.
I have to keep my mouth straight.
She has been immersed in sin soup.
She sputters it when she speaks.
Everything is a sin.
Walking on a sidewalk crack is a sin.
Loving a man without being married to it is a sin.
I have to keep my face straight
Remembering that she does not know any better at ninety-five.
Frankly, I think her upbringing is a sin.
One could see from his mood
That he had long been denied food;
A new way of walking pointblank crude,
Ninety-Five percent of his speeches rude!
Eyes that now like the mind brood,
Easily the same stripping nude
And a neck that had to slant
Like a non-watered dying plant.
Then, the man could by bread live alone
If God would a loaf throw down from His Throne...
Right now, still hungry and quite angry
For its not stretching to all and sundry.
She sat by the window with her silver crown
And gazed outside at what was around
A bird at the feeder, a squirrel in a tree
A car driving by, another, now three
She sat and gazed as the hours passed by
For this queen didn't worry about time
In life's simple pleasures, she now partakes
From watching the birds, to eating some cake
The minutes pass by, she cherishes each
As ninety-five years is no simple feat
Her days are now filled enjoying the sun
Broken only by the nurses med runs
Ninety five degrees
standing poolside
on the wooden patio
in the backyard
orange Androsia print apron
hugging my torso
propane grill
propelling fumes
hot as a steamroom
at a suana
Tendered rib eyed
and porterhouse steaks
seasoned in high salt
like abstract paintings
brushed in A1 sauce
and finally
a side of
friench fried potatoes
spruced in liquid tomatoes
from the essence of my garden
served to my darling party guests
with a golden heart of culinary perfection
(Dedicated to Ida Greene who died July 5, 2008.)
Ida was her name and she was my mom's former stepmother.
For eighteen months she helped take care of Mom, her sister and her brothers.
She taught my mom how to milk a cow.
I hate to say that she is dead now.
She's being buried today and her family is feeling remorse.
She kept my Granddad's last name after they got a divorce.
She passed away yesterday at the age of ninety-five.
She was a kind and good person while she was alive.
Here lie the Purvis babies.
Seven of them, now no more.
Short lived, one only two days old.
One lived to the age of four.
Four baby girls and three boys
Graced their Mother’s home for a time.
But their untimely deaths filled the family plot.
Here they lie, seven short graves in a line.
It’s been ninety-five years ago today,
Since the last baby breathed its last.
Did the Mother and Father move far away?
There is no grave with their names,
And no other trace of their past.