Short Notebook Poems
Short Notebook Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Notebook by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Notebook by length and keyword.
Last year
I wrote about you in every
Sweet way I could
In every notebook I had
This year
You're only mentioned
In my
Suicide letter.
Just a Phrase
I can’t help it,
It’s in my notebook,
Under useful phrases,
To use when drunk.
(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Some dull professor droned
And from my heart
Right to my pen
In cursive sprang
This lovely name,
Notebook margins filled:
Kelly
Kelly
Kelly
Take a notebook and a pen
Write the things that annoy you
When you finished with the list
Change will be ahead
Nayda Ivette
12-26-2015
I did not mean to chain myself to a desk
It’s gorgeous outside; I realize I am missing it
I take my notebook and dogs, and we sit in the sun
I am poetry’s puppet.
A Poet sits on the edge of tomorrow,
waiting for today
Notebook in hand, new words to command
—what time has yet to say
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2019)
Orbiting earth at a ludicrous pace
No gravity: stuff flys all over the place
A notebook floats by, would it not be great
If we could have brought even one paperweight
fly lands on my notebook
is this a hello?
does he want his own missive?
I can see his tiny wings
and his twitching face
I continue to write
he flies off, satisfied
Give me a notebook, a pen and some time.
My muse fills a page faster than I spend a dime.
I do not recognize stuff the very next day.
Sometimes I don’t remember my poems an hour away.
Leaving the house to go to work,
making sure I have,
my car keys,
my house keys,
extra money,
my cup of coffee,
a notebook,
a picture book,
a juice box,
my cell phone
and I am ready to go.
Steady breeze of today
Flips up the edge of my notebook
Maple leaves are sparking with movement
I watch their merry dance
Marveling at their reds, browns and yellows
November is gorgeous
Copper-like
Blood stains stain my small notebook
Flippin’ sick!
Blood stains
Drain on my piece of paper
Disturbing…
Dried-up blood
Spew out from my open wounds
Bloody mess!
This is where
I will work out
my poetry.
It is only for
my poetry.
It is not for
grocery lists.
It is not for
phone numbers
although
in a pinch
it could be.
a kernel of an idea showed up and gave me a wink
was it my muse? I did not know what to think
a bit confused, but of course, I always have ink.
I began to write, and my notebook gave me a whistle and a blink.
the dish moved over there and that's alright with me
my notebook flipped pages on its own and that's alright with me
I don't consult them lesson learned so I don't bother them
I guess they just do there thing
found this notebook today
It had six poems
unrecognizable
but written by my hand
not unlike most other days
my personas keeping secrets from each other
I am in no way surprised I recognize none of it
my usual
I whip my pen out,
Like a man eager,
To unleash his readied member,
From its containment.
My notebook poised,
The anticipating woman
Who quivers slightly,
In open blankness,
Waits to be conquered,
By feverish ink.
The notebook holds my memories dear.
I've written of life and love in here.
Unforgettable times and dearly loved faces,
It takes me back to wondrous places.
Read the lines and you'll have seen
Who I am and who I've been.
From the brightest flash of exultation, to self strewn webs of sorrow
A passion of sparkling content, a heart unbearably hollow
Relive every sensation, ponder every sentiment
One pencil and a notebook can create a monument.
My plan this morning was not to write.
I fed the cat.
Made coffee
Saw a notebook
Bam!
Plan failed.
Here I sit
Writing all kinds of junk.
Some makes sense.
Some does not.
I care not.
I am a writer
Doing what writers do….
Some writers sit in front of a typewriter
I sit in front of a notebook
when the urge hits i caress the words
on paper dotting i's and crossing t's
everything comes together in a beautiful
poem that captures a readers eye
He captivated her attention
She wrote his name all over her notebook
Dreamed of him, hoped he dreamed of her
Under his spell, she tried to outthink what he wanted
Giving him her full self, emotionally and mentally.
Loved being in love
my friend Susan has arrived at the restaurant early
way too early, Susan
way way way early
There goes my poem-writing-time
I put my notebook away
and fix my face into a crooked smile
hoping my “hello, glad to see you”
sounds sincere.
Cardboard bound, paper built
And shackled in plastic rings
The world labelled Notebook
Hold all sorts of wondrous things.
Pages stained with a hundred spells,
Brings the land alive,
So tell me, weary traveller,
What do you need archived?