Short Off One Poems
Short Off One Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Off One by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Off One by length and keyword.
Soldiers,
rucksacks in place,
marching, calling cadence:
"Sound off, one two. Sound off, three four."
"Hooah"
6/4/15
I really love to sprint,
my favorite is the relays,
Handing the baton off one by one,
To the finish line I come.
Sprinting is what I love.
All ‘red lines’ erased by the sands of time
Cross them off one-by-one
~ over them climb
Rutherford Creampuff Sensitive Chest
Holds his hurt feelings next to his vest.
Dee Junior a mean cad,
Hurt his feelings so bad.
He ran off one day, heading way out west.
Not us they said. You cannot make us shelter in!
Memorial Day they ran to the beaches for fun.
We do not buy into your story, Dr. Fin.
Covid 19 now killing them off one by one.
Is this talking? A fleeting glance,
Another episode of our non-romance,
He's eye candy for older babes,
He'll saunter off one day,
is this talking? He blows a kiss,
Imagine being his old miss of bliss!
I rode the emotion like a horse
until the shoes fell off one by one
Leaving me silent and alone
A horseless prophet on the raging sands
—desperately trying to harness the wind
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
Eventually all loves will go away.
Either dying off one by one
or hobble away to nowhere.
After they're gone
the best we can wish for
is to feel the bones of their kisses
and the soul of memories.
The reward for longevity is loneliness.
the wild take off, one crumb more
not one less, just enough to fly
wings lift into where the wind blows
in shadows dwell the banal, clods on snow feet
language of watching remain in judgment blurs
when their power lies dormant, waiting ~
Picked off, one by one,
mothers, sons, uncles,
Aunts, some when fell, ****
their pants/the muscles
See, they start to dance.
Proud?
It was a war/kill them or
they’d kill
First; hand grenade or AK
Aimed at me
And now I wonder if some
mother’s son
Saw me today, what he’d
Say?
In an AK-47 way
Fierce Kansas wind whips notebook out of my hand
Rapidly flips through the pages, tearing them off one by one
As if an unseen hand of a spiritual critic is at work.
Diligently slicing them off, as if they are no good.
I laugh as I chase the pages around the yard
Wondering if I will have the nerve to publish any of them now.
There once was a boy with two sticks.
He bounced on both pogos; planned tricks.
One day he fell down
He laughed like a clown.
Then, sprung off; one foot on each stick.
Copyright March 8, 2015
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest Spring Forward
(Finished too late to enter, though.)
Sponsor Debbie Guzzi
Inspired by my grandsons!
The museum closed for ever,
and I was there
when they turned off the lights
They were turned off one by one...
At first the boardroom's
where Jacqui cried, I think
then the conference room
where they dismantled
all the plugs
then the rooms on all the floors,
and I could not stand it -
the long drawn-out goodbye
12/25/2015
I find it sadistic to gaze upon a star
but without the ability to touch it.
On this precious earth, free will is beyond anybody's reach.
Free will is the greatest tease.
I feel wholly blessed that I'm not totally blind.
We're all trapped in a skin cage of ego.
Careening off one another.
Pinballs in a secondhand arcade
Flawed and chipped and forever on tilt.
A WIFE
Someone buried my rights on previously set soil
And I woke up with the glass between my teeth
What are you staring at, he wondered surreptitiously
And waved his hand, slowly, before my eyes
Before I bit them off, one by one
And the blood ran down, infecting the air with the dog beneath and behind
I’ll put on the red dress, I said
If you watch me do it.
Freedom fish have devolved into a bait ball.
In tighter and tighter circles, they swim.
Picked off one by one, by invisible things.
Nothing left but scars and stripes -graying meat of death.
Gracing the hazy floor of myth and history.
Eels of anarchy grinning from caves.
Red crabs traverse purple mounds.
Black fins thrashing the amber waves.
Gulls finish off what's "far left" of sane.
You can't say
months or years
w-/ out trying
to grasp the scale
of Time
involved.
Rubber bands
pinging off one
two three
kidneybean cans,
chosen simply for
occupation of space
line space,
imagery
in a cage. Thats
how I'll write
from now on
pacing the
paperbacked floor
fingernails my only fuel.
Scritch scratching down
the blackboard.
If only to make you
Flinch
As you are stripped of all material possessions little by little...
As your masks crack and slip off one by one...
As your pride destruction lessens moment to moment...
As the ego priorities change person to person...
As you look in the mirror day by day...
Do you know who you are?
you are love,
you are beauty,
you are compassion,
you are peace,
you are joy,
you are happiness,
you are loved.
You treat your heart like skipping stones
Tossing it out on loves lake alone
Counting off one, two, three
Trying not to skip a beat
The problem in this you find
Yourself always on the shoreline
Instead of dipping your toes
In the lake of love you'll never know
It's hard to throw when you have
A handfull of broken hearts from the past
Where all you do is toss your stones
Standing on the life's shore alone
We were fed up with Martha’s snoopy way
Cheered when her head rolled off one day
Did her head stop talking?
It surely did not; it kept squawking.
It kept rolling over and over.
So we put it into a bird cage pot.
Martha was always putting people in situations on the spot.
Her nose grew bigger and bigger, I kid you not.
She was always in everyone’s business, giving advice.
She did not have many friends for she was not real nice.
I am godly she said
I will be judge and jury
telling you how to behave
giving you grades on your activities
no need to thank me
I know all
My way is the only way
I am religious
one who is close to Godliness
I will give you my full attention
No need to thank me
Knowing best is what I do well.
Her acquaintances did not stay around long
Not long enough to become friends
Sneaking off one at a time
after a few hours
of her incessant
Godliness
Three hundred and sixty-six days
To hang upon the wall;
Each to be marked off one by one
From winter-time to fall.
I hope when you have each lived them
And every day is done,
You will look back and tell yourself,
“It’s been a lot of fun.
Each day has brought me some gladness,
In small or large amount,
And together brought more blessings
Than I can even count.”
After this coming festive Eve,
Fresh calendar we view.
I now wish a year of wonder
To every one of you.