Short On Tenterhooks Poems
Short On Tenterhooks Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about On Tenterhooks by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about On Tenterhooks by length and keyword.
Black ice in a
white glass, I drink today
philter for moon.
Paradise, I
find nowhere. World sleeps
on tenterhooks.
The yellow dead
rose lost naked feel,
in blue water.
Satish Verma
I am on tenterhooks again
Tell me the reason why
And be assured, I’ll understand
The hardest of replies
The only thing I have for you
Is love to an extreme
And I can guarantee its true
Exactly what I mean
Please come to me, my darling love
Just lean your head on me
And there will be more stars above
And one will fall for thee.
Sweet and sensual
coconut melts along the top
staggered familiar sizes and shapes
droolings on the tongue, ambrosia
running through the fields like fidgety children
restless and free on tenterhooks
flitting like butterflies on the hunt
flower nectar candied on the bloom
drawn into the dream
of marshmallowed confectionaries
sweet sugared goodies
nectar for the gods
and simple butterflies.
The home office became synonymous with covid. Men built desks, for their wives, with their bare hands. Once again, a hammer and nails, took to a tree. Once again, and perhaps, for such a time as this, a husband found out just how hard at work his wife truly is.
—quote by poet
Taking Licks
Lily licks my hand
with tiny sandpaper tongue
as far as it goes
fur’s unruffled on desk shelf
on tenterhooks, daughter works
This restlessness won't leave me,
it buzzes about my chest
as though it were a field of daisies
waiting to be pollinated
by a swarm of fretful bees
who sting like honed pebbles
but never die
At night, I can hear the daffodils whimpering
from my windowsill,
they reach for me
with limp limbs,
I feed them honey
spit on their soil
and read a poem from my diary
but they're still ill at ease
so we count stars
wishing one might fall through
our fluttering hearts
Out in the rain the restless winds
now moan as winter's pale rescinds.
The flowers at the window bay
are silent bells that stiffly sway
while marching on the roof begins,
a riot of a billion pins
that shatter all my disciplines.
I clasp my hands as if to pray
out in the rain.
I feel the breath of pardoned sins;
on tenterhooks this mid-March grins
its unborn promise. I'm away
to spread my arms in gleeful splay
and echo tales this cloudburst spins
out in the rain.
3/12/18