Short Pack Poems
Short Pack Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Pack by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Pack by length and keyword.
super
interesting
xylophone just cause
poop
amazing
cool
kinetic energy just cause
awesome
boots
super fantastic
I'm 69 years old
I refuse to give in and fold
I work out like crazy
My six pack is hazy
The best I can hope for - Triifold
With Pack on Back Walked Down Track
did leave from small shack
with pack on back walked down track
will never be back
Jim Horn
One
Lone wolf
Without its
Pack will end up
Sorry and alone;
For the pack will
Save its hide,
Alone…
Doom!
its time to goway
have some play
go country side
where gress is wide
mabe horse back ride
so no matter if your
a old hag
PACK YOUR BIGS
A PACK OF SMOKES
A LITTLE TOKE
A LOT OF CHOKE
A DEFINITE CROAK
its that time again
let lreaming in
meet new friends
get your pins
and and paper
all your school stuff
summer soon oveR
no beach clover
PACK UP
why bark for oneself
when gullibility rules,
the runt of the cur
rushes to aid one’s master
rogue awaits to shuffle pack.
© Harry J Horsman 2014
ivory feathers
splayed upon the bones of fall-
autumn requiem
spring's phoenix, birthed of frost
flairs it’s ice shorn wings
An ace of rhyme and rhythmic flow, he trumps the rest ~ his name you know
14.01.20
Who Flips Your Trolley Poetry Contest - sponsored by Bobby May
weather is hot
its boat ride trot
on the ocean
boats in motion
it was pack
has cooler in ther rack
it was cook ham
and soul food
it was cool
this
BOAT RIDE JAM
I am sneaking
Down a side street
I see trashcans
In a backyard
I walk over
To look in them
Refuse waiting
To be picked up
I am happy
To collect it
Because I am
Just a pack rat
Silly smiles drawn
in the sand
finger. prints.
from sea to sun
goofy friend
turns my frown
upside down
a ... dancing ...
clown
Can you say Shakespeare?
~
Daffy me
jim-dandy jingoist’s jolly jargon
jeopardizes jittery Jerry’s jiffy jurisdiction.
Jubilant joyful jongleur jerks judge Jones’
judgement. jam-packed jury jeers joyfully
a jabberwocky.
A pack rat kept more than he should;
He saved every wood scrap he could.
For more room to stack.
he built him a rack;
In doing so, used up his wood!
----------
Silly, but today's project
One day, a wolf sat,
By a babbling brook,
Awaiting a tasty snack.
He spotted a beaver,
His teeth, they cleaved her
Then by hungry bear, he was attacked;
Now he’s in Heaven without his pack.
The scent of game
A trail is plain
With moon on high to guide us
The chase is short
It’s never sport
And food devoured revives us
Through fields and streams
Wolf calls warm breeze
We’ll run on till morning shall find us
When they come in a pack do you run?
Do you hide?
When they have pitchforks, do you cry?
Or do you have scared laughter?
When they bring the tar,
do you provide the feathers?
Taunting them before you fly out of their reach?
accumulation
choking the room bitterly
an embarrassment
carefully tromping through it
side-stepping junk gingerly
My pack rack eye-tis
surrounds me untidily
disturbing eyesore
jumping over largest pile
not inviting company
they lived and give
did the lord will
now theyer are still
sing dance
and prance
some call frank dino sam
pete
all compeat
for what they do
many other too
was talent like a cat
smart like a bat
THEY WER THE RAT PACK
i
Like a pack of wolves
shredding the flesh of their kill,
The pack of priests
tears my soul apart.
~Abdul Malik / 12/19/15 / words: 19
~Something with great impact contest by nette onclaud
Just one pack a day
she says she needs.
Years later - hospitalized with cancer. . .
Just one cigarette -
she pleads
Written 12/17/2015 by Andrea Dietrich
for the SOMETHING WITH GREAT IMPACT!Poetry Contest of nette onclaud
the dogs travel behind me from room to room
as if I am a kite and these three are my ribbons
my husband calls me the pied piper
they like your smell, he tells me.
I have no idea what it is, but they adore me
including me in their pack, and I feel honored
Some people are weird, silly and fat.
You can’t eat jokes,
And we want tears of laughter not sadness.
Days gone by I was always laughing.
Slapstick and custard pies.
A stitch in time saves nine when laughing out loud,
and boys will be boys for crying out loud.
Under a sky full of starlight
the pack gathers led by alpha male,
moon casting a glow so pale,
chasing through forests at night.
Hearing their howls from far away,
startling children out at play,
with no fear of teeth or claw,
welcoming instead the hunting paw.