Short Peasant Poems
Short Peasant Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Peasant by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Peasant by length and keyword.
An apostle of verse,
a peasant of prose
To inspire divine,
to explain—Heaven knows
(Wayne Pennsylvania: June, 2019)
King
Haughty,royal
Ruling, gloating,dining
Gold,mansion,clay,straw
Sowing,hoeing,starving
Humble, ragged
Peasant
6-16-19
A modern day peasant, I am
Cause the $money$ all goes to the man
Pay a few bills
Buy a few frills
And don't forget old Uncle Sam
Look at bulls
in blue suits
well fed, swollen
from the humus
of peasant labor
Good soup
they would be
if offered
for cocktails
Cement sidewalks blaze
My feet I need nourishment
Here there's water sweet!
I have traveled painfully
I now finally feed treat!
When the fog lifts and
dew has fallen, let the clouds
reveal what darkness
has hidden. Gurgled cries from
peasant victims, now silent
Ho, ho, ho! It’s me, Santa Claus!!
And you barged into my house because?
Well duh, I’m here for your presents
Well, I’m calling 911 you peasant!!
The peasant to the princess bows
His lowly heart with love is filled
But love is not a one way street
In his dreams alone love's tango thrills
Since I've been born.
Just a peasant girl,
Not worth diamonds or pearls.
Born with the sheep
Have to sleep in the big dung heap.
Used and worn,
Ragged and torn.
Form:
Two sons had 'Peasant' Bruegel
Pieter 'the elder' nicknamed hell
another known as 'younger' with 'h' in his name
second son Jan ,also with his art,found fame
The peasant scrapes charbroiled stones from his field—
“Hope is a feathered thing” refusing to yield.
Inspired by “Hope Takes Wing” by Chetta Achara [2025]
Step forward step forward you peasant you.
Time to chop off your head and lay you to bed, six feet under is where you will be
all because you dropped my Danish on me!
Deed beseeches with no passion,
Ruled like a peasant,
By cussing, language was weaken,
Rationality overruled by emotion,
Ignorance detests reason,
These mongrels play chicken.
What a trick!
I dress up every Sunday,
but only in my mind
My coat and tie in tattered shreds,
the past and future bind
To celebrate in peasant rags,
as memory dances free
Imagining in formal garb
—what only I can see
(Dreamsleep: May, 2022)
A literati once told me
the difference between a peasant
and a pheasant is only 'H'
I replied, the difference between
symbols and cymbals is known only
by 'a' literati 'ess,' you 'c'
~ as I crashed those cymbals in front of he
Unyielding, in an otherwise
Unfeeling wintry day.
Meek smilers, head-scarfed. Blizzard- blitzed.
Shine sweet greetings my way.
More of that iced swiping blows up;
Briefly skews the vision:
Two little chubby bullfinches
Perched their low branch upon.
If I were a peasant girl,
...would you over look it?
If I were a queen with elegance,
..would you love me more?
If I were a peasant girl,
...would you love me more?
If I were a queen in a peasants body,
...would you recognize my love?
Peel the layers of the skin
Find the flavor deep within
Aroma strong a tear is faced
Mouth watering anticipating taste
Raw is strength cooked is mild
Resides in your breath awhile
Humble peasant food ever so strong
At least in one meal a day they belong.
Camille* Pissaro had a son,Lucien**
like his dad an artist,then
Both for a while,neo-impressionists
dotty images at the very least
*https://www.wikiart.org/en/camille-pissarro/peasant-women-planting-stakes-1891
**https://www.bmimages.com/preview.asp?image=00243833001
He thought he was brave and full of wit
He thought so indeed, but the grave is what he bit
The sword raised above him, a tune of horror
The man begged like a peasant, but poorer
The sword drew closer, giving a glimpse of the light
The man drew his eyes closed, dying in fright
A peasant on the land,
A king on the sea,
He sits in command,
And everyone will agree,
He has something planned,
For everyone, whatever it may be.
Not a king with a throne,
But a king of bone,
A man with an obsession,
Some say possession,
But a king of bone, nonetheless.
stunted
emotions
in
a troubled maverick
liberated
by landscapes
impassioned
in pink green & blue
fixation freedom
in a mountain
view
the provincial peasant
prevailed
by
'art of the askew'
still life
in arrested moments
You’ve got the how but not the why,
from heaven so ordained
For that one moment under God,
times fugitive proclaimed
You want to know the reasons past,
but not those left to find
A crown of thorns and peasant robe
—serve only to remind
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)
The smell of dead flowers,
Life dances at "zero hour"-s,
No wonder man is doomed,
when you sit there, deplumed.
Move away, you peasant mongrel,
I'm not to be held,
accountable or to any sense.
Lime-a-way,my sins, oh darling,
even after I washed hands,
they still feel so damning.
12.29.2017
The halo, a ring
Around his head
Peace onto bring
When two people wed
The ring on the finger
Of the new bride
Hopes linger
Evil hide
The smoke ring
The fellow blow
To the ceiling cling
Only the smell show
The doorbell ring
Announcing the guest
Maybe a peasant or a king
Coming to your nest.