Short Pile Poems
Short Pile Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Pile by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Pile by length and keyword.
Alas, all this pile, has not got much sense,
Ha’pence for all the lot;
Had but a clue I been taught,
I’d not compose utter rot.
There once was a joy to behold,
A glorious pile of gold,
But the riches were cursed
Making folks do their worst
So their gold pile would grow by twofold.
There once was a man from San Marcos
Came home to a strange pile of carpet
Didn’t know what it was,
Scratched a chin full of fuzz,
And said, “P’raps I’ll take it to market”
Pile of dried branches
fuel for October’s bonfires—
Haven for wildlife
The plane pierced into the pile, exploded loudly, Human fleshes every where .
Whispers of the night wind
Crackle the fallen leafs
I awake from my dreams of you
In the morning I burn the leaf pile
Form:
For all I know, I know nothing
Who can say when enough is sufficing.
No way to verify what searches reap
To winnow out truths from junk pile heap.
Garbage tower to heaven meant
Like babel feeds bewilderment.
a pile here, a pile there
flows down our hallway and up our stairs
wafting about is Buddy’s hair
it’s in my nose, it’s in the air
pretty soon my dog will be all bare
while his huge fur balls chase me here and there
A PILE OF WORDS
They just fell onto the page
as I leaned over the desk
pouring from my addled brain
tumbling in meaningless streams
rebuffed by the virgin whiteness
brushed aside by a tormented muse.
John G. Lawless
8/25/2015
A full-bellied stray has been surveying the brush pile
I think she's carved out a stick hut for her litter
She'll have a ball of responsibilities very soon
Her life will thicken like storm clouds in winter
the bonfire can wait another season, or two.
Babs the bear collected colorful leaves that fell like tears
Her breath gave them a sheen, and kept them fresh for years
She had a pile of them in reds, blues, yellows, greens, and yellows.
Strategically placing them in her cave; she played with the little fellows.
I sort bubbling dishes in proper place
I drown absorbed sink with soapy water and towering dishes
They pile up-- what's the point of doing them?
I place a towel next to the filthy sink
I drown dishes and try my hardest to dry them without a drop
But what good would it do-- dishes pile up!
birds fall hunger-wise...
before
cold winters shortages...
today a woodpecker ate...
such an
overfill it had to lay on the...
feeder for ten minutes till...
its throat
cleared so that it could fly...
it was such a 'pile he ate' that...
it's
called a 'pileated' woodpecker...
stans sand
Words
pile up
and hasten my demise
into subconscious realms
of translucid reality
and all the while
it just gets too difficult
for me to comprehend
as I listen to complaints
from the weak and wretched
as they discuss their peeves
and I not really caring
not really wanting to hear
and being too cowardly
to just walk away
Ratty cat, ratty cat,
old and alone,
sitting on a wood pile,
making it his own..
Ratty cat, ratty cat,
listening and wondering.
Why has the sky grown dark?
Could that be thundering?
Ratty cat, ratty cat,
here comes the rain..
Fur now soaking wet thru an
orange matted mane..
Ratty cat, ratty cat,
drenched as can be.
Are you waiting there for
a free meal from me?
f*ck justin bieber
f*ck harold and kumar
f*ck huey lewis
f*ck star trek
f*ck everything that isn't classical music
f*ck art that doesn't make sense who the f*ck would pay
5 billion dollars for splotches
of
paint
f*ck mariah carey
f*ck reading books
get a kindle god dammit
it's 2012
and people still read books
and listen to the beatles
what the f*ck is wrong with you troglodytes
The words pass from my lips
Scrambled and jumbled
From my pen tips
Reflections
About my present affections
Or a deep emotion
Like a potion
Tantalizing my sentiment
How it wears on me
Like a tenement
Knocking down my weak walls
Forcing me to fall
Into the depths of blunt insensible fog
The only hopes of clearing my mind
Is defined
By removing my madness
In an eternal sleep
In this heap
The poor man is still in grief;
He was being linked with a thief!
A real big blow to A Chief…
Thrice he’d tried a spiced-up beef
But the glad bites turned out brief;
“Spreading wide is wrong belief;
To that beef holds no relief.”
He’d be leaving for some reef,
There to not be reaching beef:
Agreed place of his exile;
To stay there not for a while…
No one wants again his guile…
His case files: Stacked-high pile.
Pretty papers piled perfectly perpendicular
Pappy’s preference prefers papers piled properly
Patricia Pappy’s precious princess plunders pile
Pappy painfully piles papers properly precise
Precious princess packs precise papers perfectly
Pappy pondering protecting pretty piled papers
Purposely purchases proper padlock protection
Pouting Precious Princess Patricia picks padlock
Pappy paddles Pouting Precious Princess Patricia
Form:
Tender heart of yours when in storm it breaks
Shower of melting cloud drenches sad eyes
Under trying test promise of trust wrecks
Flower called ardor drowns in tears … love dies
Splendor of grand times splinters in faint flakes
Hour of reckoning calls from dust to rise
Console the soul … lift from the pile of pain
Stroll at new dawn on garden path again.
June 4, 2019
Syllable count : 10 each line
Checked on howmanysyllables.com
A child was killed at this intersection on Tuesday.
A cross is on the spot before nightfall.
By noon Wednesday stuffed animals have arrived.
And dozens of cheap plastic flowers from dollar stores.
They are making an ugly pile around the cross
Which now has a giant photograph of the
Eight-year-old child who was killed here on Tuesday
It rained all day Thursday and Friday.
Making the site even sadder.
Which I did not realize was possible.
Being sad
Isn't bad
It's okay to cry
Once in a while
You just feel like you have to sigh
All your problems just pile
Depression is like recession
You can't keep filling up a jar
Not expecting it to overflow
It can only hold so much
When you have to stop you'll know
When the water passes the rim
All your emotions will come out
You can't stop that on a whim
But youu can control if you pout
Don't be afraid of crying
No one wants you lying
It is time for us to embrace our differences, enjoy each other’s cultures
A time to rejoice in the diversity God gave each of us to admire and revere
We need to gather together, teach each other our mantras and our songs
Tell our folk stories, our relative stories, our experience stories.
To pile ourselves into a stone wall, not to keep people out
But as an invitation to others to bring us into their light;
To share their stones and stories, unity is love and love is unity.
Work was there,
All lined up and piling,
I saw the pile,
And simply began to file,
Thought would do it later,
Though full was my platter,
Tomorrow came and more was loaded,
My courage now gave up,
As I nibbled a little work at around sup,
Next day more was there,
And I lost scruples and turned hay wire,
Now I could not even sort the pile,
Not to talk about getting it out,
The moment I looked at it,
My stomach turned and rose the bile,
I rued the day,
When I had begun to file.