Short Pitchforks Poems
Short Pitchforks Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Pitchforks by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Pitchforks by length and keyword.
The Angels
have gone
Only devils
are left
Clouds
die infested
With fire
beset
Pitchforks
are glowing
Coal burning
the harps
Grace lost
in the smoke
Tomorrow
— is dark
(Dreamsleep: September, 2024)
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?
If the Rubik's Cube was Round
Would the Earth not?
Would the men with knives and pitchforks
After Eratosthenes be proud?
Would voyagers search far and wide
Once more for the famous edge
Only for the fall
If only the Rubik's Cube was Round
No more swastikas -
you're with Daddy now.
When father sneezes,
Dachau odes are sprayed
onto sandpaper.
Linen tissues
glaze his black horns.
Dish rags polish
obtuse pitchforks.
Papa squirms
in a bag
full of God.
Achoo!
Ach, du
Die!
Gary the gargoyle crept out of his crypt and up the side of a wall
From there he could see that the villagers were no kind of tall
He knew even with pitchforks and hoes they would not scare him
What too you so long? Asked him sidekick, a ghoul name of Jim.
she stealthily sneaked up on farming community
surprising everyone, for they were deep in sleep
threw barns, sheds, tractors and pitchforks into the air
they were whisked away inside her whirling turmoil tunnel
1952 tornado in Nebraska, devastation from an F-4
When you sound your battle cries
I will smile
When you match to my door with your pitchforks
Chanting, cursing, on your crusade of righteousness
I will throw my door wide open still with a smile
It will be my armour and only defence
In the midst of all that you do
I will just smile
Form:
Clean down to the bottom bill
Smashing gobsmacked cashless
Simply crass wealthy wanting more
The silent till awaits the masses
Pouncing plastic rapist rapture
Stripped!! The global bankers dream!
Control the dough by feckless reign
A reckless chain to pitchforks once again
How banal is heartbreak
yet the masses belly up to the bar
to imbibe the bitter brew by the gallon
fermented from the pounds of flesh
she's cut away with her pen
that she keeps preserved
in jars of formaldehyde
Drunk with disdain
her potion resurrecting their pain
her patrons grab the pitchforks
she keeps sharpened by the door
Silent she watches them stumble out
smiling as she counts the bills in the till
The devil whispers his hellos
and I enter into his hellish realm
I'm greeted by pitchforks pinching my sides
and the screems of those who have sinned
My eyes burn from the crimson fire
and my hair goes totally ablaze
Next comes the pain of heat pouring through my veins
with my tears evaporating as soon as they form
"I don't want to be here!", I shout
followed by the devil's laugh
But for me, this will be home
for all eternity
Cali is a descendent of Babylonians
She practices necromancy
conjuring spirits of her ancestors
her rituals and spells are world-renown
bullies who misunderstand despise her
they fear her visions and insights
she often foretells what comes to be
This terrifies those who cannot
Ignorance often courts violence.
Cali’s spiritual guides warn her of the bullies
She escapes their ignorant pitchforks
Praying for their spiritual enlightenment
music to kids ears
Pete carried on with his flute
without parental consent
his larynx engaged
as his footprints leave their clues
there would be scars over soot
townsfolk grab pitchforks
multilingual torches mad
with fear and grief chase down thief
find kids in a trance
listening to final dirge
and piper’s mocking laughter
parent takes the flute
second silence in forest
breaks the jester’s tool in half
Peter Piper’s dust to dust
to rain on someone's
parade ~ is spoil ruin someone's
fun joy happiness
saving for rainy
days ~ are when good turned bad and
you're ready for it
raincheck ~ simplify's
life scheduled prupose arranged
sequentially yours
charge it to the dust
and let the rain settle it
~ just pay or get out
come in out of the
rain ~ it's a losing battle
wake up to the facts
it’s raining pitchforks
British to rain stair rods ~ is
to rain heavily
There once was a boy called Ronald Riddle
Now there was a kid who could really piddle
He weed here and he weed there
That kid Riddle piddled everywhere.
People once thought that there’d been rain
Truth was Ronald was at it again
Eventually the townsfolk just got madder
At the kid with the enormous bladder.
With pitchforks and clubs they chased him away
And the story is told to this very day
Now you may laugh and you may scoff
But this is how we got the term “piss off.”