Short Pixilated Poems
Short Pixilated Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Pixilated by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Pixilated by length and keyword.
oh yes, I am pixilated
This cannot be overstated
At least I am not still constipated
movements never premeditated
my freedom is to be celebrated
Squeaks shrieks and whistling chirps
mixed with mimicry, colourful
spotted speckled iridescent darlings
Pixilated torturous waves at dusk
mesmerising murmurations escaping the day
starlings, self-pursued sardines of the sky
flowing contorting distorting, fly
Squeaks shrieks and whistling chirps
mixed with mimicry, colourful
spotted speckled iridescent darlings
Pixilated torturous waves at dusk
mesmerising murmurations escaping the day
starlings, self-pursued sardines of the sky
flowing contorting distorting, fly.
smoke darkened glass
shone while revealing
a secret, perhaps truth
whose imagination speaks?
Decompressed thoughts evaporate
onslaught of pixilated moments
cats image, mothers face
forms informing
standards fly with surety
blazoning arms,
lion rampant
another time
fascination ensues...
pixilated farm and a castle too
teeny fuzzy boxes of green, red and blue
minecraft fever enticing both me and you
my sheep are wandering, what do I do?
inviting friends now, of course, just a few.
my computer prowess has quickly grew
the grass is green, and the air is azure blue
a pixilated farm and a castle too
Mario's jumps
Sonics speed
The assassins creed
A resident from evil silent hills
Upset the birds
Link hands with Crazy Trevor
as Michael plans escape
Yoshi's tongue frozen by an elemental ninja
Johnny looking cagey since Sonia left anyway
Build a fort
Tonight mine crafts
coming together in
black operations
with pixilated light
Digital disaster on the horizon.
With a monitor tan he plunges on.
One's and zero's spew pixilated perversion,
while assembled atoms await in his bed.
The molecular world, violated by binary delight,
will forfeit its reality, and go offline.
Digital disaster is on the horizon
and a life's work about to be lost.
The virus is spreading.
Wrestling in kitten-covered lawns,
Driving through your potato heart,
What did we begin?
When did we start?
Smoothing into your pixilated hair,
Bending into the fields with angels,
Why have we softened?
Where are the angles?
Ambrosia Wednesdays, Alfalfa Tuesdays,
Send me your message in big, bright colors.
How have we forgotten?
Who now sits in our old parlors?
Drowning in foolish beliefs;
Pixilated portraits falling off
Corroded walls;
Blank canvases pervaded by
Grainy brush strokes,
Billowing amidst scattered flickers of
Crumbling structures,
Ambling in blighted stillness.
Venturing to find equilibrium in
This cryptic world,
Stranded and abandoned,
Layered upon a
Pillar of empiric darkness,
Glazed in meaningless semantics.
Electronic books of your face and form
taken with a new camera.
The eyes that see it are older now.
You, all of you, digitally sewn together,
pixilated into our history.
Long bygone visions
of your once and before images
caught in thin scraps of time
and clipped from much longer threads;
Something else,
a partial portrait,
a revealing of a heretofore
of what we both left within each other
after.