Short Planks Poems
Short Planks Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Planks by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Planks by length and keyword.
massive oak timbers
hearty men piped to action
mighty war machine
planks resisted cannonballs
like our nation, still afloat
my friend really thought
Gandhi's first name was Goosey
thick as two short planks
(For contest 'Colloquialisms', sponsored by Laura Leiser)
July 2nd 2015
in stagnant water
aesthetic ecstasy sinks~
engulphed by a lake
planks in protrusion
brooding clouds enshroud a pier~
silver lining plush
Suddenly seeing imageries in the shed's wooden planks,
As though my own mind is playing optical illusional pranks,
Finally have found the right high that hits me like heavy tanks.
Life is a balancing game.
At times through dilapidated bridge,
With shattered rails and planks,
We have to daringly pass,
To reach our desired destination.
Playful as a puppy
pouncing, as a child I'd
pound upon black and white
planks, listening to the
pitch, noticing that my
Pa's voice sounded like the
placement of my left hand.
9-16-23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Salt-weathered planks hum
under barefoot dawn wanderers—
tide's breath lingers long.
The bridge sighs with old stories,
rusted whispers to the gulls.
I cross a river of sticks-
frozen, the fallen brothers
of the War of the Seasons.
Snotty dew grasps at siena tips
in a crack between the planks of time
as the Gods cast white petals down
from some isle south of heaven.
a breaking storm
at sea
lost in a white
-foamed
wave
dark skies
planks of
wood men
overboard
floating dots
of flesh scream
-ing in the clim
-ing tide
the sea
holds her secrets
flesh covered
with silver glory
the gold coin
the faded face
Sit-ups, planks, and crunches
My push-ups done in bunches
Deep heavy squats from the rack
Deadlifts are good for my back
Just pumping up my biceps
And cutting up my triceps
I'm sweating harder each day
So I look sharp when I play
Build your home on the riverbank
and the river will fashion sticks
build it upon a mountaintop
and the mountain will make planks
place your bones amongst the stars
and they will giggle lightly
pitch a tent in heaven
and forever shine brightly.
thanks for the skanks on billboard planks but we got another,a brother from
hartford,dang,i forgot his name,said we could play as long as he payed,it was
ok.im on the george bush team,any dream will do as long as you,submit the
proper form,thas yours.
When being awake
is hard and unbearable.
When in restless dreams
peace is fleeting.
What else is in there to live and hope for
if not only to be eager for your own demise?
The planks of wood may come and cover me
forwhy about this life I have nothing else to say.
The cloth aged
Likes the wrinkles of the face
The colours of the embroideries faded
Likes the eyesight of an old woman
The threads gone loose
Likes the screws
Between planks of an olden hut
Only the stains of an old lipstick
Still fresh in the heart
Of a sun-set love
Chill in the morning
As the sun glimmer softly
After a mountain
Cool breeze whispers hushed
Aroma sizzles from cup
Of roasted fine beans
Dew trickles from top
Dousing planks spewing earth scent
Thumping, thumping feet
Birds seamed melody
Waking colors of nature
Thought, silence whispered
Darken planks fall upon the city streets shining, as the rain falls upon them.
Cries are felt from passing shadows living inside their head. Their blank expressions are felt deep within one's core.
Wasted dreams linger in the nights air as a glimpse of a moments memory brings a smile but quickly fades away.
Beside the prison's bars stands my pride,
Holding the key to a road free.
Forgiveness planks floors to walk upon the rock
With soul flying against a momentum of hopes dying.
What trial could forgive, relieve the pain between my eyes?
The rules are set and I am playing to pay the debt
In a game unfair, in a game unfair.
O helpless-me; atrophied on the planks of rigidity
Creaks to the tune of my pain- in anguish suffers but
Less than when thou from bough patterned to plan
Now serves- silently in stillness, but not I, I cry
O fallow- me, morose, neither die nor live to give
Time tied, greed to grab rich, all on same boat
From where I stand
leaning
which way up
patches of blue
or jewelled black vertigo
bring me back to earth
and heaven is still here
Untrustworthy planks of mentality wobble
loose chemical nails
and windows rattle
in the human eddies
Time to back up
clean the head
reboot
save the screen
recalibrate
sleep
2.04
Chicago, the South Side,
long before Barack Obama
those I'd love see live
anywhere they like
are those so black
they up long planks
in the heat of summer
wheelbarrow coal
so bright it pours
in a silver seiche
down chutes
through windows
of bungalow basements
crashing in coal bins
of new masters
Donal Mahoney
Deep and true the cove
of azure blue and moss green
welcoming my ship
A dock floats ahead
with worm rotted wood planks
and tarnished brass cleats
Stay the anchor deep
among the rocks and coral
bring about the bow
Venture not to shore
The real beauty lies beneath
the calm seas surface
Pirate women permeate my spaces.
They are fierce and fabulous.
You dare not lie to them.
They will cut you to shreds, with their swords.
Cut you to ribbons.
I do not crouch in fear.
I created them.
They are ruthless, savage,
out for blood.
Thirsty for it.
I walk their planks proudly.
Eager for the drowning
that awaits.
Coal Bins
Chicago, the South Side,
long before Barak Obama
those I'd love see live
anywhere they like
are those so black
they up long planks
in the heat of summer
wheelbarrow coal
so bright it pours
in a silver seiche
down chutes
through windows
of bungalow basements
crashing in coal bins
of new masters
Donal Mahoney
Come out of the closet
come out of the rooms
filled with the gloom
I'm out of the caves and jacket tombs
cut down those trees
on the move those condemned houses
remove the planks from around your hearts
raise up the blinds
so you can see out be forgiven
like Grace is come walk in open spaces
10/18/17
James Edward Lee Sr©2017
I dip my toes into the lake
beneath our dock of Summers gone.
Chilled skin meets sun, soft in their wake
as Mayflies hum in misty dawn.
A day of flushed sky overhead.
Bare legs sway from the splintered planks
to songs of joy unlimited
as loons take flight from marshy banks.
Written for: A Lay for A Day in May Contest,
5/9/22