Short Plea Poems
Short Plea Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Plea by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Plea by length and keyword.
I plead not guilty your worship, I was tricked by feminine wiles,
And ever since God found out, I’m sleeping on the tiles.
Creator, live in my soul
laughing sun, tickle me
autumn winds, hug me
11/6/2029
That's not him, I swear
To harm a fly, he can't bear
He'd just never dare...
O, please don't lock him away!
Now I see: Crime doesn't pay
Wisdom,
I implore Thee
Grant me the ability to discern
The eternal within
The temporal!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
8 January 2013
My weary pen indites a weary plea,
To thee, who turn'st away eternally.
No deep response,no answer to my soul-
Then set me free, or let me cease to be.
So it seems maybe,
You must save me,
I beg, hear my plea,
Please say that you see.
I misjudged and fell,
Into a deep, dark well
But I rang your bell,
And YOU came, so swell.
Prayer is the most effective tool
to overcome many problems.
When times get so difficult,
the best thing to do is
call on the Father
because He is
the ever
loving
God.
Trump and Pathetic Plea
When in mattress, he would find a flea,
Trump had made another pathetic plea;
I am a loser,
And abuser;
You must impeach and then remove me.
Jim Horn
A humble plea
Dear Soupers, may I make a humble plea –
Please give due thought to the apostrophe!
This fairly simple mark of punctuation
Has often landed in the wrong location!
some or loner
sit on corner
with cup in hand
mabe a paper stand
say can you spare any change
its that hungry pain
theyer not insane
put you mind at ease
its the
HOMELESS PLEA
When my way grows drear,
precious Lord linger near.
When my life is almost gone,
hear my cry, hear my call,
hold my hand lest I fall.
Take my hand, precious Lord,
and lead me home....
Priest of death, I humbly
Plea, we come as meager
Penitents, not seeking
Pardon, but a brief balm
Perchance, a small hope dwells
Permit a corner where
Prayers are heard in hell
3/05/22
The dog slinks past me
a plea in its eye
bowed head upraised
barely
Turning toward me
piteously --
Snap!
its collar is yanked back
by its imperious master
Plea denied
What makes a pest one?
When the sun is gone,
The mighty song of nocturnal begins
night is alive with their chorus
Of screams and yelps and bleeps
Do they really, truly, want to
Kill?
Oh Lady, you make my head wobbly spin.
Don’t show such a harsh contemptuous grin.
I fall prostrate at your feet.
From you, expect a fair treat.
Your sole unshared love, can I ever win!
The wise man
On his knees the divine implored
Not to grant him immortality
For
Unbearable he found
To witness eternally the suffering
Of Man!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
07 June 2021
I sit quietly on your spice shelf,
You notice the others, never myself,
a humble tin of ground nutmeg.
Please hear me. I don't wish to beg.
I wait here, nightly, wide awake -
please put me in your pie or cake.
Sleep escapes
on tiptoes
leaves the door ajar
soon it is far
far away
O, how I pray
for its return
Will it hear my plea
~ if only it could see
A NEW YEAR PLEA
My muse has left me high and oh so dry,
Just when I needed inspiration, my of my,
New Year in, the old Year out,
What must I do, bewildered, in doubt,
When will my muse return I wail, plead and cry!
String me a Vivaldi
seasonal song,
Sing me a Mozart
opera..'ere the day long;
Fill my emotions
with Mahler's tears,
Soothe me with Satie
and banish my fears.
Into mine ears,make music please
..begone..farewell..dis-ease
.
love
cannot
be destroyed
they'll never know
truth
*For John Freeman’s “They Know Not What They Did” interpretation
We had laughs
We had cries
We had each other
We have love
We have passion
We have “it”
We need a little more respect
A little more communication
And we would have it ALL
My God, how I want you
and love you
Be mine again!
Mirror, mirror on bathroom wall
bring back the face that I recall
when I was young, full of vigor
and was happy with my figure,
before all of me needed a big overhaul.
By: Joyce Johnson
For contest: Reflections of a Florette 9/5/14
A blank sheet of paper,
Awaits the golden pen,
To scribe words of rhyme and verse,
From treasures locked within.
Sweet muse unlock the door,
To imagination's bower,
And let my words flow freely,
As I seek to write this hour.
7/18/21
To blow my own trumpet is just not my style
But could you please place me on top of the pile?
My inbox is bulging with NAs galore
I'm begging you, Bobby,don't give me one more!
02.03.19
'I am a winner Poetry Contest' sponsored by Bobby May