Short Pocket Knife Poems
Short Pocket Knife Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Pocket Knife by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Pocket Knife by length and keyword.
fingernails cut
with pocket knife
dirt too deep
to scrape
his grandson
held
his thumb
like a warm
wooden toy
i could calmly
spread open my
hand and take the
knife pulled
from my heart
then quickly play
a game of
pocket knife
and slight of hand
actually
to be exact
fingers spread
it's not
slight of
hand but
mumblypeg
Form:
Driving in my combie,
I see a zombie.
He was dead,
Like the radio had said.
Running for my life,
With only a pocket knife.
Although the end is near,
The world has no fear.
Zombies eat brains,
But todays humans only have grains
Been carrying one since I was five, to school and everywhere, moons 60 now
Cut leather, whittle on a stick, never as a weapon, where has common sense gone?
If I was to go through a metal detector at any airport now, the knife would be a tool of mass
destruction!
Form:
My favorite get-away throughout my life
Deep in the forest is a raging river
With my fishing pole, some hooks, and pocket knife
I catch rainbow trout and fill up my quiver
All alone, no children, not even my wife
My lovely secret hide out, none knew whither
Eight miles of long and winding paths I travel
To this place where I let my thoughts unravel
in the back of the room he leans on his side
hand in his pocket like theres nothing to hide
but a pocket knife and a clever disguise
watching me watch him, both deeply deprived
red strokes in his eyes like hes always high
his head full of truth and his mouth filled with lies
a bloody c ondom in his trash bag at home
and a girl wrapped in there with broken bones
Under divinities shadow,
Rests the tree of life.
With aromatic branches,
Dissected by a pocket knife.
Medicinal veins lushly flow,
Carrying remedial cures.
A verdant daze ensues,
As romantic buds allure.
Poetic smoke…recites,
The stanzas of cannabis trees.
As healthy lungs exclaim,
The power of curative leaves.
_______________________
Inspired by a Lucky Lopez!!!
I cry hysterically
and scream at the sky.
"Come on, God! Do it! Just let me die!"
I fall to me knees
and start punching the ground.
Wow.. I'm pretty screwed all around.
All I ever wanted was a normal life.
Now my mother as to hide
my pocket knife...
I collapse on my bed and scream...
Why is God so mean?!?!
What did I do to deserve it all??
Will my life get better?
Or am I destined to fall...?
Flame and ash light the sky.
My little heart leaps so high.
Fire is beautiful most powerful of all.
Only the wisest can control her and not fall.
Flame and ash fill the sky.
A happy tear fills my eye.
This wonderful power would obey.
Following my order without a single sway.
Trustable unlike any human alive.
For me, I try and fight to help myself strive.
Only with fire to light my life.
That and my trusty pocket knife.
My grandfather made a gift of his pocket knife. It wasn’t in his will or anything, he just quietly took my hand, put the silver knife, shining after all these years, into my palm and folded his wrinkled, work worn hands around my twelve year old fingers. The handle was cool and smooth to the touch. It didn’t come with a card; no words were spoken–just the knowing look of a shared secret.
cutting through
the summer breeze–
single blade of grass
underwater
thinking about slaughter
open to discussion
wanting to play percussion
refusing to breath easy
having difficulty and feeling queasy
hearing a different rhythm
trapped in a spinning abstract prism
wanting to break the seductive glass
wishing i could get a special pass
laying in the sand
newly bought pocket knife in hand
thinking about neckties
wanna slice until something wet flies
underwater
thinking about slaughter
then out of the blue
I.....HEAR.....YOU