Short Pocketful Poems
Short Pocketful Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Pocketful by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Pocketful by length and keyword.
fortune pocketful
the lines of his front palm read ~
sought a sage gypsy
Date written: 05/05/2023
Ring-a-ring O’Townsmen,
A pocketful of strawberries,
Whistle-on! Whistle-on!
Pennies all fall down.
© Suzanna Scarlett Sladojevic, 2019.
A nightmare only slowly goes away
as the sun rises on a brand new day,
a pocketful of fingers,
a feeling that still lingers,
a sky that turns from black to blue,
and a story that just might be true.
Walking Dante's ninth circle,
a pocketful of sunshine
and blood full of blossoming promise.
I'm alive
and dead.
The gods laugh at me—
or is it Bacchus alone?
A hedonist,
looking for approval,
unaware of mine own godhood.
Food has power
Peanuts boost mind
Heavy when take.
Any nuts will do
As long it feeds
My tummy's needs.
Relax, eat nuts
To pass the time
Mingle with fun.
Nuts, corn bits, flakes
Mix nuts in one
A bowl suffice.
All these snack
Comes in handy
Or pocketful.
I eat peanuts
When I play chess
Win some, lost some.
No-one truly knows what a moment is worth.
The movie's not over till the credits are run.
Life will never be fair for time has no conscience.
...and then we rip their wings off.
Plastic, silencer of the pocketful of nips timpani.
The dog looked as if it had been used to dust under the bed.
A feral cat stared into the abyss of hunger.
John G. Lawless
©6/14/2023
Lotsa' things I don't need no more...
A clock, a calendar, a schedule book...
An income tax form...
A bank account...
A Hallmark Card...
Insurance, a credit card
A book of stamps...
A pocketful of starlight...
A moon for romance...
So many things I once deemed
of great worth,
Now I have no need for, why, my God,
Did these things once seem,
the core of my life on Earth?
A pocketful of crinkled hope
and all the midnight yearnings...
As feathers from a bird of flight
increase his chance of landing
A tattered loyalty displayed
although it’s old and torn and frayed
A masterpiece in darkest blue
the eyes in the backround belong to you.
A mind distilled with tolerance
and dealings kept on ice
If you could turn the crags of time
backward it would be nice.
Form:
I've cut through life with grand experience. Now I'm old and standing on the
precipice where a man finds what really matters. The dance of life gradually slows down, with nothing but a pocketful of memories. Facing that last hurrah
and the joys and sorrows that make life all the more lived. When tall shadows point the way behind a late sky, and that first sight of heaven...where men learn to fly!
In this solitude cold morning,
I see you in stripe.
With umbrella atop your head
And a pocketful of your hand,
You walk gracefully with filmed legs.
My two eyes were deep and mumble
My skin was warm against the cold wind.
Then, you're nearing towards me
I just look to the horizon
When you smile.
Time, you're passing by
I just close my eyes and imagine,
That my eyes condemned by my heart.
Hearts naive
In clouds
Of her masquerading sun
That’s when
A pocketful of innocence
Spills into the rain, so numb
And the warmth
Of Love fantasy
Mingles with reality and its coming flood
Caught ever suddenly
Unsheltered
In the down pour of rejected love
Lost like...
Oil swirled rainbows
Drained through life’s gutters of emotional mud
And I wait, and wait
For the cold stinging pain
That never too soon will dry and just be done
I'm like Winnie the Pooh
Can't keep My hands out the hunny
Nah, I aine making jokes
Cause it sure aine funny
But, it gives A brother reason to smile
By keeping his days, All sunny
Especially, when they So hot
Until, it makes the nose runny
Got Me feeling like I'm rich
With a pocketful of money
What, you're asking if
I see Women, as a Playboy Bunny
No, it's just that they're like the bees
When making Love, Sweet as honey
far far away
where skies are always grey
but hearts glad
hellos are common
warming wintry mornings of purest white.
this fairytale land
where snowflakes litter pretty dreams
and days are short but happy.
I now return to a land of sunshine and more sunshine
casting aside winter's cold
for cotton shirts and flip-flops
where humid nights greet tepid dawns
clutching a pocketful of snow dreams
and songs of a winter white world, far far away.
withholding...
raging avalanche
of perfervid feelings
that can never be expressed.
his heart hijacked
at very first glance.
a pocketful of dreams to share.
much too much to confess.
yet, he'll hold his tongue
in perpetuity.
alas, she belongs...
to someone else.
Date written: 02/12/2022