Short Portends Poems
Short Portends Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Portends by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Portends by length and keyword.
This dark, and what of it skied
A bad thing portends
More dramatic is these structures o'er.
Whose black past with blends.
perfect pace of performance portends potage and potables
5/11/2022
WORK PERSPECTIVE MONOKU
Sponsor: Beata Agustin
the first
day we
laughed
until we
cried
portends
of the last
day when
we would
cry
but
look
back
and
now
laugh
Form:
Hours screaming,
futures pleading,
eternity portends
Voices crying,
souls denying
—as darkness comes again
(Dreamsleep: October, 2020)
If
you
must die
a solemn
death, image the life
that you portray without fanfare.
Life rich with ambiguities
portends a challenge
what is true
knowing
you
lie.
Mystical Moon
Sweet Selene shines soothingly,
Waxed full, full formed,
Portends potent portents of some import
Some silent, some spoken
Some sinister, some saintly.
Mystical moon, lunatic Luna..
How do you start over
consumed by the end
Beginnings aborted
as judgment portends
Desperately hiding
alone and distraught
For all of those presents
time wasted — and lost
(Dreamsleep: May, 2024)
This trail ends for timid souls,
we who fear where no one goes,
and ponder what might lay beyond
and what a sign like this portends,
yet, those before blazed through to here
or we'd not be...where this trail ends...
The Shadow hovers…
as I wake
from my sleep
Respreading its
shroud
from a future once bleak
Its darkness portends
what fear
seeks to end
All memory entombed,
as wishes
pretend
(Ashwood Manor: October, 2020)
Always in rhythm
quite often in rhyme
The verses hold constant
Lords over time
A perpetual beginning
the perpetual end
Their structure intones
—what the meaning portends
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
The morning quickly,
the afternoon slows,
the night stops...
The morning feeds,
the afternoon tasting,
the night licks...
The morning prepares,
the afternoon portends
the night falls asleep...
In life there are scenes
continuously staged... !
Upon the northern Flickers,
arrival each spring
With bright yellow feathers
while Buzzing Bees sing.
Yet it portends summer.
What will that bring?
And the whole cycle of life
Has been renewed again.
When the great northern Flickers,
arrive, in the splendor of spring.
some
look in
a mirror
see an unloved
child
some
like narcissus
stay in love
with a reflection
some
reflect
on life
and truth
it portends
some others
greet the
morning light
too many
others
cry at night
Clubbing seal cubs
portends a rage for mass murder.
The tail wags the dog
and the offended march away
to slaughter strangers.
Generation after generation,
year after year,
small holocausts
erupt at the strike of a matchstick.
Meanwhile bloody footprints
reshape a landscape.
Stars form patterns to Ancient's Zodiac.
Creatures emerge, especially the snake.
Mayan watchers see the serpent go back,
Back into the earth at Equinox break.
What portends, only prophesies can make.
Past the temple is Astronomer's dome.
There prophets see futures where the stars roam.
Life is frail
And death is rigid
Breaking a soul’s silence
Where crying shadows are frigid
Providence gathers
In the beating halls of hallow hearts
Eternity incensed
As flickering candles echo in the dark
Evil portends
When motherhood begins
Life blesses death
And holy fathers sterilize sin
Form:
am fed up with so much stuff
locusting in through my threshold
and causing be to see the ri, in beating the sielent majority
the sentence of sentience, last for a long long time
and this portends effective projection
o. group cohesion. oh, long term species survival
is belief in species, an original sin
A sword slices through empty space,
the air bleeding as sutures trace
To pierce not once but pierce again,
your breath scarlet, its stain portends
A breeze sharpens—all time erupts,
seasons hemorrhage and flow corrupt
The wind incited—torn by pain,
truth the loser, impaled again
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2019)
I welcome the consolations of October,
Sighs of the leaves floating gently down,
Breezes saying warm days may still come
Before the blowing cold of old November,
Portends the end of another good year.
Written October 31, 2022
Submitted to "Bite Size Poem No. 54" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
You’re supposed to know
the people you know,
and not the people you don’t
You’re supposed to feel
the things you can feel,
and not the things that you can’t
You’re supposed to be
what your nature portends,
and not what convention ascribes
You’re supposed to love
without borders or fear
—those moments forever alive
(The New Room: August, 2021)
In this autumn of our season how the gold and silver vie
in heart-warming brilliant colour, precious as the days gone by,
though our spring and summer's ended and we walk in given grace,
each seasons owns its treasure, and reveals its hidden place.
A sure and certain promise, dulls what wintertime portends,
There will be another season, and this one’s without end.
Patches on the quilt of life,
letters sew not rend
Memory darning time to time,
future warmth depends
Words left tattered, words that bind,
ragged breath portends
To stitch it once and have it last
—tomorrow on the mend
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2020)
Inspired By Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Ronnie Van Zant
“If It Ain’t Worth Remembering, It Ain’t No Good”
The rainy day turned sunny;
We spent it with some friends.
It's sometimes strange and funny
What the forecaster portends.
For we expected weather
Filled with cloudiness and wet
And though we'd be together,
We thought rain was what we'd get.
Instead the sky did brighten
As we moseyed through the day,
Where the sunshine helped to frighten
All those auguries away.
Silence speaks nothing it used to,
It is now well nigh dead,
You turn less sane,
And perhaps ultimately mad,
Quiet now chills the bones,
It portends ominous,
Singing dirge tones,
Hush now means sinister,
You do not know for sure,
What medicine others may administer,
Beware when you are talking alone,
that all round you may be hearing,
just to see you buried and gone.
Up or down
forward or back
Polarity ends
in a panic attack
Start, stop
the stillness portends
The middle a wasteland
lost years of pretend
Before or after
in front or behind
Timing entraps
with the devil’s design
Salvation, damnation
souls to contend
To live or to die
—to start or to end
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2018)