Short Porthole Poems
Short Porthole Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Porthole by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Porthole by length and keyword.
A porthole in the clouds
With the sun shinning through
Could today be day world sees
Something in clouds anew
whirling colors of the cosmos
a new window opens up
azure porthole promising a new world
I gasp at her surrounding oranges
my favorite colors
my
keyhole
gaze outside
the visions of
light push aside a collage of my dreams
day’s calling illusions of realities
reflections of
passing sun
seeking
night
prompt 1
Twilight is near
Come here, dear_touch
Feel tear that flows
Forgive, expose
Sin; propose faith
Disclose_forgive
Repair this soul
Sheol free me
Porthole open__
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Contest: **Than-Bauk A Twilight
Written by :Sara Kendrick
Airy cistern reserves now spent
Each billowing mast folds its tent
Helios hurls his flaming trident
Through singed porthole flittering glint
Fiery sparks stream through each stent
Refracted waves in mercurial columns bent
Misty water colors shroud each gilded vent
Burnt orange truffles, golden ridges resplendent
toroidal heart
confers with crown
taking our third eye along
soles of feet and burning palms
await moment of reckoning
yet without so seeking
bindu as the source
opens a hidden porthole
allowing consciousness to bilocate
each centre thus complete in itself
hums a sublime ethereal note
whispered to us alone
02-June-2023
Get the balance right
In space
Where zero gravity drains your limbs
Of strength
Circumnavigating the earth
The place of your birth
You miss through misty porthole
Contemplating the glaring shortfall
All we ever wanted
All we ever needed
Is in the power of our hands
We can only do harm
And are oblivious to the deafening
Sound of the Alarm
.
noth'n sounds more sweeter
than
the jamaican windz help'n
the salty wet slap 'gainst mine
cabin's porthole
her'z
arrrr
tresses flap'n 'gainst me face
her vocalz
just the slight
mine hear
hey
she be
yar
Lightly flutter snowflakes
as on the breeze they go,
these butterflies of snow.
Spiderwebs the frost makes
when the pewter day breaks
to snare them as they blow.
This window the webs ring
the porthole in the frost
on which the flecks are tossed
is tatted like the wings
of earwigs in the spring.
The glass becomes embossed
with ornaments of ice
and blooms of edelweiss.
Beneath the stone
Clasping flowers
Wilted Decay
Tomb encased
Dirt porthole
Release my soul
From this host
With which I lay
Subdued by this
Path of time
Pure
Cleansed
Soul
Eternal light
Burden shoulders
Replaced
With wings
I take flight
Death
Revealed
Illusion
Bury me
Into the darkness
Bury me
Into the light
Bury me
The beginning
Of my eternal
Life….
Naïveté
It is cold; sea spray painted the ship white,
light green is the Nordic water
a mighty cocktail of clinking ice cubes.
I scratch a happy face on thick glass on
The porthole, we will dock at a place
where warm people sits around a fire and
give a damn about sailor’s miserable life.
Seascape paintings hang on gilded walls;
look at that sea, so verdant, delicate brush
strokes too; the artist died at a mad house.
a shadow man,
lurking in the shadows of her soul,
he is always there, wherever she goes,
she fears him,
for in the darkness of night,
he will come to her room,
his hand reaching from beneath her bed,
drag her by the ankle to a porthole in the floor,
no-one can hear her kicking and screaming with fear,
then suddenly it stops,
she is too afraid to fall asleep again,
she watches the time ticking until sunrise when she feels safe,
then falls asleep.
The simple life
It is cold;
sea spray paint the ship white,
light green
is the Nordic water,
a mighty cocktail
of clinking ice cubes.
I scratch a happy face
on the thick glass of
the porthole.
We will dock in a town
that have warm rooms
people sit around a fire
give a damn about sailor’s
miserable life.
Seascape paintings hangs
on gilded walls;
look at that sea,
so verdant,
delicate brush strokes;
the artist died at a mad house.
Gone Ashore Sonnet
I have sailed on many seas
they have various colours and smell,
but being indoors looking out
it got a bit boring as well.
One can’t stand by a porthole all day,
water stretching wet and endlessly
I knew I was never going to see
green grass again.
From a mountain, I can see the sea
but never go near the bloody thing
I swim in a river when it is hot.
Sea, shrieking gulls and rusty steel,
I prefer the forest and
the valley that has an unblinking eye.