Short Portico Poems
Short Portico Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Portico by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Portico by length and keyword.
In summer, sluggish sense of sloth he gets,
lazy time passes him by, he forgets.
In hot kitchen he doesn’t go,
keeps whipped eggs on portico.
He snoozes in shade, sun cooks omelets.
In summer, sluggish sense of sloth he gets,
stops the lazy time, for clock’s hands he sets.
In hot kitchen he doesn’t go,
keeps whipped eggs on portico.
He snoozes in shade, sun cooks omelets.
In summer, listless feel of sloth he gets,
stops the sluggish time, the clock hands he sets.
In hot kitchen he doesn’t go,
keeps whipped eggs on portico.
He snoozes in shade, sun cooks omelettes.
My Persona
Today I built myself a Persona,
My Identity has become a façade,
I thought it was time I had one,
Concealment shouldn’t be too hard.
It’s a kind of portico, facia or frontage,
A cover-up or clever disguise.
Smoke screened by veneered pretence,
You won’t see what’s in front of your eyes.
A bout of sloth in summer this man gets,
time on lazy clock inert mind forgets.
In the kitchen he doesn’t go,
keeps whipped eggs on portico,
while he dozes sun flame makes omelettes.
June 8, 2020
Syllable count : 10/10/7/7/10
Checked on howmanysyllables.com
Contest : Summer Laziness
Sponsor : Mohan Chutani
Elegant portico columns, fireplace frame
Fronting tasteful, demure white walls
Rich browns -- pianoforte, armchair
Muted ostentation, classicism bespoken --
the eye startled, struck
by the clear glass vase
on the mantel
stems ascending
to bold-green leaves
slightly upturned
as are firm, youthful breasts
topped by brilliant bursts
of pink-streaked flowers
panorama
Spring's veranda calls to me, come enjoy peace
Out on the porch I commune with sweet nature
A sacred place of quietude and release
Where seasons come then go with air sweet and pure
And the view causes my stress to slowly cease
Out on this portico, though a humble lure
Angels and the Holy Spirit reach down, touch
My soul mends at this place, my steady, strong crutch
The old dilapidated manaion
deep in the wood
sometimes would call me
in my lone hours.
When weather smiled
I wandered near;
it's silent portico
drew me close and I, resting
upon its crumbling stair,
would dream of its days
once bright and fair.
How grand
it might stood in ages past -
it's fleeting charm
non could last .
And in those times
I might not stand
within the reach
of its proud land .
the wind rages
waves are high and ferocious
they pound the shore relentlessly
I stand on the portico as the wind whips my hair
and I zip my jacket higher against the chill
the moon hides as does the stars
all ocean life swimming in deeper fathoms
tomorrow the sun will shine
the sand will be swept clean
nothing of the storm will remain
nor will thoughts of you
that I cast into the wind
now completely blown away