Short Powders Poems
Short Powders Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Powders by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Powders by length and keyword.
Laundry, odor, stink
Parmesan cheese, fungus, dirt
Bleach, washing powders
(Let me Haiku you from a grandmother's point of view.)
Don't bring me chocolate
Bounty is given in a bouquet of flowers
Don't bring me fancy perfumes
Just a playful present, Windsong powders
The corrosion of Time
On your iron-wrought rhyme
Is the color or reddening must.
Though you write what you feel
It is iron or steel
Never gold, so it powders to dust.
The corrosion of Time
On your iron-wrought rhyme
Is the color or reddening must.
Though you write what you feel
It is iron or steel
Never gold, so it powders to dust.
I speak of cash crops, refined
apothecary powders (staples really) bought to
sate, to feed the scarred artery and the
diseased mind, the lover and the slave.
I speak of madness.
Form:
Baby feet smell like powders, lotions, and sweet, sweet, newness
They grow so fast, we harness the growth with shoes, to slow them
Yet they dance free of restraints, in the soft grassy backyards of spring
Sandra Hudson 1/27/2012
On your feet contest
by: nette oncloud
Worry and pain
Wind and rain
Masks and cleaners
A porch with boxes
Movies about dreamers
Still a natural anti-depressant
Above the juicer in the cabinet
Yes wine summons but more for the heart
Dark chocolate beckons
Powders, cookies and bars
And those luscious sprinkles from the stars
Imbued rose colors
of birth. Sky tinted billowed
petals, junked. Florid
gardens, immaculate.
Scents of citrus heavens. Bloodshot
tinctured cotton
colors. Rubicund
chalk crumbles, powders highlands
thrusting. An ingress
kerfs a hyloid
barrier. Cruer clots. Spook.
Cimmeran smudges.
She told me
about the wasting of days
and nights feeding lies to herself.
Powders like coffins
set end to end,
sucking broken bodies
up her nose.
That's what she told me.
But
she couldn't say why
live in a suffering death house
or send her mind
to a dead-end place,
why unravel the knitted
life of good things.
She never told me that.
pink flower power
down each green sleeve
my sweater for Valentines weather
each item was to die for
first the peachy concoction
bites of wrapped shrimp
the sizzling fajitas
O the stuffed churros
the sweetest, dusted with fine powders
of cinnamon sugar and dipped
in caramel, chocolate and whipped cream
now this was a scrumptious date
the anniversary of the day we met
46 years ago.
Pollen green 3 inches
Of allergen confection, powders outdoor landmarks.
A few ticks past dawn,
New birds, preflight,
Tune up their chirping chords,
Like nature's philharmonic, knowing the neighborhood
Is soon to enter their amphitheater, in, from their rooms of sleep.
Little lizards scurry, large clouds puff up and move through,
Steel blue, morning skies.
Sunshine coats deer and fox,
Chipmunk and squirrel,
And lovely life grooves
In time with God
Early each morn
before the dawn
she primps and prettifies
shadows her eyes
plucks her brows
then brushes them back
with a non-complementing
brutal shade of black
lipstick applies
rouges her cheeks
powders her nose
lacquers her hair
files then paints her nails
fingers and toes
pampers places
it never shows
and every night
washes it all away
only to do it
go through it
all over again
exactly the same
at sunrise
the very next day
Early each morn
before the dawn
she primps and prettifies
shadows her eyes
plucks her brows
then brushes them back
with a non-complementing
brutal shade of black
lipstick applies
rouges her cheeks
powders her nose
lacquers her hair
files then paints her nails
fingers and toes
pampers places
it never shows
and every night
washes it all away
only to do it
go through it
all over again
exactly the same
at sunrise
the very next day