Short Pretty Good Poems
Short Pretty Good Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Pretty Good by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Pretty Good by length and keyword.
I tripped the light pretty well,
but not as good as I should -
It should have been fantastic,
but it was only pretty good.
I wanted to take anti-depressant
By mistake I took anti-perspirant.
Sadly, I'm not in a cheerful mood,
But, I'm smelling pretty good!
If your a little shy but you’d like to tell someone what’s in your heart…
A pencil and a piece of paper…is a pretty good place to start.
Not everyone was brought here on purpose
In fact, I’m sure a lot of us were accidents
And if you ask me
We are all some pretty good mistakes
Form:
green is a color,
and pretty good teller,
it tells more than hides,
it gets people on their strides,
signals all clear,
go ahead without fear.
There once was a barista named Joe
the joke always tiresome and so-so
he swallowed it well
because tips were swell
so he put on a pretty good show
Direct immediacy..
Seems to be
A pretty good map
To find This..
Time is shattered
Space explodes to
A vast unknown..
Hold on..
Are we there yet..?
Our Golden Annie can smell bread
From the other end of the house it spreads
“Uncanny Annie”
Star of our family
Comes bounding in she's got pretty good treads
Jolly Ollie, the tiddledy winks king
Jolly Ollie really mastered that thing
He's amazing to human dragon and elf
He even impressed the Pope
Who's a pretty good winker himself.
I wish you
Crackdown.
No more
Safe haven
For you.
The ball is
Now at you.
Tell openly
You want
Terror
Or talk!
Nothing is
Pretty good.
Crackdown
I wish you.
A chagrined clown hung his head in shame
for the disgrace of what he became,
when an opportune slip of the heel,
on a discarded banana peel,
got a pretty good laugh just the same.
In spite of a long history as a gunfighter
From my early days as a wild west sniper
Turned out pretty good
Wouldn't change if I could
Turned out to be a smashing good limerick writer
The special Mexican-American Japanese Wasabi chef
“It’s my first day on the job
pretty good for a first time, eh?”
…
“Well, not really his first day”
Hah! He had us all fooled!
He deserves a big tip!
I'm way down the track, over eighty by golly
But my choo-choo has yet to run off the trolley
Still eat by myself
I'm in pretty good health
Still charm the pants off some cute young dollies
I'm way down the track, eighty-five by golly
But my choo-choo has yet to run off the trolley
Still eat by myself
I'm in pretty good health
Still charm the pants off some cute young dollies
Feeling pretty good today, things are settling down
This calls for a celebration, perhaps a night on the town
Load up on the booze
As the good times ooze
And as per usual, play the part of a clown
The stiff neck from counterfeit blues…
I read about that in the news.
A guy from Sao Paulo
said he too can’t swallow,
but feels pretty good when he chews.
----------
Response to John Read's Deflated
I'm way down the track, almost eighty by golly
But my choo-choo hasn't yet run off the trolley
Still eat by myself
I'm in pretty good health
Still charm the pants off some cute young dollies
© Jack Ellison 2015
*This poem was written when I was seven years old... pretty good for a seven year old, eh?
Beyond the Earth's crust
lies what all desire always.
I'll do what it takes.
Reach doesn't matter.
As I long as I can possess
the key to the box.
Nappy time is fast approaching, hit my head on the keyboard
That should be a pretty good sign it's perhaps time to snore
When we reach a hundred
Just stay all day in bed
Waste of time getting up and cranking up the old Ford
Time to pen a poem
before I go to sleep
a line or two to make 'em laugh
though some may choose to weep
So, how's your day, anyway?
Pretty good, I heard you say
How was mine? Just Y-A-W-W-W-N, fine
~ stumbling 'cross the finish line
There are two soldiers inside of me.
Fighting a battle I can plainly see.
One is very bad,
and that makes me sad.
One is pretty good,
and does as it should.
Who will win we will see,
For that battle is going on constantly.
Edward J. Ebbs - December 01, 2002
I was not alive in 1910
yet things were pretty good
No sleepless nights or stomach aches
always understood
In the quiet calm a promise lay
a portent yet to come
And born I was despite myself
—now eighty years undone
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 1991)
James was pretty good at his job
Left- handed nonetheless
Most thought it was not music
The kids just could not care less.
The feedback always washed him clean
The crowds breathed purple haze.
At 27, he died on Paisley satin sheen
Too much talent, he just ran out of days.
My life is over
My time has come
And I’ve had a pretty good run
With no expectation of reincarnation
Heavenly bliss or eternal damnation
I leave the world with no regrets
Perfectly willing to take all bets
With no crying or hysterical laughter
Certain there is no Ever After