Short Probate Poems

Short Probate Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Probate by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Probate by length and keyword.


The Wasteland

Inherited
 severance
The saddest
probate
A wasteland
of love
A garden
of hate

A dark
segregation
Divorced
in our bane  
To separately
 covet 
What little
— remains

(Dreamsleep: February, 2026)
Form: Rhyme


God Bless The Readers

I don’t wish
to be studied
just 
to be read

Where daydreams
long scripted
danced round
in my head

With words 
humbly gifted
each phrase
probate free

To those
in whose honor
my best
— I bequeath

(Dreamsleep: October, 2025)
Form: Rhyme

Last Chance

The interchange
of reluctance
waiting in the queue

Permission caught
in temporal probate
affirmation skewed

One last chance
unbegotten freedom
living in between

The will to choose
 nothing left to lose
— as red lights turn to green

(Dreamsleep: June, 2024)
Form: Rhyme

Probate

A cracked windowpane. A few daffodils peek their heads through the weeds that grow tall where flowers once smiled. Purple nettle chokes the life from any grass courageous enough to try to stand in its way. 

                                 Birds tweet their dismay
                               the feeders are all empty—
                                   No signs of life here
Form: Haibun

Tra

The Art of the spoken word
Is east
Jerusalem 
Ornate 
Probate of the money lenders 
Who tender purity and security 
For a price
Gods children are willing to pay 
Because they are the sheep
On which the idol's seek
Prohibition 
The body and the blood 
Never knowingly 
Roots are tales 
Into the afterlives 
Slave's integrate 
At the table of former master's 
Free at last 
Free at last 
If only my children could see me now
It would all be worth while 
My Child


Quest

I have opened the door of adventure,
A flood of emotion I'm assured.
Fear and grip in measures,
But I have chosen the hardest course,
To reach the glorious altar.
••••
Probate I treasured,
A policy of treason I shun.
Many times in my dreams,
The crusts itself,
Comes knocking,
But I've long lost the keys to my innermost fear.
••••
I have saddled my horse,
With whips across the valley's of grip.
With whims I trod the throne of thorns,
That loses their teeth against me.

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