Short Puddled Poems
Short Puddled Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Puddled by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Puddled by length and keyword.
grey skies drop gruel
shoppers shelter in the shires
drinking weather, spoons
whatever, raining, trowbridge
pea soup puddled county town
by gail
On man-made wings, the thrill of flight,
when a window seat was youth's delight.
Now, high in sky, I’m puddled in dread.
With feet firm on the ground, I tread.
For Sara's Two Lenses Contest, 2/22/16
WANDERER
There comes a day when
Those weather clouds damp
With dusk setting in,
When the puddled dirt road
With hesitant drizzle,
When the weed-filled ditch,
Look the same;
But feel like home again.
CITY PUDDLES
Calm
ripples
awaiting
sunset lover’s
reflection on a puddled city street
John G. Lawless
12/7/2015
submitted to – Language of Water – Poetry Contest
sponsor – nette onclaud
Yard Work
Written: by Miracle Man
5/13/2024
The morning has started with a drizzle falling,
my name, the tall grass, seems to be calling.
But a puddled yard,
makes mowing hard,
and daily rains have made mowing appalling.
(a 7-5 Trochee)
Snow falls down; then comes the rain.
Wet flakes fall and drown
when that rain, like a refrain
once again comes down.
Then I step onto the street.
There's no snow to crush.
Mere shoes don't protect one's feet
from cold puddled slush!
For the "The Doesn't fit" Poetry Contest of Carol Eastman
“If you give me rice, I’ll eat today; if you teach me how to grow rice, I’ll eat every day.”
- Quote by Mahatma Gandhi
------------------------------------------------
sprouted, sowed, dressed, transplanted
soil rich, fertile, warm
puddled field, drained well, weeded
panicle to grains
gently harvested
life staple
food
It's snowing again by gumm.
Thought we had Jack Frost on the run.
It keeps melting and freezing,
I'm coughing and sneezing,
Early Spring in the North sure ain't fun.
The snow is a wet, sloppy mess,
And it puts my good humor to test.
When I go for a walk,
On the puddled sidewalk,
And slip down on the ice I ain't blessed.
3/2/2021
The lighting, it was over bright
Revealing dark red blood puddled
She lay slumped, her soul in flight
The lighting, it was over bright
Exposing a play she did write
Letters of a name befuddled
The lighting, it was over bright
Revealing dark red blood puddled
Written: Friday, June 24, 2016
Inspired by Julia Ward's contest First Line Prompt-2
Listen to poem:
Adrift in dreams while romance reading
Asleep e're night shadows began creeping
She lay puddled in moonlight's rising tide—
Jane Austen's 'Pride and Prejudice' at her side
In reverie, Elizabeth stood on the misty moor
for what seemed to her a lifetime of waiting
Held her breath when in front of her he stood
Sighing as Darcy brushed a gentle kiss on her lips
I swung my mini fridge door wide
Revealing tiny porridge pops and coke
They puddled the shelfs dripping down,
Sticky little oats and fructose
The mess muddied my socks
Soaking my bow and sole
Like a beach of sweaty skittles
Carried by the melting rocks
I raised my knee to my shoulder
To watch sludge fall and splat
Ingraining my mess in the carpet
Compelling my toes to stretch
The sky unwraps a silver veil,
Each drop a hymn, so soft, so pale,
As rain begins its tender play.
It drapes the earth in crystal lace,
With every bead, a sweet embrace,
A gentle calm on Christmas Day.
The lights reflect in puddled grace,
Like stars descended, face to face,
In every splash, a dream will stay.
Oh, how I love the rain's refrain,
Its hush more pure than caroled strain,
A holy hush where hearts can pray.
Old Girl Down
One step after another took the old girl down
Rain, asphalt black answered back
Cold shoes, wet feet, puddled deep
Overhead dark clouds settle in
The forecast called for more of the same
Women and fossils should not be out in this
Sounds splash hard off echoed solid streets
Gray tall buildings went by one after another
When will it end when there is no end in sight
One step after another took the old girl down
One cold winter day, I formed a great big snowball
as big as it could be with my tiny hands.
I pressed it very tightly, mittens on!
Proud I was of it. It looked so grand!
Home I went to store my snowball
in the freezer. My brother,
befuddled, took it out.
It melted so small
as it lay there
on the floor -
puddled!
April 16, 2018
For the Contest of Line Gauthier
A Melting Snowball poem -decreasing line by line in syllable count from 12 to 2.