Short Rapier Poems
Short Rapier Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Rapier by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Rapier by length and keyword.
Your words,
a rapier through my heart.
I bleed
from a wounded soul.
My tears,
a salty river.
Trust is a past, not present, concept.
I am no longer me.
Your words
have forever changed me.
featureless blur
sharp rapier claws
fend a black featureless blur...
death is no lap cat
(haiku)
04/07/2022
Black Cat Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Rapier
slender,
steely, swiftly
plunged deeply
where no one had touched, to its hilt you thrust,
embedded...
and then,
silently,
without a whisper,
finishing the deed,
withdrew the dripping blade
And left me to hemorrhage
our tourniquet friends to mend
A predator's rapier claws;
keeps my cat in good health.
Midnight black, she blends with shadows
and stalks her prey with stealth.
Pouncing at nearly lightning speed,
she's a featureless blur.
And yet, when cuddled in my lap;
Death wears the softest fur.
Oh~ Rapier, my holy divine
Please tell me when will you be mine
I can't wait much long, my divine
For the scourge looms if you're not mine
Oh~ Rapier, shining in the night
Please be mine, even for tonight
Let me wield your radiant might
And as dark flees light, scourge will flight
I can be soft and gentle,
Or harsh and crude,
Charismatically diplomatic,
Or impersonal and rude,
I can be kind and giving,
And selfishly living,
I can console with sincere empathy,
Or dismissive with rapier cruelty,
If I could harmonize these bitonal character traits,
Life would be,
A fabulously elegant,
Emotional symphony.
Short
Haiku hiatus
Powerful and wonderful
A waffle-free zone
And
Three lines together
So observations recorded
Synergistic sum
Sharp
A needle sows scene
A razor shaves the landscape
Rapier round-up
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Haiku set written 20 February 2022
(checked with poetry soup syllable counter)
Upon the waking hours of each tomorrow
The sun bequeaths its lovely rays to the earth
Highlighting us in spirit, warmth and inspiration
With new day’s dreams and new chances for rebirth
The grey and dampened clouds become defeated
As the sun’s rapier sharp rays force on through
To reach the very earth, providing heated splendor
And to brighten everything in life and all we do
URBANE DISDAIN
Rapier wit, persiflage and banter
In repartee, an eloquent out-flanker
Faced with insult, virulence and rancour
His response could not be ‘insoucianter’
When attacked or critiqued
He will not be piqued
Smooth as whisky antique:
These - his words cool and sleek
“You’ve a face like a snapper,
Your sister’s a slapper,
Your mother is built like a tanker”
.
I strive to smelt my feelings in a crucible of art,
I plunge them into tears until the hissing starts;
And after they are cooling, then I hammer them with zeal:
A rapier forged of supple, double-edged poetic steel.
I lunge it at my enemies imagined…usually,
Or raise it in salute to valiant friends, so loyally,
Or turn the weapon on myself, then finally
To stab my pretenses, skewered with “Why me?”
Drag me headfirst facing the red lights,
Throw stones that turn to gold dust,
Cruise through a pile of crumbling structures.
The buildings of the past.
Critics drawing out rapier blades,
Their swords casted in flames,
On wheels we swerve the pathway,
Just three junctions away.
A pocket full of sad villains,
A swig of wine to another high,
Standing tall on this grey horizon,
Searching for a new paradise.
How lucky a penny would prove
Where simple beauty and comfortable elegance laid across the table
Searching for the right combinations the conversation became fluid
Rapier wit and a definitive style attracted individual attention
As time forced its way through, the room became smaller
The game such as it was, now but a mere distraction
The crossroads approaching a separation of spirit; a return to self
Alas, a smile, a farewell
A pleasure
Captain Quark to Mr. Sprock;
Ground control to Major Tom,
Your phaser is unphased,
Now if that doesn't phase you,
I'd be quite amazed.
You can't stun with a dead gun,
You couldn't even phase,
a jar of Mayonaisse
Klingons you can't haze,
With a still-born phase,
The instruction manual says,
You'll likely be dead in 2 days.
And the Romulans, for sure,
Will be knocking on your door
So beam me up, Scotty toilet paper,
And get me a working rapier.
She has a fever.
I leave her dozing fitfully on the veranda.
Halfway to the woods there is a farm gate
where she will often squat
and piss.
The grass is brown, but still thrives,
strangely adapted to uric rain.
Paris the giant poodle is here,
his nose a rapier seeking past and present.
Several dogs from good families arrive
to vie with each other
in search of her ‘wherefore art thou?’
Tragically, Romeo (a bulldog neutered last week),
today plays alone
with his squeaky bone.