Short Recounting Poems
Short Recounting Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Recounting by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Recounting by length and keyword.
2 sweet cups of tea
Wash sad words
Remnants beyond
Ashtray holds
Metamorphosed memories
That are never forgotten
6 ears funnel and keep
The sounds that make
And keep us who we are
By recounting encounters
Lived and held close.
golf's nineteenth hole is damn fascinat'in
a watering hole so calibrat'in
recounting of the ground strokes
fun handling balls behind oaks
extra strokes make for success of dat'in
1.9.2020
Syllable count: 10,10,7,7,10 on PS counter
Long In The Tooth
By: Miracle Man
8/8/2019
I’m now eighty and considered “long in the tooth,”
And so, many former things, are now verboten.
Today, I rest, in the shadow of God’s truth,
Recounting life teachings that I’ve not forgotten.
his OCD merry-go-round
is noticeable all around
repeated behaviors over and over
tearing up dandelions and clover
polishing table twenty-three times
recounting once again his tin of dimes
repeated efforts are automatic
familiar patterns, nothing unexpected or sporadic
In the saloon a lone, haggard cowboy
Had more than double his fill, one last sip
An imagined past of unlawful joy
Recounting the times he shot from the hip
Barstools turn for a showdown, tables flip
Caught scheming. More than his pride will suffer
A double-dealing, lone cowboy bluffer.
Her eyes look like diamonds
against black holes in the sky--
I am recounting
my random decisions,
and... resting my mind.
I've reached the secret
in this
warm,
unlit
dreamscape.
Martyrs shine bright
in the milky moonlight...
as laughter's echo
rides off
on a
faraway breeze.
“Father Sun is continually rambling and by doing so defines the night.” ~ by poet
Rambling
cosmic thoughts of
Mother Moon, Father Sun,
many of which I pen to page
in recounting their passionate story.
Demonstrating his devotion,
Sun dies so Moon may rise.
He spends his nights
rambling.
He knew how to turn up the soil and seed,
Before the sun got hot by summer's glade;
And on his lips recounting roses creed
He gently viewed them as they swayed;
Together in a garden built of tweed
A bloom-vestige of grace, softly arrayed;
And as the gardener drank his amber tea,
he thought of roses and he thought of me.
Ever wondered how memories spring,
Or how a sad moment flips to the good side,
Days that seem boring and mundane,
Spurs life tracks that we look back and view.
Ever wondered if an embarrassing scene in the present,
Might be the cause of laughters in the future,
Sitting around in cozy circles,
While recounting tales of an adventurous past.
SPOKEN MOMENT
Thanks for your stories, my dearest
They are precious richest,
Resources of present pain
But tomorrow’s gain.
I cannot afford but yen
Upon to retell them
When your heart rates
Matches mines
As we breathe alive
With rhythm of sea awaken
In a recounting imagination
Of fair journeys
And calendared miseries
From daily bread
To ever said.
True
Golden
Is the light given to write
The words that lovingly depart
Gleaned from the collection of moments
Watching the dance of life on a limitless silent stage
While the multitude of days fold in-between
A ream of poems on blank paper sheets
Rehearsing years of storied elegies
That churn and spill upon a new
Light of understanding
Recounting hope
Enlightenment
Wisdom
Love
If these walls could talk,
they would have been willing to mock,
many masquerading pious liars,
who put a mask on their true desires.
If these walls could talk,
they would have given the world a shock,
by recounting many unimaginable tales,
that could make some go off the rails.
If these walls could talk,
they would have been willing to balk,
at using their delicate eyes,
to witness another lives of lies.
You never meant
a thing to me.
Why then, does
your memory berate
me?
I wish I
had amnesia,
for mementos
of the past,
love to ambush me.
They pick through
the rubble of my mind.
Recounting each and every
time we were together.
Making me hate myself
for ever loving you.
Why, oh why,
did we ever
have to meet?
Why did you leave me?
Why do I kid myself?
You meant everything
to me.
~*~ Two Doves ~*~
Perched atop a bird of paradise tree
Two doves sing merrily
Recounting every flight
And every plight they have ever endured
Never looking back on their sorrows
Soaring new heights tomorrow
Caught up in a most extravagant breeze
Atop a million trees
Two doves cuddling in their nest of eternal harmony!
Written by Gwendolen Rix
July 2014
Especially for Kevin and Rita
It's funny, the random things that remind you
of what a lovely place the world can sometimes be.
Like two little birds alighting on a wire,
as you emerge from the underground
just at dusk on a Thursday:
two weightless silhouettes,
suspended in the pre-star sky.
I wonder what journeys they've seen;
if they are recounting the day's adventures,
or merely resting in companionable silence
as the sun takes its final bow.
7/5 trochee
Patience needed, watch the scene.
nature’s curtains pull.
Terra’s headed straight between
Sol and Luna full.
Luna fades on scheduled track,
sudden redness brims.
Luna looks at Terra's black,
glowing halo rim.
written 4 April 2015
recounting the lunar eclipse which occurred
during Jewish Passover, this Saturday morning.
http://io9.com/how-to-watch-saturdays-total-solar-eclipse-the-shortes-1695284891
It may be affected by political acts.? Yet a
History of relevant fact, is what was done
Under the sun.' In recounting of its gristle
And bristles? Why are hackles raised.? Why
Are heckles made.? Why shout about odds.
If the numbers aren't stacked.'
Its what it is
Or is for some? That the rub.' If its not that
Malleble.? Then they show not love.'
Although in the halls of power, are virtues
Touted, in a ( broad aside ) they
are quite usually, and most wilfully flouted.'