Short Recyclable Poems
Short Recyclable Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Recyclable by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Recyclable by length and keyword.
My majority years have bolted
and this Mothers Day
Has left me to suppress thoughts,
from our past,
left curbside as rubbish;
That God never intended
to be recyclable;
Green is nature and growth
Green is moving forward
Green is conservation
Green is when you think wild
Green is recyclable
Green is love dipped in red
Green is a live color
I work for things deemed sensible
and avoid the junk dispensable
while seeking what's appreciable
to learn just what's achievable
while backwards reprehensible
where everything's disposable
and all that's left that's savable
is garbage that's recyclable
So say a prayer that's plausible
and hold mankind accountable
to keep your faith believable
that there's a God perceivable
The dog wore a rainbow bandana
A feral cat hissed at it
Birds bullied each other at the feeder
A hawk in the shadows
Rats scurried through the alleys
Of both the rich and poor
(garbage is garbage)
Children waited for the school bus
Breakfast waited for them
An old woman collected “recyclable” cans
(a homeless entrepreneur)
I wondered
“do politicians ever look out the window?
The lunchroom fart
of turbo pasta
scatters garlic teargas
laced with meaty mystery
without mercy to
flatten cubicles.
Chain-reactions
of Tupperware battles
erupt to devastate
once discerning pallets
until hobbled by stabs
of shrapnel to the gut,
prompting an exodus
of mournful bodies
propelled along that cloud
of processed misery
to wander, ashen-faced
along the concrete void.
We enter and exit
through the vision –
what we see, and
what we deny; never
knowing what is there;
nearsighted and a-far –
born unclear, our focus
a gradual ascent – eyes, not
a victory, but what they show
us of the world outside, unseen;
birth is a doorway ajar – the
vehicle, and not the journey;
the thrust, but not the fuel;
born to die so that we may
live...passing through and
beyond in recyclable
increments....
It is a plasmid wraith of thickened odors,
its organs, the sticky slops
of dead-end days.
It hungers for discarded dregs,
the dispensed with and disposed of
are its haunt,
scraps of yesterday trail behind it
as grey tentacles no longer able
to feel.
Soon the trashmen will
ambush the bins,
heave them into a reeking wagon,
yet it will return tomorrow
smelling worse,
for nothing absolves us
from its un-recyclable curse.
I placed it in the recycling bin
With the plastic, paper and glass
It just seemed wrong to put it along
With the rubbish inside of the trash
It was just used once by this pathetic dunce
Before getting broken and pulled loose
Now that its scrap I thought perhaps
It could be recycled for better use
The chasm it left inside of my chest
Forever will remain a void
For once it got torn I had solemnly sworn
Never again will my heart be toyed
Thoughts are Spiritual Substance –
part of living reality, but on a higher
plane of experience. We could not
think it, if it were not already a
spirit-arch-type, in the infinite mind of
God. Think it enough...and eventually
the thought becomes empirical, physical
manifestation – Cultivate, guard your
thoughts well...for they are tomorrow's
great scientific cures, or plagues of mass
destruction. We are born of star stuff,
quickly recyclable if an offended Universe.