Short Remainder Poems
Short Remainder Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Remainder by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Remainder by length and keyword.
Strip down from skin, flesh to bone,
From poverty, wealth and fame
then you’ll see the remainder of difference is all very much the same.
1997
I could say I love you
A thousand different ways
I wish to say I love you
for the remainder of my days
I will continue to say I love you
As I have from the very start
I love you from the deepest part of my heart
The couch grass has withered
for winters change
I make no apology
Milkwood so loftily summoned
As I venture forth
A prompt remainder
into the celestial wilderness
Time is running out
The lunar moon indicates
Even the sky can be shrouded
through the thin line
Sweet Older Woman
You should be a star
Applauding the apex
Daddy told me
to find a good woman
The remainder of beauty
images pour forth
Wisdom and a every day mentor
Shine those eyes
Exhale your knowledge
Hands on your hips
Surveying the World
you should command
triplet bear cubs are enjoying the remainder of the old hollow stump.
they’re hanging off pieces of her, one has fallen down on his soft rump.
mama is patient, but daddy bear might have turned into a grump.
You are on mama’s last nerve said the loudest one, a two-year-old chump.
If doc. know-it-all, slaps you with incurable
ask for his credentials
even if you think they're legit
ask yourself for a second opinion
then just go on living
burn time down to embers.
Pack the remainder of your life onto a pinhead.
Just like you should have from the beginning.
Each person will face a sunset in life,
A gander hinder reveals pain and strife.
Though I cannot change, much I will forget,
as for the remainder, some, I’ll regret.
Regret pilfers my thoughts, and does frustrate,
Regret is always felt, once it’s too late.
Work, learn, needs,
Pushing wants away, first glance,
Never easy,
Eyes click, in focus
Understood to a point, where there’s no turning back.
Spark the fire, for the remainder,
Burning down a bridge they say,
Only takes one person,
One dreamer,
To see the vision,
Stick to the vision,
And become the vision.
Wettened by the mornings dew
Closely spaced where rows of roses grew
Footprints stained the cobblestone
Where my love and I had walked, alone
—Charles Messina
Roses pink as my love’s lips
The remainder of the day predicts
Scented overtones of life
Blue moon will ask Claire to be my wife
were spiders reach the lonesome dust,
here endures a jar robust.
it bares no needles, nails or rust,
but the object all should trust.
it knows no hate, greed or lust,
without it, all is lost...
a white-coat appears and take the heart,
his last remainder to be taken apart.
Today I’m told to love you,
Told to tell the world I love you...
As if I could forget that truth
For the remainder of the year.
The irony is that, if I knew nothing else,
Forgot all else,
Your love would never leave my mind.
It took a day to see you, Love,
It took a day to learn your love,
But one will never be enough
To tell you just how much I love.
Waiting for love I pray,
Each and every single day
The time stands still,
While pressing my will
I want to give it one more try,
To find a love that won't ever die
One that is really truly,
And also will complete me,
Wanting it all the more may,
Hopefully bring it to me one way
I need it to be for always,
And to last the remainder of my days
Sweetness clings to tea spoons,
amber heaven gleaming in
the early morning light.
It hangs, reluctant to depart,
then flows slowly down
toward my brewed fortification.
The load delivered, a thin remainder
tempts me, and I plunge it
into my mouth.
Thoughts of you flood my mind
as concentrated joy explodes,
leaving me with sticky lips
and a smile.
So come to my heart
Do so in part
Help me to start
These flames of passion
Perish the thought
Of your freedoms stalked
My advances booked bought
Riddled and balk
Release the signs
Consider me be mine
Alas just us for remainder of time
Help me to start
These flames of compassions heart
9/19/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
All Time Is Of God
Written: by Miracle Man
4/6/2023
On days when nothing seems pressing inside of me,
I consider that day’s time as just being free.
Later, at day’s end, I ponder where this time went,
had it become wasted or was it time well spent.
Sometimes I view myself as being a time slave,
and unknown, the remainder, twixt me and the grave.
For sale a bunch of fine unused words, many misspelled
Poet can’t uses them; mind is on strike, the pen has been stilled
These words never used for they never quite seemed to fit
Got them online; advertisement said they were a complete poetry kit
Can’t send them back because I did use a few; the remainder unused
Selling at half price; many are funny words which will leave you amused
Assignment: 25,000 dollars to help a needy family
There is such a place that is for sale for twelve thousand dollars
I would do some minor renovations for seven thousand
Turn on the utilities one thousand dollars
Stock the shelves with groceries six hundred dollars
Window treatments four hundred dollars
The remainder would go to buy a car or pay utilities
For Carol's contest
I fear Judgment Day.
The day my family and friends
Hear me say that I am bi.
The remainder of my life depends
On how they react to that statement.
Will I leave me family
And find new friends?
Or will they
Accept me for who I am?
I fear Judgment Day.
The day everyone sees the real me.
When I come into the open
And everyone can see
The thing I have hidden my life long.
This body of bones
The flesh
The wet cells
It disappears in the mirror
Until there's just a grey impression
A remainder of vapour
It doesn't exist
What im touching is not there
The real just Unreality
Why did I ever believe
The body was there, was me
Can't you see..it's nothing
A ghost of what had been
A dream awoken
The truth dissolved
Touch the ether
Fingers grasping for a hold
But there is none
Father I ask you to use me
As a tool, an instrument, or a link
So I may write your precious words
Or to move the pen with the remainder of the ink.
A phrase, a paragraph, or a line
Will often come into my mind
And the urge to write it down at once,
Will often become the first of many lines.
I may find a title
In the last verse that is read
Or it may be the first one
Like this one instead.
Brenda Elizabeth Rose
29.05.2008
I refuse to be called a remainder
Back from a world that never was.
I despise the cold noble museums
And perfectly locked iron doors.
For the sake of the One who I doubt
Ever took any interest in me -
Those perfectly locked iron doors
Put us all back in captivity!
You persuade me to stay and to trust
That your only goal is memory,
But if you want living remembrance
Open that door
And please -
Set me free.
For everything you do,
For all you have done,
For always being you,
For a day full of fun,
For being forthright,
For trusting me to do the same,
For saying it was alright,
For when I was to blame,
For all your wisdom,
For all you did bestow,
For the things yet to come,
For what keeps me aglow,
For the remainder of life’s seasons,
For everything left to explore,
For all these reasons,
For so much more,
I have and always will love you!
Driver drove down dark dewy dirt road,
Despite the deer crossing sign displayed.
Drowning donuts in coffee,driving deliriously.
Dog Daisy, in the rear is demanding dog food.
Driver doesn't decide to give into demands.
Drool dropped on the back seat, disinfectant was,
desired on designer dodge seat, a real disaster.
Disappointment, dismay and disapproval loomed
on the remainder of the dreary despicable trip.
12-10-2020
Listen to poem:
Who are these folks we call people?
For want of names drawn from hat
or drawn from lucky dip in remainder bin.
A set of folk not friend nor foe
but unknown masses anointed as anonymous.
Prescribed to be, what we want them, to be
just people, other people, strangers.
We can call them what we like.
We can say what we like about them
good or bad, happy or sad.
Our gumption in presumption
is patronising to people,
just people.
My frog calmly has his orange pekoe tea said Stew.
Remainder of the pot is sitting right next to him too.
Will he share with me? No. But he might share with you.
He is pouting today because I hid his hat and his shoe.
Sitting beside a tiny brook, that makes his life complete
He eats tidily, even his flies are bite sized, totally neat.
I know he has specialized crackers that are spiced with sweet.
If you ask politely, he may give you part of his treat.