Short Retrieval Poems

Short Retrieval Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Retrieval by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Retrieval by length and keyword.


Her Love Touch Embrace and Kiss

transcendental energy of bliss
altered state of consciousness
her love
divination and healing
her touch
rite of passage of the 
wounded healer
her embrace
retrieval of the lost soul
her kiss

11.05 am
july 19 2016
Form:


The Beat Witch

Shadow these dreams, hear your screams.
You play the fool in this sad ballet.
Harbor your evil, darkness retrieval.
Only you know how to betray.
Smirk at the ground, cause your unsound.
Waste all your energy, for nothing good.
© Tara Shaw  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

Premium Member Death By Dynamite

Here lie the few remains of John M. Kyte He lit a cigarette with a stick of dynamite [His body was blown to smithereens] Parts of him were scattered over the county For which retrieval insured a hefty bounty.
Written November 29, 2022
Form: Epitaph

Premium Member Father and AI Son

Can it be beyond, insane
when a brain begets a brain,
putting it in competition
with its own junior edition?
Proud of tot's data retrieval,
will he mimic papa's evil,
wishing not for an embrace,
but ever scheming to replace?
I'm rife with distress and bother -
will the son turn on the father?
Form: Rhyme

Lost Generation

Smoke surrounding
Air attacks
On standby
Drop the sack
We'll blow
It up

Dazed wandering
Just try to
Direct our
Direction of
Confusion
In our haven

High pondering
Perception of
Reality's gone
To the way side
But did we ever
Care

Smoke abomination
Retrieval of lost
Incarnation
To the masses
We are the
Lost generation
Form:


Who

Red is the color of life
He hung his head 
The blood ran red
Yes red is the color of life
Having not the shed blood 
How could we keep going on
The example was set 
Torture and torment
Beat bloody he was
Keep the victory alive
Believe there is a eternal mine
He will never come to do it again
We must carry the thought content
He is light and dark 
Good and evil
Balance to keep the retrieval

Burning Fire

Memories are my wider thoughts
Peeping past my widowed weathers
Checking onto my lighted dreams 
Gaping for my reckless tiers
Born with a curse to forget my dreams
To get diverted and to along the flow
To wave a signing off to my goal
To shake my hands with the world's filthy truths 
Silence is my retrieval to the never-ending 
Pain of my broken wings but nothing 
Can break me that I am a born fire

Deception

I am giving you up
for a delusion-
of being watched all the time.
The retrieval of a poem
must start now.

A mannequin was defiled at dawn.
The puppets on a string 
were dancing whole night-
for a born loser.
A lemon without an escort
has become a tree.

A living corpse, after
the acid attack. Give me some
water to wet the lips. I am
going to confess all the
sins of a weak man.

Let there be a face-off
between a river and a bridge.


Satish Verma
art
Form: ABC

Premium Member A WOODY PREDICAMENT'S RETRIEVAL

A WOODY PREDICAMENT'S RETRIEVAL

Here stumped in the forest of life:
Where would we be without trees
And their sage planking of life?
Would, if I could, say where;
But I’m here, lost in the woods!
May the rod and staff of faith
Navigate me in liberty’s grace
In the coming branching of the 
Spring of the treeing of my life;
Healing fruits of peace, love, and joy,
Bringing proverbial holly jolly retrieval:
“I once was lost, but now, I’m found:-”

Transformers

In a world, not that off our own
The Autobots and Decepticons roam

Advanced engineering and developed mechanics
Soon to appear on our Planet

Unexpected events, an explorers Surprise
To uncover such a momentous prize

In the hands of mankind, a secret so dark
A retrieval mission, In which the Transformes embark

Beneath the ground, a Hidden location
Humans blinded by the fascination

Soon to commence a battle so great
To which war and destruction awaits
Form: Rhyme

Beyond Memory

Memory plays ‘hide-and-seek’.
Mind is a sorry seeker in this game.
A doctor prescribes to cure ‘the void’.
It’s a learned hypocrisy.

Words clash one another on Mrs.Pathu’s
tongue and fall down meaninglessly.
Infancy is reborn in the wet
shade of her Alzheimer’s.

Memory sets in her present
and rises in her past.
Intermittently falling beams
glare in her eyes.

She bobs up and down like the jetsam 
on the waves.
Now, life announces
its retrieval in doleful tones.

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