Short Ridged Poems
Short Ridged Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Ridged by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Ridged by length and keyword.
black coal soft
not rough rigid
but coal soft
not a stocking filled with coal
but a fluffy cat coal soft
With a rough ridged motor
from the cloud's
white hair
beard hangs
ice
fridged
ridged
from
delight
from snow
to rain
with warmth
comes
cliché
tears of joy
and a storm
of passion
Form:
To Be Rigid and Firm
Stonewall should be ridged and firm;
Not allow things to wiggle or squirm;
Did predict,
Will restrict,
Advance of whale which is a sperm.
Jim Horn
God Break Me from My Ridgid Stance
God break me from my ridged stance;
Chance allowing me to escape trance,
I had been in,
Again and again,
And enlightened when You enhance.
Jim Horn
Ridged peaks, rolling foothills
reach over our region,
rest under snow blankets,
recover from roiling,
raging summer wildfires.
Reeling smoke will only
return with a vengeance.
Pleiades R contest
Sponsor: Kim Merryman
I am scared
That when you take my heart in your hands
That you will feel the calloused flesh
and the deep ridged scars
Every time without fail I will tear my heart from my chest
to present it to you
And each time I think you will be repulsed by the state of it
Infancy leads to decline
Teeth twixt extremes
Independence grows
Ends in dependence
Hair sparse and grey
Nails curved and ridged
Skin wrinkled, loose
Muscles wasted
Bathing, a project
Diet, soft, pureed
Normal sight, hardly
Wits about, barely
Taste no more
Hear less
Tiring easily
Wanting less
Will the little people in the wall paper have to watch you die?
The very thought of it makes me want to cry.
Will their little bodies stiff and Ridged have to watch yours go Frigged?
For the know your darkest moment better than I.
They watched you sit and ponder "why?"
You see these little people they aren't real.
But they are the only ones who see how you really feel.
Form:
LAMENTING HARMS
I am passionate in regardless requiem
I dress ridged and deploring
I need shed tears for my sorrow I bewail and bemoan
I am related to elegy
I vacation at the cemetery
My job is lamentation writing up funeral chant a burial hymn
I desire to sing at my passing in heaven
11/26/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
LAMENT POETRY FORM
Crystal sands,
eager fingers digging,
bounty from the shoreline carry home.
On display,
gracing my windowsills,
dancing 'round with the sun's reflection.
Exquisite,
ridged in sea tones and hues,
every nuance bears the froth of tides.
Memories;
each one tells a story
of adventure sought,of life and love.
By Deb Wilson
for Nette Onclaud's contest "Paralellogram de Crystaline"
the dam has shattered
the crimson river has begun to flow
once again
no stopping it this time around
the dam can't be rebuilt
the waterfall will continue on
draining into a pond
turning into a lake
into an ocean
faster every second
the crimson river has begun to flow
no stopping it now
does it even want to stop
continues down a path
of no return
splashin harder against the ridged rocks
the crimson river has begun to flow
Form:
I’m passively watching
everything slip from my once ridged death grip.
Maybe I’ll be happier this way.
Maybe my writing will become so much more profound.
Something more than diary entries from a distraught narrator.
I’ll rewrap myself into something much more inviting and thrilling.
Only writing of my hopes and dreams
I’ll sugar coat it all
Like a cup of bitter burnt coffee,
I’ll only be palatable
if I change something major about me.
I refuse to spend
our last minute in grief
so,
(to remove this other visage
threatening a takeover)
I transpose over it
your face
with that gentle smile
holding in contemplation,
a curious child, me
your face
once ridged in sadness
with an agony
we carried together,
and now
as my face burns
with a heart arched
in sorrow,
in the knowing yours
now rests on heaven,
I, am ever thankful
but still need
a moment to remember
Inside this temple made of brick and clay
the many shades of your heart
are the prisms of my soul
Pinioned and shackled to your fires
we are vaulted by our own desires
two lovers breathing as one
Outside this prison of hell stands my nemesis
buried behind its boulders I am decaying
like a rotting apple de-pitted then discarded
Bitwise assaults to my soul,
I summon courage and finally break out
of this ridged corrugated pas-a-deux.
You broke my heart,
You ruined my life.
You stabbed me in the back,
With a red, ridged knife.
You tore me apart,
To pieces you see.
And you didn’t care,
That was always the key.
You took something from me,
And I’ll never get it back.
While you try to score,
And stay in your “pack”.
My virginity gone,
With a man who lied.
Now part of me rots,
While dying inside.
If you have a better category that i should put this in, let me know please. Thanks.
The sun shyly peeked over the hill
as the cold air made whispers audible
and dissipation began to rise from the dunes.
The morning breeze stirred flurries of sand from dunes
where shadows stubbornly clung to the face of the hill.
A susurrus from the copse barely audible.
Upon the bench in the lee of fickle dunes
the old brass plaque gleamed in rays cresting the hill:
an inscription of grief no longer audible.
Ridged hill of letters, promises audible among dunes.
Colonoscopy
Colonoscopy,
strikes dread. It’s not too bad - when
Colon trouble free.
Jules Verne-like travel,
up your ****, spelunking through
strange, pink-ridged caverns.
Hunting for the snark,
or boojum, or polyp, who
feasts, darkly, in there.
Snipety-snap - jaws,
polyp-snatch; dragging from view,
miscreant tissue.
Pathology dock -
destined. Tried in the morning,
suspected malign.
Tried.. judged innocent.
Callooh! callay! It vanished
softly — my boojum.