Short Rinsed Poems
Short Rinsed Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Rinsed by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Rinsed by length and keyword.
She arches naked
Her hair, rinsed in natures life
Posture, proud and pert
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life2.php
I’m singing honey-
rinsed sunflower serenades
twirling with corn rays…
and I’ll waltz through every fall…
to embrace his saffron warmth
blue hush spreads
over open fields~
cedar breath,
distant cows,
sun breaking through ragged clouds,
sky rinsed clean again.
Rinsed clean
yesterday's sun
tiptoes across the dawn
washed by last night's dream of rainbows
refreshed
..........................................
For Sara's Cinquain contest
6/9/15
My heart on the clothesline
drip drying in evening’s breeze
washed in introspection
rinsed in morning dew
fresh and clean and new ~
till an evil little birdie
flew by
and
pooped on me
Her love was insipid
It was lukewarm and murky
His heart sipped it
Spat it out and rinsed it
Cleansed itself
Removed
All traces of insipidity
Murkiness and acidity
Disguised as love
Dripping from a broken heart
Blend of superlative words
rinsed from all errors,
immersed in stocked emotions,
spiced up with top tales
and garnished with twists.
~Hot soup bowl~
SLURP!
Date : 01/20/2016
Oblivion gone away
Into a shimmering night sky,
Fires of fury doused
By a sparkle of the moon's eye,
Ambiance rinsed by effervescence
As souls lie,
Amidst a milieu of rejoicing time,
Living a Jordanian Night...
Rinsed in Styx and forged for an eon,
I've reaped a lot than I've verily sown;
Impelled by the soul of an obstinate scion,
I've born again to reclaim my throne.
- The Fallen Tyrant
Paper art was tongue steeped wet,
Midnight’s swim in gel.
Tactile only silhouette,
Dense unseen new shell.
Dawn’s hot shower could not clean,
Midday’s warmth woke me.
Slow cures had tapped time’s canteen,
Blotter’s spell rinsed free.
Four score and twenty years
I rinsed my lids- so many tears
So oft I sigh
To life anew- firsts breathe
To life lost- ye mourn a death
So oft they die
Twenty years and forty score
I'll weep again, at least once more
So oft I cry
Going through the house
gathering up the spent ones.
Sorting into piles, all alike,
they go in one at a time.
Washed and rinsed clean.
Then dried and fluffed
until baby bum soft.
What I want to know...
Is why does...
The dryer eat the socks?
keeper of the house,
the toilet sparkler,
the bowl pristine
inside and out ready
to be esteemed.
the sink’s polished white,
the grime and dust, binned.
the shower, scoured,
rinsed, repeat.
repétér, Sam,
i’m not a slave.
‘tis an honor.
Washed clean
yesterday's sun
tiptoes across morning
rinsed by last night's dream of darkness
breaks new
___________________________________________
Andrea's Contest: Adelaide Crapsey's Poems
1/12/15 ........ Visual # 7
Life filled me up like sand from the beach
Full, with all that surrounded me
Then time and chance did their dance
Picked up by hands of beauty
Rinsed and cleaned and rinsed again
"I hope you will still love me"
. . .and my sand was emptied and washed away
Form:
We draw a line across time sand,
I let go of your trembling hand.
You open window on new land,
learn to dry your tear.
Our roads diverge in bleak terrain,
I walk mine rinsed in wistful rain,
each step remembers shared old pain,
and yet here we are.
Thermite skies burning through the storm
Hapless waves contort their form
Every whisper cottoned with a foaming roar
Shoreline beaten and eroded
Tryst becomes a love affair
Oiled dabs and daubs
Rinsed highlights splattered with death blacks
Mesmerised by storms eye quiet lack
“Foggy mists engulfed the bright
When raindrops fell throughout the night
The lampposts glowed at midnights dark
When sweethearts kissed at Lover's Park”
Silent lovers entwined in sensuous rapture
The thrill of fusion they desired to capture
Melody of love resonated in rain-rinsed wind
The gleam of dream melted miasma of mind
Chop onions into black sauce pan.
Smell wavers up, nostrils expand.
Some like topped with bread, cheese.
Tasty without. Goes down with ease.
Beef broth hits the spot, it's hot.
We're having it with BLTs and fries.
I rinsed the onions and I didn't cry.
Soup's simmering on stove for dinner.
It smells so good, sure to be a winner.
. for public domain
Tragic tears bare sour salt.
So saline the flavor,
although no one's at fault.
Uncomfortably warm
as they roll down the cheek.
Heat from an inner storm?
They always seem to stream
from the lips to the tongue,
rudely end a dream.
Our souls need to be rinsed,
cleanse too pleasant a sleep;
cruelty of life, evinced.
I taught my son to shave today
Whiskers only he can see
The reflection in the mirror was
A yesteryear one of me
So serious and timidly
Careful with every move
He rinsed away the remaining suds
And again his face was smooth
I taught my son to shave today
With a solidly steady hand
He walked in my bathroom a little boy
And walked out a proud young man
Smelling the clothes rinsed,
Easily he winced
Then, freed a waiting sigh
For the ones not dry …
Now, quite The Helpless-Tired,
He shall have a launderer hired
The Heart he needs that of A Lion
To The Settled Ones iron …
Clothes keep waiting to be washed,
Even asking that this be rushed
But in reply a face is just flushed,
Because Tap Water still gushed.
A meadow of roses...awash in colors, from pale pink to deepest crimson,
lavender, pale yellow tinged in pink, to coral, silver and bronze.
With brick walkways that capture dappled sunlight, and are rinsed with rain.
Perfumed air of roses, in morning's mist, casting a spell of enchantment.
May 1, 2023
for "Rose Meadow Poetry Contest"
by Julia Ward
On the twilight backdrop rinsed by the rays of the setting sun,
where I give the final strokes of brush on the edge of canvas,
my landscape is illuminated by the divine glow of eternal light,
and I see me in the lengthening shadow bigger than myself.
(Stanza taken from : Something Bigger Than Myself)
October 28, 2020
Contest : Liberum Divisa 2
Sponsor : Gregory R Barden
soft-skinned power cell
a garden, with a river flowing beneath
water, warmed with whirlpool wisps
Palm pads press pleasure past pain.
El Oso paused, then leaned over a cliff.
He could smell her near.
A water fall boasted, in high frequency,
as it proudly rinsed off her dreds.
Here’s what El Oso saw.
a soft-skinned power cell
a river of red maple
not too damned sweet
wild