Short Rot Poems
Short Rot Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Rot by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Rot by length and keyword.
sweet gold masks decay
bruised fruit turns to black in frost
sunlight dies to ash
we clutch at the fading heat
dreading what the dark will strip
That's like saying the foul aroma
Could possibly put your brain in a coma
Disintegrate your socks
Near the back end of an ox
May even give you a case of glaucoma
Some days are winners, others are not
Jury's out but seems things have gone to pot
My mood's in the dumper
My world's split asunder
We've run out of java, my day is pure rot
He paints a face for all to see,
Of grace and high morality.
He scolds the world for every sin,
While hiding all the rot within.
He loves the mask, he loves the lie ,
Until the mirror catches his eye.
Sit and rot, skin falling from the bone.
The older you get, the more with yourself alone.
Decaying with every minute that passes on the clock.
A wrinkle here, tick.
An ache there, tock.
Alone I sit, alone I rot.
Form:
Some days are winners, others are not
The jury's still out but seems today's gone to pot
My mood's in the dumper
My world's split asunder
We've run out of java, my day is pure rot
© Jack Ellison 2015
Flowers die
Dry petals making a mess
Water my mouth with rot
Irritating promises
Focus on loud breaths
Empty eyes while I lay on the bed
Are you in there?
Or are you just like the rose petals rotting away on the floor
Not knowing the outcome,
I’d hide in the field
And wait for nature
to turn out the yield
Perception unharvested,
the thick to the thin
The fantasies rotting
—all truth caving in
(Stoltzfus Farm: December, 2020)
if attributes of form
are diminished
will presence
not contract
and so seek
restoration of joy
enabled by aliveness
thus signalling bondage
to ephemerality of dreams
instead of imbibing the truth
bliss that does not come and go
"Maga agenda 25" is a misnomer
and yet it is repeated ad nauseum,
but as Kamala Harris once said
"Young people ... are stupid."
Missing context or not
political campaigns are fraught
with snippets that don't mean squat,
but cause significant thought rot!
I live my life everyday but i slowly rot away. I try to make friends but none never come my way. I still live my life any ways. I might not make friends someday.But if not that's OK because i will live my life any way. and continue to rot away just like i do everyday.
Rondelet : (Nuclear) Rot in bowels
Rot in bowels
Sealed tight in cans, retarded bombs
Rot in bowels
Nuclear waste Earth sucks capsules
Poisoned gift to children in dumps
Let’s dance in White Night till Hell comes
(Nuclear) Rot in bowels.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
When the days all mush together and I can't feel what emotion is devouring my nervous system.
If lifelessness was a feeling then I'm embodying it with the numerous days of bed rotting trapped in my own insanity. I need out of my own head but I can't even seem to get out of my own bed.
“I hope you rot,” you said to me.
Well, now you see, you’ve won;
My bones have all but turned to rust,
And time slowly withers away at my skin.
The weeds and bugs pour from every crevice;
Bees buzz around my face
To drink from the flowers born out of my eye.
Slowly, I surrender myself to the earth—
So I can rot, just like you said.
don’t judge fallen fruit
by the color of its skin
rot begins inside
I visit my youthful stomping ground less and less each year. Somehow, the place seems damaged to me. Like a ripe apple that has fallen into the grass. It might be shiny and delicious looking on the top, but when you bend to pick it up, you can see it's mushy and bruised underneath.
Yard skeleton hazard’s a stay.
He smells like a fish aft’ three days.
We wish he’d keel over,
But one might discover
the neighbor’s been dead, sans sway.
How bad we’d all feel - all the same,
the grit and the bow are to blame.
The holiday bones wave.
It’s time to dig’m a grave.
The neighbor too IF he’s the same.
Sack the lot, theyr'e not that hot'
Mixed messaging and many flaws
Wicked counsel deviant causes
Making most, to reasess.' By many
Multitudes there will be redress.'
Its a mash of polony processed to
The enth.. Political nonsense done
To deat.! Awaken people you must
Proceed, flex you power there's now
Dire need; Full stop! Its time right now
To (sack the lot).!
Self appraising himself as a monk awake,
immune from life's outcomes, always elated,
he woke up one morning and began to shake,
quaking in fear, so had to be sedated.
No longer could he be placid like a lake,
for his feeble form's gender was rotated!
The roots of conditioning go in quite deep,
so it's best we assume nothing; let grace seep.
11-October-2022
He is a talent in rot;
From what his assessors got:
A magic no more wrought
For weeks his trainers wrath …
Then, again came his slot
And he tried his hard lot
But ended it in Naught;
Reproaches for A-Who-Could-Not …
Only better than a plain dot,
No more able to hold his fort
And thus a stuff to cease adding in a pot
So that no chef screams A Dietician’s “What!”
Indeed, A Shaming Rot!
I sometimes write a lot of rot,
My poetry writing lacks a lot.
I wish I could write with fire and passion,
Romantic poetry is always in fashion.
My inhibition gets in the way,
I may regret some things I say,
Showing a side of me,
That I don't want to show to thee.
Maybe because I've grown old,
Old folk, sometimes are perceived as cold,
The fire they had is now an ember.
Embers burn, do you remember?
Fraud lord marching with an orange smoothie mind
Every step he takes leaves shattered order behind
Power in his grip and he bends it to his will
Nothing in his path has the strength to make him still
Shadows twist around him when he moves through the night
Any truth that rises gets erased from sight
He keeps on advancing with a cold relentless stride
Walking through the wreckage like the world already died
Religious sermons invoking deep fear
damage the fabric of gullible souls,
inducing deluded beliefs that sears,
labelling God as a revengeful ghoul;
far cry from touch of love, making us whole.
The rot of religion has sunk in deep.
The path is easy; preachers make it steep.
Reject, oh hermit, teachings that contract.
Gods love alone real and in all hearts seeps,
which purity of heart, gently attracts.
06-February-2021
Fragile rocks diminish from the soul
A heart made out of gold
Is just a heart made out of stone
You'll melt or you'll wither
What's felt is a sliver
But that sliver can feel colossal
Before and behind me's my ghost
Reflections and shadows
Will forever follow
I'm my one possession
The rest is obsession
The sun burns through endless black holes
Eclipsed by a thought
And twist in a knot
We are endlessly savoured to rot
there twasn't lights breaking
embarrassment
no, there is illusions of daybreak
i sieve knowing seas, lasting songs
columned bridges dangling low
on lustless ships
deserting grips
guilty spectacles, hived
crustaceous criminals
devouring sadness
bells fasting to rebuild glowing hours casting
italian imperialists
hunting burning forests with wine
liberated toddlers taunting grandfathers
inside of ticking guillotines
burning pouches of mothers milk
Gender determined behavioural change
Looking at wayside beggars with disdain
Religious bias, our prejudice strange
Fairer skin colour, making us feel vain
The way we dress and speak, ego complex
Shifty eyes belie, that our heart is stained
Conflicting emotions, puzzle and vex
In truth we yearn for childlike innocence
This life game of pretence, leaves us perplexed
Let us rise hermit, from our fallen stance
Death will come one day, meanwhile let us dance
19-June-2021