Short Round About Poems
Short Round About Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Round About by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Round About by length and keyword.
Up hill down hill and round about
Beautiful West Virginia route
This state may be small
But I tell you all
Big as Texas if ironed out
Pond Haiku for You
(for Marilyn B)
By Franklin price
6/9/2015
Pond haiku for you
Wildlife with homes round about
Pictures taken prove
Her pants were tight with a hole
Wearing them made her real bold
Butt cheeks hanging out
Shaking round about
To many she looked like pure gold
There was a man named Round-About Pete
Who never walked beyond his own street
Coz when he tried to go
He’d walk a large O
Since he was born with two right feet
In a round-about, indirect
Not to dissect but inspect
Alternative means to deflect
From some singular aspect,
Of getting to a point or effect…
I need to be more direct.
God's faithfulness* brightened by His assurance guards me from doubts' perils.
*Psalm 89:8 O LORD God of hosts, who is a strong LORD like unto thee? or to thy faithfulness round about thee?
March 29, 2019
Smiled down upon are, here.
The one sunny place.
Meanwhile round about, everywhere
All what blurs for grief.
If so willed meant for whom
If not, friend, ourselves!
Self congratulations deplore.
Yet clap them! If brief.
Spring Ritual
Stark
naked
feminists
join hands and dance
exuberantly
on a verdant hilltop
leaping round about in step
beneath an enlightened blue sky
to commemorate Spring’s arrival
and the emancipation of women.
Splish Splash, I was taking a bath round about half-past three
When all of a sudden in my window I spied a man in a tree
He was leering and when
I looked back again
He was gone, freaked out at the sight of my weenie
Skyscraper:
In my dream,
The snow lay round about,
Showing clear signs of melting decay
As if light rain had fallen on it recently,
And my eyes could hardly fail to see
The head of a dead man,
A brave Ukrainian,
Murdered there.
Padraig
going round about
town seems to have
found they're none
to be found
so none
would be hurt
but it's still
worth to pray
for god's sake
and dismay
to banish
what never was
yet now
named
a saint
still
ain't
no
snakes
Form:
Best
faith propped
pleasing God
commitment-vow*
blest!
*Psalm 76:11 Vow, and pay unto the LORD your God: let all that be round about him bring presents unto him that ought to be feared.
July 2, 2019
edited on November 20, 2020
Fight! Fight! the Lord God cried
Ready for battle, stand your ground
The dead spirits are 'round about
Spreading evil to take us down
Oh no we will fight the people said
We know our God is on our side
Thank you Lord for all you've done
You have gone and saved our lives
In memories you haunt my heart!
You hedge me round about
with fences I both love and hate;
I find there's no way out.
There is no gate, and, oh, the thorns
on your roses that I hold;
I drew them close for mem'ry's sake
and felt old daggers in my soul.
© Faye Lanham Gibson, June 12, 2014
Above these darker grown
Piny-shady woods
That, deeper, for its bears'
Hideout, enclosed in
Greatest of the great unknowns
Out-stares. Need more gin?
Only what reflects it
For this campfire's sparks
Goes out. As high tracked of
Homey, reassure
We, round about, in friendship
Warmer show its lure.
Pish Posh, I was taking a bawth round about half past three
When all of a sudden in my window I spied a man in a tree
He was leering and when
I looked back again
Pish Posh, he was gone, guess he freaked out at the size of my weenie
(Thanks to my new friend, Lin Lane)
© Jack Ellison 2015
A shoulder to cry on
a tear in a storm
a rainbow of a dream
a light so clear it beams
a ghost in a shell
a cat rings a bell
a tea cup on a round about
a cloud in my heart
a table sat at alone
a room full of people
but you're still lonely
a kettle boils
a child laughs
the world is ending?
Dont be so daft.
Winter-spring canon
Incensed along Jacob's Creek
Like watery angels thought less from clouds above
Canopies of light make soft their entrance
In clucking-pig-progging-and-a-yip-yip-yipping
A shuft-and-shushing of large glass doors
Round about our ways of going
Slipping on the wet pages of our
Winter-spring canon
Ironic, how these wheels of time come round about....
Metaphoric make-shift boats sailing back across her Atlantic
Refugees fleeing their ancient ruins ? Turgid waters crashing skies
Blame it on the revolution but the truth is, they were never more than
A footnote stuffed within some dusty book case kept, amid some dusty room.
Form:
DEATH OF A GYPSY QUEEN
They gathered round the dying place
to bid their queen farewell
the glow of every gypsy fire
left little more to tell
for round about each glowing flame
a bondage few could know
and when the queen departed them,
each gypsy felt her go.
True story, in Baltimore Johns Hopkins Hospital Camput
1959
Form:
A Rare and Fine Actor
can also be a very
common, self-serving
As...hole--
Sort of like,
all poets are writers
but all writers
are not necessarily
poets—nor even
literate;
I guess, what I’m saying
in the Round-about is,
Let God be God
while knowing that
men will always be
men when it comes
to sex and politics….
Lets rebuild this thing
This love that use to be
Company: once was us
Now just you, and me
Together can be a lonely place
Time and life has caused it true
I need your help with this, My Dear
Lets get back to me and you
I know I need you once again
Don't you long for that place?
Where love flew round about us
A warm and gental kind of space
Molder of mega minds
Tracker of tiny time
I write mountaintops
To read the bottom line
Storm catacomb castles
Swarm like Hollywood hustle
Transform fat into mighty muscle
Warm and happy
With an afternoon apple
Fruit salad ballads
Round about rapids
Cool off in a bath of acid
Knock the voices out of my head
Using a rubber mallet
Fierce immaculate eyes
And I the round-about move-about
With circus on the mind.
You knew when to punch.
Though I changed the rules
With the touch of my palm on yours.
And then into homeward arms we fell.
Digging up the sun
That shone on our hearts,
Where love starts.
Not in the butt.
That's for farts.
It was all getting old
These endless things
Another year here: misery....
Yet this would divert nor appease
Her cold coming down ? A world in lost
Must we endure another day; these,
Chains their lies truth's, pain! Where is mercy ?
Thousands of years; his grave: slaves, she sings
While tears form our eyes; as skirting round about, nothing.