Short Rusty Poems
Short Rusty Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Rusty by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Rusty by length and keyword.
Rusty Pipes
Miracle Man 1/1/2025
He feared rusty pipes
so my friend drunk no water,
only alcohol!
Four pedals rusting --
screech of bikes
grates love’s uphill climb
................
Biker’s Dozen for Maureen McGreavy
10/3/2018
I am a man who has a
constant taste of fry oil
in his mouth.
Like pond water laden with the
fluid of rotted fauna
I am Rusty, lovelessly satisfied
gladiator of apathetic idealism
I wouldn't take in any cats that scratch and fret,
even if they gave me them for free and begged;
wild and mean Rusty was my first and only cat:
I hated when his red hair started to shed.
It wasn't three spikes,
Keeping Jesus on the cross;
But His incomparable love,
Caused Him to bleed;
On Golgotha's Hill He took,
All my sin and dross;
After crying " it is finished",
From sin I'm freed.
I took a step
My feet got wet
Just a drop of spit on my lip
I wink my eye
As then I’d cried
Because I’d slipped and fell on a rusty nail
6/27/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
Here I am again
2 am
Dishing out the pain
Washing it all out
Breaking up the rust
So that it evaporates
So I can come out again
So I can see the sun again
God, I’ve missed that
Warm on my cheeks
I can feel it burning life
Into my eyes
Hello again my old old friends
It's time to sing along again
A sweet song of long harsh cues
And war between a lovely two
Here I am rusty yet bright
New colors and an unused light
Hello again my old old friends
Hello
Hello
I'm Back...
Again...
Again.
Form:
The grey cloud has darkened the sky
As it brings the rain upon the land
Rusty broken metal strewn across the ground
Like so many lingering dreams and promises
The new green grass grows to cover the old metal
Now lost to sight as time rolls on.
© Paul Warren Poetry
The shy sky sends rumours of a dustfall,
More murmurs of the impending clouds’ brawl.
The least swirls of dust unleashed ceased the light,
It roars for hours from town center with fright,
Staining gowns brown and making dirts dusty.
The morons, like iron, became rusty.
Silent footprints left by you
impressions frozen in time
as you hurried into the empty cold night
I sat alone, watching the door
it never moved
for a time, it stayed open
still hoping, you would return
there was only silence
its hinges turned rusty and fell
7/18/14
Deep in the forgotten ruins it lies,
An old rusty key,
Where does this key go?
Nobody Knows,
A wise man speculates,
The key belongs to a heart,
A heart as rusty as the key,
A heart untouched by love,
For a great long time,
Will we ever find,
The heart that matches the key?
I'm like a rusty bucket forgotten by time no use to man or beast
left in the corner with nettles around my feet.
Blowing winds, blinding snow a sun that blisters deep
and as the season's pass into years.
A rusty bucket has the upper hand for it just sits,
while I must sit and dwell but I am like a rusty bucket
empty, broken and incomplete
weary waves whooshing
hoisted horizons hankering
dark dances drooling
felon fate fostering
airy atmosphere amputating
salient seas scrunching
mystic melody moaning
fiery figs feigning
voluptuous veils vying
callous crest crumbling
rustic rays reeling
lusty labium leering
tactic tiers tearing
rusty year retiring.
20:01:01:00:53
Eyeshadow I'm cold I'm pale
You die in hell I am hated
I am slaughter scorned and frail
What am I yet but substance
I am rugged rough and
I am just a rusted nail
I am tall bronze rustic
Can I be trusted
Solid steel I reveal
No longer frail
A longer frame yet I'm still rusty nail
11/20/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
.
my visage heats
unto mine embarrass
why me
she raised two digits
and in sink with her
lips
blew me the salacious kiss
winked
removed my pint
guiding mine
to the
exit sign
*)
Sandbox is rusty
The swing is covered with mold
They are so lonely
Without their bluebird
Playing and squealing on hold
Disappeared no word
Little chair’s broken
Vines withered away and brown
Hope you’ll be back ‘round
Drum beats no longer
Tambourine’s quieter than quiet
Frozen berries thawed
Mimi’s arms aching
For her Wrenna girl to hold
just don’t understand
The Rusty Years
Written: by Tom Wright
March 2015
I sit submerged in my thoughts,
Once again, lost in my yesterdays;
Focused on the man I was, rather than the man I am.
The problem isn’t the changing of those around me,
But that I have endeavored to remain the same.
And time is in lockstep with me as I age each day.
Time is the combatant of all good things.
Before a misty morning mirror
above a half-filled basin
such cold water was I braving
simply to lave my face in
but the coldest cut of all
and it only hurts when I smile
I severely slit myself while
I was busy shaving
but did my frozen fingers fumble
or was it just a rusty razor
which sorely needs replacement
that figured in my defacement
as there were many a slip
'twixt blade and lip
How long?
How long have you been standing there
Watching make a huge fool
Of myself?
How long?
How long have you been sitting there
When I thought I was here all
By myself?
How long?
How long have you been lying there
Within your grave, leaving me to rely
On myself?
How long?
How long have you been within there
Within me, making me realize I’ll never be
By myself?
Originally put on paper 1990.
From the side of a freight car,
he hangs his indigo heart on the rails.
As the metal wheels harmonize with the rain.
Amidst the rust, hustle, and thunder
The message is clear..." Jesus saves-Jesus saves".
Climb aboard the "faith" train before it's too late.
It's a take-care-of-number-one kind of world.
Everyone else be damned.
Live for the moment, trash away the soul.
There's no God of tomorrow
Flesh rules the day.
“Such simple things in life
can make it full and rife.”
_by Poet
The rusty gate was somehow left ajar;
behind, there lay a field of golden wheat.
Beside it, a dirt road- and not too far,
a log-house jewel made the scene complete.
I tiptoed close and heard her mutter sweet;
in shadow, girl with kitten caught my eye-
there rocking him to her soft lullaby.
Written: December 09, 2023
____________________________________
solitary slope whispers below
by the vernacular aphonic
with a fierce wind and unbiased rock
bucolic vibe is ponderous
It's chameleon patois
In schizoid iridescence and fluffy sky
I decipher everything
while trudging uphill as blind
Into the mouth of irrational tempest
no reason to stay here
as haze covers the sky
crows excel at tracing the white trail.