Short Scathe Poems
Short Scathe Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Scathe by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Scathe by length and keyword.
Bursting into red,
That’s all I see,
I can feel myself,
Losing all control,
My words scathe like flames,
Yet I am powerless,
A shell of a good human,
Almost satanic,
I mourn the torment.
Excoriate means: abuse, assail, attack, bash,
belabor, blast, castigate, jump (on), lambaste
(or lambast), potshot, savage, scathe, slam,
trash, vituperate
Deplorables and Excoriables
Are many people who are excoriables,
We did discover are really deplorables;
Now exist,
And persist;
Find to be foes that are formidable.
Jim Horn
A stranger called me sweet tonight
couldn't help but smile,
For I was down with a frown then
suddenly worthwhile.
With no scathe he brought some faith
pondered his intent,
Though then he left and I felt blessed
from a compliment.
Will pass it on now he's gone
to bring another gladness,
Human beings with all good means
to rise above the sadness.
~20th April 2021~
I'll read you in stars, for my last supper.
I follow you in blooms and clouds, today
I Hear your breezeways, you're time wrapper
I'll read you in stars, for my last supper.
I taste you in my mind with grave pucker
Verses stay, wounds scathe, Poet turns to clay.
I'll read you in stars, for my last supper.
I follow you in blooms and clouds, today.
Written: May 10, 2023
Angels descending bring from above,
Echoes of mercy,whispers of love.
But evil surround them as they land,
Making the world a place so bland.
"God help this world",their remark
"Save the people from the dark."
A chant of love they start to sing,
But hatred,revenge scathe their wing
Which make them stuck to the ground like stone,
And ever-since try to restore peace on their own.
But still remain fallen angels as time goes by,
Forever separated from the heaven and sky.
I'm a man who goes through time
by toasting away the present.
I'll neither wine or dine
unless I'm seen a peasant.
I'll raise my glass to health:
to fortune and good faith.
I'll cherish those with laughter
who love me without scathe.
I'll heed a joyful dancer
who floats my spirit close.
And thank the God above
for grace in greater dose.
To bed I'll say my prayers.
The futures in my hands.
...but thanks goes to the lord
who includes me in his plans.
Alas, we must mow again, again
The Shallow grass, the poppy fields,
The tuliped glade o'er yonder glen
Until in solemn rest we mend.
Not for this time of rest we seek,
Our swords, not plowshares,
And our shields, our burdens heavy
Carried 'til we meet and on this field
Our foe defeat.
In long rows the harvest comes,
The youthsprigs' archaic drills!
The scathe we raise in unison
A fire so bright outshines the sun!
Cut down, cut down! And then were none.
Pain can cut and scathe,
And go beneath the deepest waves.
It shows our anger,
While proving we have survived.
Yet, this feeling,
Is hated and held so dear.
For those who tread without fear,
Will find this feeling most everywhere.
They will seek out pain,
And show it to the grave.
They will carry it upon their soul,
In chains and scars that shall not heal.
Pain spares nothing,
Mercy is not to be found.
For it lies low,
'Til you are buried in hallowed ground.