Short Scout Poems
Short Scout Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Scout by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Scout by length and keyword.
Overwhelmed rover
Yet I am not anywhere
Some days will be there
Though I am somewhere
Fighting thorns to discover
That thrones be conquer
There once was a girl scout named Daisy
She was just a little bit crazy
She ate magnets for lunch
They went down in a bunch
Luckily she was not at all lazy
Stuck in forest
Climb, feel breeze!
Scout where to go
If stuck may not know!
Sink into despair?
Connect with those who care!
Blaze the way
Peace someday!
fresh and aromatic were her newest flowers
miniature daisy stamens within daisies
in ombre' too, fascinatingly innocent
no wonder you are the favorite flower of girl scouts
and Juliette Low
Today a black ant ran out of my C and H sugar bag
She was old, determined, mission-minded, a real hag
Trailing my sugar back to her well-attended ant nest
Ultimate scout, showing the way to my bag to the rest.
A tenderhearted lad from Schenectady
Gave his elbow to an elderly lady
Helping her across the street,
While never missing a beat
Leaves her happy in a better spot shady.
Written May 18, 2022
Charming child, your apple cheeks
give an appearance which bespeaks
of girlish innocence.
I have ten dollars and ten cents -
Now that you have gained my trust,
do with me what you must.
Sell me cookies, 'lil booger,
and kill me with loads of sugar.
I remember waking up
To the sudden sense of fear
My camping bag was packed
I could sense what was near
The 3 hour drive
Was a bit of drag
Where I would spend 5 nights
Saluting the flag
I was nervous at first
Didn’t think it was fair
But then I realized
I was under their care
And I felt safe
I cry at Chain Bridge
in my third year as a tenderfoot.
It's the same thing,
when father takes his time
showing up and the earth
gapes all the way to chaos.
It's when the money runs out
and the business fails.
The scouts all laugh
as they stand near their
neat packs with all their
plans piled beside them.
I am 13 in the dangerous
age of sissies.
I wonder what
the crying does.
Rather chewy a Girl Scout
cookie, laden
with coconut and chocolate
nipped, directly
from the fridge
chipped teeth
would not be delicious
so either wait for a Girl Scout
cookie, to thaw
or oh dear me
and
bless her heart
microwave the Girl Scout
treat, add
wholesome milk
or
diet coke, with bits
of ice, suffice
it to say
a Girl Scout’s
rather nice
He was a Mean Scout,
This showing with a pout,
His Upper Lip and The Lower out:
Just finer than a pig’s snout!
He was a Coarse Scout,
Readiness showing for a bout,
With knees at the mercy of gout;
An eagerness to a rival rout!
But should a well-groomed scout
The slogans of The Rash tout;
An integrity leave in doubt;
Shoulders rub with a lout…
Sacrosanct rules of scout
Flippantly flout?
Dresses, bows, make-up, this is who
I am not, don’t put me
In a dress
I’ll give you an insight of my life, I have a neighbor who
We call Boo
My brother Jem, who is older
Believes he is bolder
Atticus we call him, never dad
He never says we couldn’t, but I don’t want him to get mad
There is a boy name Dill
He comes every summer, to his aunts
He can be a bit of a pill
Together we act like mice
Sneaking around
But a price
We have to pay
To see another day
Form:
Here's a made up story I'll shout...
There once was a spot on a globe.
Enormous it was so old.
Keen eye this darkening hole.
And around it goes.
Where it appears no one knows,
When it comes and it silently goes.
There once was a spot on a globe.
Man's ego said he should know.
Concentric in form and glow,
The peak is shown in a rainbow.
There once was a spot on a globe.
Kept watch over time as it flowed.
Assume your direction to know....
Where in a sphere that is.
Form:
He raced confidently forward.
The adults seemed indifferent.
I had tripped and the hard fall
knocked me unconscious.
He turned me over and grabbed
the belt around my waist.
With man-strength he lifted me,
forcing air into my lungs.
I stood, wiping dirt from my face
and dusting off my clothing.
I dabbed a few bleeding scratches
And shoved my hair behind my ears.
The adults went about the chores
they’d been performing.
I was seven. He was twelve.
My hero. My brother.