Short Scrapped Poems
Short Scrapped Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Scrapped by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Scrapped by length and keyword.
Scrapped myself across
obsidian finger tipped
tree tops
as the blistered red yawn
drags upon saliva skies
skin and bone
hanging empty doll
prone to be alone
His Brain Has Knapped
All other subjects Trump has scrapped;
Now how about by Obama being wire tapped?
More intelligence must have been lost
When all of his wires were totally crossed;
Forever we think his brain has knapped.
We are told that Franklin would have preferred
The scrumptious turkey as our nations' bird
Though old Ben's advice was scrapped
A turkey might have been apt
Since Washington's 'turkeys' are so absurd
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Pet
Petrified
In a corner
Images are what memories are made of
Sounds add audio for your tears
Precious feelings of the horrible never forgotten
Sit here—listen, this is how I feel
Do you reckon I am now what I remembered I was
Then…
Then knees scrapped, wild hair, grass stains,
Sunday dresses, shiny shoes…
Let’s play dress up
You’re mine
Muse
Form:
you birth me in this world for a reason
you went through the pain
you struggled through life
you yelled and screamed pushed and cussed
you scrapped up money
when you needed it.
you stood beside me for a reason
so when i cry you catch my tears
when i fall you pick me up
when i need a hand to hold
youes is there
Form:
I flipped the drawing
In the plastic drawer.
Its back facing forwards.
No longer will it be what I’m seeing.
I tore the drawing
From the blank wall.
Its laying downwards.
No longer will it be what I’m hoping.
I scrapped the drawings
In the digital folder.
Its all hidden away.
No longer will they be seen.
I erased the drawings
In the vault within my mind.
Its inspiring creativity locked away.
No longer will they be.
When you see me
What do you see
A man broken by the ravages of trying to be
The child crying at a scrapped knee
The lover unable to leave one who doesn't love me
The manic depressive numbed by life
The artist who strives to convey emotion
from a muddied paint tray
The poet using words to explain away the day
and with each syllable
give a little of me away
so what do you say
When you see me
What do you see
Cause all i see
is the empty
mom you birth me in this world for a reason
you went through the pain
you struggled through life
you yelled and screamed
pushed and cussed
you scrapped up money when u needed it
mom you stood beside me for a reason
so when i cry you catch my tears
when i fall you pick me up
when i need a hand to hold yours is there
Poachers shrug off
their critics,
who say that they are aiding
elephants' extinction - the
people who are thirsty
for money from tusks claim
that poaching
doesn't destroy the world,
it only destroys poverty
and feeds their hungry families.
They press the triggers,
without foreseeing a wild with no elephants;
a nation with no tourism;
an orphaned elephant calf;
a beauty scrapped off from Mother Nature's creation....
Photo #2
Date: 09/04/2016
Scrapped Book
The other side of the picture
a white out “got your back”
slings and arrows of passing fate
but “no one’s keeping track”
pursed lips of “ mirror practiced smiles”
just one more pose before we go
pinched eyes of “hurry up and click”
taken by someone we don’t know.
The crowds have thinned as mem’rys fade
it seems that family’s been undone
by people with 500 friends
“taking selfies” – “table for one”.
John G. Lawless
©6/13/2018
Arrive with me in untainted
light. Between two threats:
life and death. Falling from
mantle, there was no surrender.
Bone-deep, I will ask you a
question. What life has given
to you and what death
has taken from you ?
Read more in my eyes. You will
find the ravines of hunger. For
truth. No organic pain. Only thirst.
For a very violent rush of rains.
Ink-stained moon was willing
to cede the moonlight, even dew
to wipe out the nightmares of
your scrapped ego.
Satish Verma
Yesterday the men came working
For the first time at last
With acetylene and torch burning
From eyes glazed
And fastened on the old bridge
That crossed the river
Where the canefields yawned
At my yearning
When I was hungry.
The river is still wide
And deeper now seems to me
When the old bridge is gone
How will the hungry masses
The trouble of this town escape?
One bridge can only feed today
And I fear
There is nothing to sustain tomorrow
When the old bridge
Scrapped, leaves a barren way.