Short Scuffed Poems
Short Scuffed Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Scuffed by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Scuffed by length and keyword.
Long dreams
Short happiness
Sweetly savory
Glossily scuffed
Heat cracked
Ignitable flame
Pair required
Both rediscovered.
Scratched, though a perfect match
To the scuffed, cabinet at home
Cost only thirty nine dollars
Well worth that price, to help organize our chaos.
I’m not connected
Neither am I happy
And so
Words are like forgotten junk
Like happy
Like connected
Like ice scuffed
Unforgiving cold beneath
Heavens above
Breathing
©davidbyrne jan 2013
Chrome meets sun;
a slick reflection
Salt and grit;
smooth surface;lined
Body scuffed;
marked;textured
Dampness green;
always forgiving of nature.
Hairs stand on end;
obscurity march
in procession
I've been under attack ever since I was finished
Stepped on, scuffed up, and muddied
Thrice I was flooded
Twice I was bloodied
Graciously this pounding I take
'Cuz without me your feet'd really ache
Thanksgiving?
They smile
slowly moving –
slow line shuffle
Tattered garb,
top-scuffed shoes,
weathered hands
grasping plastic plates
awaiting hot portions
of Thanksgiving.
John G. Lawless
©11/6/2017
Jumpers, darned with wool
Trousers, patched for school;
Shoes scuffed,left unlaced
Teeth framed in metal brace;
Dripping noses and chilblains,
Scarfs and finger mitts
Ears muffled against the chill
Ffee milk solid on the sill.
A clearing vision fails.
Nothing is what it seems.
Your inheritance, scuffed
lenses, ammonia, sins
of a grandmother’s house.
Of a grandmother’s house
nothing departs unchanged.
Elbows, knees and knuckles
scraped raw by scour-pads,
solvent, sting of scrubbed air.
a re-post inspired by Janice's contest
WINTER '47
Jumpers, darned with wool
Trousers, patched for school;
Shoes scuffed,left unlaced
Teeth framed in metal brace;
Dripping noses and chilblains,
Scarfs and finger mitts
Ears muffled against the chill
Free milk solid on the sill.
Long dreams
Alternate seems
Short happiness
Emerges snappiness
Sweetly savory
Faith bravery
Glossily scuffed
Hardly chuffed
Heat cracked
Odds stacked
Ignitable flame
Hope's aim
Pair required
Thoughts rewired
Both rediscovered
Love recovered
Jumpers
darned with wool
Trousers
patched for school
Shoes scuffed
left unlaced
Teeth frame
in metal brace
Dripping noses &
chilblains
Scarfs &
finger mitts
Ears muffled
against the chill
Free school milk
solid on the sill.
repost from 2007
Some things in life
Seem natural.
Riding a bike,
Shoes that get scuffed,
Swimming the lake,
Summertime hikes.
So why is it,
Some people run
Laps at the track,
Jaunts through the park,
Expanding lungs,
Pain without fun.
Answer is plain.
The joy of time,
Spent unafraid,
Far from the grind,
No calls to make,
Time all one’s own!
Young brothers sport
Brown leather mitts,
The ball they toss
Is white, not scuffed,
And on the walk
A robin hops
While joggers pant
Along the lane—
Yes, spring has come,
Chill days have fled,
And barren trees
Flaunt verdant buds
As women, young,
Don skimpy skirts
To catch the eyes
Of virile men
Enjoying sun
This springtime day.
I will wear white pants all year long
with shoes scuffed from a sandy night;
Discolored waves that won't come out
those seaside moments haunt my eyes;
Capture the season keep it strong
hold those scandalous fashions tight;
Laid back vibe lingers all about,
when you're free it seems time flies;
Land of a thousand summers song,
one note I'm back in paradise.
Broken fruit stacked forward, with
their tender lip-soft skins
scuffed among her unspoiled sisters.
Lonely is the unripe peach
hoping to be chosen,
turning her sun side out, beckoning,
longing to be washed and tasted, and
not knowing of her immature bitterness.
They always reach back
for the fresh loaf of bread
at the back of the shelf.
its not the same for fruit.
She has worn out her welcome, that,
Like an old, scuffed-up welcome mat
So much poorly written verse,
It could not possibly get any worse
I suspect she probably knows it, too,
That she is wearing thin as an old shoe
So, it is time that she put it to rest
Like any most unappreciated guest,
And take up another hobby of sort
For at poetry, she is coming up short.
Written August 31, 2021
The dog stops often to sniff
the scuffed turf,
it smells last Sundays game
tracing the play, the points
where the intoxicated ball
slid crazily,
through layers of musky exertion.
The man of course smells none of this,
he only smells a ghostly perfume
now buried in another place.
Yet even here
deep in this rucked and rutted earth
like a dog on a remembered scent
he follows her.
Waltzing on bracken and shingle,
Dirt scuffed and spun in the air,
As the blood and the dust devils mingle,
Drying, infused with despair.
The crackling twigs in the campfires
Spat out the legends of old;
The wind blew the ash of those campfires
Until all those ashes grew cold.
Whispered in tongues of black humour,
Polemics of demons and dread,
And freedom became but a rumour,
Butchered dreams in a dead man’s head.
Two pairs of scuffed sports shoes
Remain where they were kicked off on the bedroom floor
Never to be worn again
Two brothers playing football in heaven
But their footwear remains here on earth
As do their broken hearted parents
I wonder about the supplier of the drugs that killed them ...
Would he like to be in their shoes now?
Two Shoes Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
07-30-17
where is that little bear, Burt? Everyone asked.
finding him was deemed to be a cousins’ task
we knew he was in the sunflower field probably taking a nap
that’s when some of us got in trouble for saying “oh, crap!”
the adults can swear, it seems all right when it is them
But it better not be the kids in the family said Uncle Jim.
the sunflowers are prickly almost like thorns and they hurt.
We were all scuffed up and bleeding by the time we found Burt.
With a SPLASH of color
a chance for cooler weather
falls BUZZ is heard
the CHATTER of talking leaves
DROP to the ground
a CRUNCH under foot
broken into a MUMBLE
barely heard
trees become naked
and CLAP with a wind
summer's heat HICCUPS into fall
begging for a DROP of rain that never comes
the CLATTER of mini blinds
BANG against scuffed kissed windows
as the floor fan CLANKS with broken blade
leaving fall to settle the score
with summer's heat