Short Scuttling Poems
Short Scuttling Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Scuttling by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Scuttling by length and keyword.
Stripped blazing, for danger
A tiger.
As blatant, for the fear
On the ear.
Stop; smell your bush, blooming.
Foolish grin;
Letting out an ahh! Then
Out of there
As past some jungle lair
Be scuttling.
wind sets leaf dancing
waving up and down on twig
pulls and tugs it loose
whipping up water
into colourful bubbles
spraying them afar
scuttling clouds racing
across the endless blue sky
leaving wisps behind
Hark, everyone, one and all,
like crabs on rocks, on earth we crawl,
minding tides that rise and fall,
I say unto you.
Vast, long-suffering, scuttling horde,
welcome our new leader and lord,
a bountiful harvest our just reward,
Now we are crab stew.
A week of triple digits.
The birds stay low.
No sign of life, except
gophers scuttling across dry grass
making for the lower regions.
Roots, tubers and bulbs. Gophers
turn down and inward, thrive
on lonely.
Look, here’s one that feels
the vibration of our feet
and scuttles off again.
Lowly, homely, alive.
THE MOUSE WITH THE HAT
But wait, is that a mouse with a hat
Tilted sideways in a most casual way
I guess it must be going somewhere
Scuttling along with a purposeful air
Perhaps to meet another once there
At some fancy formal dress up affair
And it may even be that special day
But a bowtie, so few expecting that
in soddening tempest
and billowing gale
i stand and plead with God
for drought
feet rooted in scuttling sand
wind-swept grains thrash at my face
i stand and plead with God
for typhoons
one day i wake up
keeled over in shallow puddles
brought to a boil
by a horizon's line of sun
a flower sprouts by my open palms
and i ask God
for seeds
You are gone and you will never come back.
I will never see you again.
I miss watching you pace back and forth,
your four tiny paws scuttling against the ground.
I miss holding you up to me,
and feeling you purr in happiness.
I wish that I could pet your soft fur once more.
I miss you and want to see you again.
You, my adorable kitten, are forever gone.
I took a dive
And saw the fish.
A star fish too…
I made a wish.
An octopus,
A scuttling crab,
The ocean’s floor
Is never drab.
As mermaids sing
And dolphins play,
I wish this was
My holiday.
A treasure chest,
A sunken ship.
Now time to leave -
But what a trip.
I can’t believe
The things I’ve seen;
I wish I owned
This submarine.
For Heather’s Beatlemania contest
God in all His majesty
gives us now His tenth great gift
of multifarious joys.
Ghostwinds whistle lilting tunes,
motivating dancing leaves
to make their scuttling noise.
Distant hills are masterpieces.
God, the Artist, planned the blend
of reddish brown and gold.
Mums and pumpkins fill their spots
in front-yard settings bright and bold.
When they told me it was a fringe
I told them scuttling the common man
This country is about to binge
The tea party is a revolution
Opportunistic like a parasite, O do not get me wrong
For I am a lover of nature
And believe it is the right of every creature
To have its existence. I just miss the song
That the wasp never sings
And guard against the venom when it stings.
A time for werewolves, zombies, bones,
For spiders, vampires, ghosts and bats,
Blood curdling shrieks and chilling moans,
Of walking corpses, witches’ cats,
See scuttling beetles, ghouls and rats.
Old warlocks chant and banshees cry,
The carved out pumpkins light the way,
And broomsticks soar across the sky,
As shrivelled mummies flaunt decay:
It’s Halloween or All Souls’ Day.
Their ships must ride
a rolling sky,
masts too high to sail into view.
They appear, board the land,
they buccaneer.
The clamoring mob
fall upon a scuttling prey
pluck the weakest
into hungry holds.
An eye-aye cocked and ready,
they raid and maraud
as only
treasure seekers can.
The gulls are here
and for a while
sea and land broil.
the air erupting
with mutinous calls.
Winter in that city ripped the warmth from my soul.
All those faceless people with frozen hearts and minds,
Alive but not living, pushing… rushing…struggling
Like rats scuttling in and out of nameless places
Life there was for dreamers and only the young have
Any dreams left to give. There’s no inspiration
There for a man too old for imagination.
Not there among all those hurried, screaming masses
created 1/1/2012
The train left the platform amid trails of smoke
That blew across faces
Waving away worn smiles.
The grey sky leaned into the horizon
Forming a broken arc,
Rain moved into chains of grief
From the departure.
A wind stole the voices
Leaving the sad opening,
Moving the sound away from this cold space
That no-one would see again.
An emptiness filled the station
As they left, scuttling like
Hermit crabs searching for new homes.
20.01.19
There's a big, brown spider in my room,
Shall I hit it with a broom?
Shall I suck it up the Hoover?
Best be quick, it's a real fast moover.
I'll roll up a paper and give it a clout
Or open the door and let it run out
I keep thinking of ways to bring about it's demise,
But it keeps scuttling and staring, so many eyes!
The door is open and it simply won't go
I'm getting anxious, it's starting to show.
So, I employ the best spider remover bar none,
"TONY PUT THE SPIDER OUT", job done!
Form: