Short Sends Poems
Short Sends Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Sends by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Sends by length and keyword.
She sends herself flowers
and beautiful, uplifting, cheerful, upbeat notes.
She states how magnificent she is, how talented, how smart.
Showing her childhood self what she had missed.
God Sends
All creator
God send down your anointing
Maker of all and all that is
create in me new things
7/9/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2019
PENSEE poetry form
coughing up my lung and my stomach
a Mack truck must have run over me last night
I crawl into work anyway thinking I am indispensible
the boss almost immediately sends me home
don't come back until you are well she says
glad she is my boss
"God sends pets without wings so no one will suspect they are angels ..." Unkown
Angels come in all sizes
Never knowing when they will appear
Great fur coats to wear
Every day and night of the year
Love will spread their wings
Slurps and hugs forever more
Listen to poem:
Careless Friends
David J Walker
It was an every day
Forever
A never way
transcends
A newer day
that never ends
a day at last begins
a day bygone
the day beyond
pretends to be
another dawn
forever never sins
and never sends
for careless friends
Rainbow moon sent by the faerie stars
Wise wolf howls her truth watching her future
She is experiencing a giant crystal ball of feelings
Mystical imagination parades prominently in the kalidescopic sky
Ethereal goddesses divert Zeus so he will not ruin things
They have much to share with the earth tonight
I miss my mother quite often
so she sends me cardinals
they are bright red and fat
they bring a sense of hope and peace
reminding me that I did not lose my mother
she will live forever
the cardinals she sends bring me hope
I feel lucky, they manifest new ideas
they are powerful, their messages clear
and I miss my mother less.
My Dear King,
Has time been good to you?
Do the snows of the winter-man make you think 'What could have been',
When you slew my brother did you think of us...
Your God-- your Father-- is not mine,
But did you not break His laws?
So why should you be sung on high when you should burn down low
3/7/'14
Lou, the harvest moon witch sits on a lovely stump
next to a miniscule gremlin who can be a grump
He is trying to nay-say her into a bad mood
But she has confidence and fortitude
Go away honey, she says, unless you can be positive
He slinks away into the leaves, that Gremlin, Shiv
Admiring her greatly, but a bit miffed too
He could not change the mood of that witch, harvest moon Lou
Rain follows the fading winter's breath
In the tangled field,
where bristly ryegrass sways
Emerging green, the blades do rise
glimmer in the verdant hue of shamrock
like the lively notes of the cuckoo's call
Whispers dance upon the undulating meadows
The fragrance of the soil—
its charm, a whisper of rain-kissed ground
Silver whispers of yearning
Softly sung, a memory lingers still.
the sends of doom incorporate a lot of butterfly does anyone read books any
more yea know some people dolt get each other........... what is fighting really i
have to smoke and have a good time because i dong know anything about
fighting its all about the strength i have heard and i just font know anything else
about it do you wear costumes or in regular clothing do teeth fall out who knows
this stuff well so lion for know
Sam sends smileys,
Sheila seeks sobriety;
Siberian skies shed sadness!
Seven Swallowtails swirl,
sunset sets scenic shades:
scintillating, stunning,
stimulating, sparkling!
Sordid sentiment stays sentient,
safeguarding searing sailing ships;
sailors sit still sipping scotch,
soaring seagulls start shrilling:
somber, sorrowful symphony!
Sordid sea swerves ship,
storm stirs subdued senses;
Simon strums strings...
sober Samuel sings!
For Langston Hughes
What sends them Harvard poets
I just couldn't do it, Sir:
What sends them Harvard poets
I just couldn't do it, Sir:
They'll never give me a Pulitzer.
What tickles them Yale poets
Just leaves me sad an' a grievin':
What tickles them Yale poets
Leaves me sad an' a grievin':
Never seen no Birch trees
On a snowy evenin'.
Then Oxford poets got they poems
An' I gots mine...
So I'll be movin' on, Langston
Movin' down the line....
Michael Ellis