Short Sentries Poems
Short Sentries Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Sentries by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Sentries by length and keyword.
Hover, above me
I see myself below, still
Arms reached out, floating
Dark hooded sentries, shuffle
Entering, safe, distant light
Proud and tall foot soldiers ~
Militia colours out lined up standing guard.
Multicolour snapdragon line our pathway.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Titans tilting, tangibly human windmills
Swaying sentries, harboring haloed witness
Lofted coal mines, timber canary cages
Whispers from redwoods
Bite Size Poem no34 Poetry Contest
Smiling down on His creation,
evergreen sentries gave Him peace.
Turquoise lake held the reflection
of Rocky Mountains with snow’s fleece.
Nature’s beauty is leased to man
by an Artist with a loving plan
Dogs
loyal, friendly
licking, playing, rescuing
companions, sentries, threats, enemies
barking, biting, mauling
mean, mangy
Curs
Sentries stationed at the height
Celestial wayfarers of the night
Dancing damsels with the light
Fading phantoms at Phoebes’ sight
Placed First
A Strand's (1064) Poetry Contest
Sponsor. Brian Strand
Jutting far beyond date palms and dunes,
East of somewhere and west of nowhere,
Bound by rocks along sparse vegetations,
Endless rows of towering tors and ridges,
Lonely backdrop against cloudless skies,
Silent sentries amidst desolate wasteland.
English Gazal:
(RADIF:AT NIGHT)
(KAFIA:surrounds,rounds,hounds,sounds)
Darkness surrounds at night
Sentries take rounds at night
Night is exclusively meant for owls
Remain awake hounds at night
When everything is calm and drowsy
Jackals make strange sounds at night
Freshly liberated from an overgrown bushy trail,
I saw myself skimming waist-deep in Lavender,
Sentries to the rear, Hollyhocks, and Foxgloves,
Bougainvillea to the left and, to the right of me,
Chose a meadow of Prairie Smoke and Daisies,
Held at a water lily pond airs Rainbow butterfly.
Who are these people?
Faces posted on the web
by family and friends and others.
People I haven't got a clue to who
but someone in my list knows them well.
Oh well,
I scroll the list and all its entries
wondering if they are mere sentries
in the running faces streamed
of the tangled internet hub of history scenes.
my mind is a jumble,
a kaleidoscope of colors
capturing me so I cannot escape,
each time I look for a door,
I am stopped by a force of
Crayola sentries holding onto
spear-like paint brushes
threatening to insert me into
a jumbo coloring book where
I will turn into a mindless
page of fill-in-the-blanks with
a picture to color
Stoic sentries mourn the scarecrow’s plight
entombed within a world slow turned to stone
yet instinct will demand they soon take flight
into a distant loneliness they’ve known.
Bent trees will sing the hymns of his demise
iced winds consume his breathless final sighs.
©9/29/2019
Make IT Six Poetry Contest
Joseph May – sponsor
photo #2
Where they laid my love to rest there are crows -
two sentries standing at the large white cross
which marks his grave. I shout as chill wind blows:
Show me, my Love, how I can bear this loss.
To heaven soar above, dark-feathered birds.
Deliver to him my beseeching words!
Sept. 30, 2019 for Joseph May's Make It Six Poetry Contest
PICTURE #2
your frightened sense is enough,
valor-wrapped
in braincell’s guts,
and this
because -
(two clicks watch)
one
man just went; and
I have drenched
your two dry sentries'
arteries
in a blood-shot tide.
precious rises
time and pressure
presses the vena cava;
will you split-run
at zero hours,
or lie alive,
(save one pump)
and bunk with
penitence?
Ancient ruins stand alone,
tired sentries over ancient lands;
they watch and remember their glory days.
Testaments to their builders;
do they ever wish a glorious revivification?
History tells their stories when
they need them heard but,
the, “horses mouth” can tell them better.
Visit them and share their lives;
they do love company.
VIGILANTES
The elder trees stretch skyward in a lace of silent bark. Wands of rising branches become dancing silhouettes in the pale moonlight. The wind dies, and the limbs cease their movement. Then, like sentries they stand perfectly still, silencing the clocks.
trees their vigil keep
whisper secrets to the wind
moonlight filters down
Old sentries standing guard for centuries
Exposed rocky ledges staring outward
Like true natives with rugged determination,
Nature's hieroglyphics in emerald green
Reflect gold splintered sparkling gems
High above savage river's ragged edges,
Far below the sounds of rapids whooshing
Unaware the circling echo of eagle overhead.
written February 13, 2022
If life was a game of cards
I would choose the Ace of Spades
And march on like a Crusade
I would move from Hand to Hand
And become like a Jack of all Trades
Then I would pick the Queen of Hearts
And dress her up in Clubs or Flowers
I would build a castle of Hard Rock Diamond
And send the pack of sentries
In six and nine and twenty
All around they would march
Till we all fell down like a pack of cards
smoke curls,
dividing us
into lonely
sentries by the fire,
as we watch the embers die,
in silence
black words
drifting upwards
from the ashes,
cast shadows on the moon
stinging the eyes of the night
with despair
__________________________________________________
For the contest sponsered by Nette: "Views from a Vignette"
Carrie Richards 10/30/12 note: "fire" used as two syllables)
Grown Up
I weep
now and then
simple things
a song lyric or
an old photo
touching me
in raw places
sliding past
thinking parts
that used to be
sentries at the gate
protecting me
from hot-wired
exposure to myself
instead
defenseless in the
heat of contemplation
glacial walls melt
frozen anguish and
freeze-dried pleasures
transform
set in motion
once again
animated
newly weightless and
simply passing through...
I wait by the mine
Outside the camp.
Between us, the pinyons
Slash and partition
Your fire, like fence posts.
They keep me at bay.
Here in the shadows,
I think I know you.
But, in the flame of life,
You dance with all.
I won't be to you
One other to twirl.
If you should feel
The pull of the silence,
The call of a private heart,
You'll venture beyond
The grove of sentries.
Then we together
Might prospect for gold.
I saw a man who is
insane
whose wife divorced
him
his only son
abandoned him
living a life in a fast
lane
I saw a lady whose
husband
loved that much that
he forgot
his scruples because
of what passed
through his gut
frankly dying with a
wedding band
I saw a girl paralyzed
by a disease
sitting while giggling
as she sentries other
kids
acting the role of
queens and kings
hoping for a miracle
while dying at ease.
The poplar trees stood like sentries
Standing on one leg in their green
Uniformed grandeur. Beyond their
Phalanx could be seen a stately
Manor whose imported marble
Pillars were more decorative
Than utile. Not unlike the sole
Inhabitant who lies dying
In his magnificent antique
Breton bed. He never married-
“I’m too busy for such nonsense.”
Consequently, no progeny,
No living relatives, no one
Only a dreadful eulogy:
Alone died a poor man, indeed!
The sun-bleached exoskeletons
of old dead trees stand like sentries
along the towpath riverfront
exfoliated and gangling.
In a former age they stood tall,
grandiose to all passerby’s
but they too are dead to recall
their once impressive colossi.
Eventually these remains
will meet their final destinies:
to fall-never to rise again-
among forgotten progenies;
yet many springs have passed since then
each sprouted trees, time and again.
Burning desert sands release their ghostly waves of heat; specters in pastoral sunlight; dancing gauzy haunts on the air. Cacti sentries in green uniform guard the growing dunes, as a brown lizard limps in a faint haze, to escape flying sands. In this lively desert more goes on than the onlooker will realize; don’t stay too long or you could become one of the haunts!
dry and dusty sands
blow and regroup into mounds-
traveling the winds