Short Shackled Poems
Short Shackled Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Shackled by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Shackled by length and keyword.
Pinioned by chains of reason,
Shackled by rational thought,
We’re victims of what we believe,
And of all the lies we’re taught.
Chains shackled slaves of the past until their death.
Todays slaves are enslaved until their grave, not with chains, but with debt.
Oh with her sweet smile
I was taken prisoner,
cry of the castle
shackled to chains of desire
captive hopelessly in love.
© Harry J Horsman 2013
Prisoner of the
cursed phrase
shackled by the terms
Sentenced with each damning
breath
— inmate of what’s heard
(Dreamsleep: June, 2024)
hidden not to elicit
a trifle response
spiteful mordacious
shackled on a horde race
cartridge loiter about the ground
wizened with years
4/3/2017
How silent lies a lone ghost ship
that lists, tethered to its mooring
having run aground inside a
dying dream, now distant.
Written on 3/28/2018
And don’t make your hand
Shackled to your neck niggardly
Nor stretch it forth
To its utmost bigheartedly
Otherwise you will have disgrace
And become penniless.
Shackled by thoughts.
Words flow and
drown all interactions.
An obsessive hunt
for the truth
of my existence.
Constantly beaten
by the demons
of introspection.
confined,
shackled in chains,
there isn’t an exit sign;
how can a person escape their,
own mind.
Contest:QUIN-TO
Sponsor:Brian Strand
11/19/2020
Seeking Truth in the universe.
A resurgence of the soul.
Rendering the past.
A prophesy of the future
In which sexism is no longer shackled by the promotion of disparaging men.
Trump had a gone which was loaded
And after an accident it exploded
He then ran around ram shackled
By other side he had been tackled
Run for President he was goaded.
James Horn
He is wizened, shackled to the horde,
Trifle deaf, he would loiter use mordacious words,
Owned cartridge of film that would elicit laughter.
06/04/2017
Contest: eight word contest.
Value Of Life, A Question
Were I wizened, not shackled to mordacious horde,
I'd not loiter to elicit trifle rewards,
With my one cartridge, could I, end life sadly bored?
April 5th, 2017
harsh reality thrust into dreams
potential shackled to ignorance,
drugs, violence, poverty and neglect
innocent souls forever stained
no roadmap out of the abyss
unheard cries, unwiped tears
a lament for forgotten yesterday
a muted sigh for a vanished past
what becomes of a new tomorrow
what remains of this inert today
shackled by nostalgia
searching
ever searching
for that other, better way
Form:
Blue
Divine
Shine
Madonna and Child
Suffocate the Papal decreed
Sowed the seeds
Indoctrinated godly status
Art distorted the power courted
For Church convention
Hidden shackled
Never to tackle
shackled
daily wager
sweat of brow not so sweet
muscle and sinews strain, work out
to earn dough for bread, and to work out, too
cyclic diurnal grind of life
cliched, i know, but true
god's creation
enchained
Going Home
In a place I don't belong
Shackled to this others call home
Drinking of the water of affliction
I just want to go home
Death in secret I can't turn
In a vessel destined to burn
I just want to go home
Old Wounds
As if shackled to the bench
the wizened loiter, a mordacious horde,
prone to ellicit lies that trifle
with an empty cartridge chamber.
©3/25/2017
Submitted to – Eight word challenge – Poetry Contest
Are you living your life authentically
Truly being who you are meant to be
Did you falter along lifes path
Stepping off on another’s behalf
Is your spirit shackled yearning to be free
Are you living authentically?
Pull this knotted string to
loosen the hold
The links in the chain
twist and tangle regardless
Asked to wear this
shackled existence
So shiny
So pretty
Yet, so empty
and lifeless
you can't even feel
me pulling
Energy crackled, it danced in your heart
Start shackled, a pony show to start
Always heckled, danger to the part
Inside freckled, riddled with bad art
Unleashed, cackled, daggers to your heart
Freedom, tackled, killed you with mine
As a societal pariah,
am I not deserving a grand denouement?
When my tale reaches zenith,
will I be shackled,
by the abhorrent atrocities,
your accursed kind has wrought,
upon my tempestuous form?
Light my pyre,
I need a tan.
Eight wizened words to elicit thoughts mordacious.
Not shackled to the horde, a trifle bit audacious.
The cartridge to loiter, waiting, bored, to fire out rhymes vexatious.
March 23 2017. For John Hamilton's Eight word challenge.
What ills you elicit with your mordacious tongue
shackled am I, while you trifle with my love.
You horde my affections with a cartridge of conceit
then loiter in self pity as I, wizened, exit with relief.
Written on 3/28/2017