Short Sham Poems
Short Sham Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Sham by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Sham by length and keyword.
Good governance?
With all those killings?
And wish for potent alliance;
Then be a serf of sham dealings.
10.13.16
I can love you like Rumi did to Sham,
but, I'm very bad at setting examples
- I cannot marry you my daughter to keep you close to me..................................
I am not political,
I am poetical,
as the first is a sham and the latter,
a sincere "I am."
Wear the mask
Graffiti tunnel
Windy inside
Worse above
Pretty defaced message
Spray paint tired
Isolated crowd
Echoed shroud
Subjugated love
Tread enraged
Rotting beneath
Porcelain crown
With every religion…
to share in the blame
Masking out God,
in costumes of shame
Seeking to own
what they can’t understand
A covetous folly
—a heavenly sham
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2019)
Happiness is fake
It's an illusion made by...
Those who see the world
Those who see the world...
See the mistakes made by God
Those who see the world...
See our own darkness
See the darkness in us all...
See, our own mistakes...
The Super-hero swings his sword
Down clang, clang, clang,
It rang, rang, rang,
Went bang, bang, bang
On his foeman’s thick, thick skull.
The publishers commission more
Such tales, tales, tales,
(More sales, sales, sales!)
And males, males, males
Will imagine they’re Conan or Kull.
The Super-hero swings his sword
Down clang, clang, clang,
It rang, rang, rang,
Went bang, bang, bang
On his foeman’s thick, thick skull.
The publishers commission more
Such tales, tales, tales,
(More sales, sales, sales!)
And males, males, males
Will imagine they’re Conan or Kull.
The Super-hero swings his sword
Down clang, clang, clang,
It rang, rang, rang,
Went bang, bang, bang
On his foeman’s thick, thick skull.
The publishers commission more
Such tales, tales, tales,
(More sales, sales, sales!)
And males, males, males
Will imagine they’re Conan or Kull.
Mac gave a ring of pearl to his sugar
She showed the ring to her dad, a jeweler
Termed it as false and fake
Returned quickly to Mac
Mac urged,” Gift of Sham Rock, refuse never”
March 26, 2014
Form: Limerick
Tenth Place win
Contest: Limericks on St. Patrick's day by Andrea
A head's glance
And a soul's dance
Compels a heart's trance
A trance so deep
Reality goes to sleep
And fool's golds drip
Fools fools fools
O how one falls
And the other lies
Then reality reigns
And sorrow rains
Now, suffer the pains.
Trust not love... Again I say.. Hate love.
Oh, what a Sham, a fragile charade..
A hollow masquerade we choose to parade.
Truth submerged in the depths of deceit..
Masks of deception, veiling hearts deplete.
In the shadows we dance, oblivious to the game..
But within the Sham, souls suffer in shame.
Dare we unmask, reveal our truest self?
Or forever be lost... beyond reach... beyond help?
Oh, what a Sham, a fragile charade..
A hollow masquerade we choose to parade.
Truth submerged in the depths of deceit..
Masks of deception, veiling hearts deplete.
In the shadows we dance, oblivious to the game..
But within the Sham, souls suffer in shame.
Dare we unmask, reveal our truest self?
Or forever be lost... beyond reach... beyond help?
Pull the wool over our eyes
Exploit your bully pulpit
Ha, ha! Even ‘Wooly Bully’
is relatively young ~
It's not the culprit
___________________________
'Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs'
were a 'one-off' pop group of the
mid-1960's. Their hit was titled
'Wooly Bully,' some kind of dance.
When you came
I kissed the thunder
under the over-bridge
of Tiger passing plaza
The tea smoked the pains of
mumbling slogans of the passersby
On the neck of the naked sky
the toxic lips of white clouds
dappled the bloodshed napkins
No room for memory to reap
the chain in the yellow book
to recall the stolen verses of trunks
By the cadence of borrowed emotion
now everything is the bubbles of dew
© Mahtab Bangalee/Feb'25
at times,
I wish to unspin the sun’s thread—
to weave again the days I’ve torn,
perfect each flaw, unmake each thorn,
and paint life’s griefs in golden stead.
but maybe, the sky must bruise to bloom,
the rain must fall to birth perfume;
perhaps the soul learns more by breaking,
and beauty sleeps in hearts still aching.
so let it be—
this endless sea of rise and rest,
of grief and gain, of trial and test;
for life, in all its flawed design,
remains a miracle—divine.