Short Shape Up Poems
Short Shape Up Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Shape Up by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Shape Up by length and keyword.
be neat going walk a beat
shape up
do this stuff
get it clean
look like a mag drream
for a buck
get a
HAIR CUT
to thoses who made away
listen say
thinks its not kink
tho theyer gone
they shape up the tone
they ring a bell
say
FAREWELL
My heart aches for something more,
I long when I wake up,
I need to shape-up,
This feeling has been so prominent,
That I no longer remember why more remains dominant.
Once there was a man called Hitler, the good
“Shape-up or die” his great ethics for good
Remove inhibitions by exposing to light
Fire shyness and inferior thinking out
Bloody this Hitler executes dull minds! Good.
In the dark
Is where you will find yourself
If you do not shape up
And get some help
Avoid hanging around bad company
For they are the ones who bring you down
There is a cloudy scenery
You will fall right to the ground
I taught my ex to fight a bit,
she'd shape up and throw punches quick,
when we had an argument,
she would jump up throwing punches thick,
sortof broke me up to see,
some fisticuff 4 me ...
cos laughter ended it....
re:
"Fight like a man" Cory long
Don
There was an old coot named Clyde Hugaday
Who hugged gals in a most passionate way!
This didn't please his spouse
And she warned the old louse
He'd best shape up or there'd be hell to pay!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
There was an old coot named Clyde Hugaday,
Who hugged gals in a most passionate way!
This didn't please his spouse,
And she warned the old louse,
He'd best shape up or there'd be hell to pay!
Entry for Viv Wigley's "Traditional Limerick" Contest
For the story
I would ruin it—
just to write it.
I'd be ruthless,
less private, shape up
my front porch,
sharpen these claws
on concrete
images—
metaphorically speaking
imagine
how to re-frame
bad guys,
wrench in a plot twist,
unmask villains' masquerading
makeup—
maybe even
find
myself.
Why for we seem so wise
yet act so foolishly;
Why so we create laws
for others to follow
saying,look I know best
forb those other fellows;
It's for your greater good
shape up,hera what I say,
It's much the better way;
I've given this some thought
(but not as much as I ought);
What about me, you say?
What I do privately
is,not for you to see;
Why for we seem so wise
yet act so foolishly;
I got chills, they're multiplying
And my joints loose control
Coz the fire of the pain inside
It's electrifying!
Better shape up
Coz I need a life
And this life can turn on you...
I better shape up
Coz I need to stand
And my heart beats fast for two
You're the fit one I want - someone else's body
Ooh hoo hoo honey
You're the fit one I want someone else body
You hoo hoo
New body I need
Find me one please...!
I Got Chills
I got chills, they're multiplying
And my joints loose control
Coz the fire of the pain inside
It's electrifying!
Better shape up
Coz I need a life
And this life can turn on you...
I better shape up
Coz I need to stand
And my heart beats fast for two
You're the fit one I want - someone else's body
Ooh hoo hoo honey
You're the fit one I want someone else body
You hoo hoo
New body I need
Find me one please...!
Pru was trying to keep the purple and yellow caterpillar safe.
But he refused to be socialized, kept running off.
So Pru put him back into the grass and tried to socialize a snake.
He sneakily slithered off, giving out a small cough.
Pru was irritated now. For she wanted to boss something.
She finally found a mama’s boy to train and shape up.
He thought she was wonderful and took orders like a hero.
She and mama are both bossy; hard to say who wins the cup.
Shagged in the back of a shotgun shack
at night by moonlight
peeping past curtains of burlap sack
such a sore sight
surrounded by fields of green
willing as she'd been
tho' torn
she surely wasn't about to be seen
with a child out of wedlock born
so with a bun in the oven
she had her Dad invite he
who did the dirty deed
and plant the seed
the Father-to-be
down south way out on the steading
to shape up show up and in the end
attend a shotgun wedding
I am opening the new unknown door
With curiosity: What is behind it?
I ask myself: What am I looking for?
And I go on and on, and I can’t quit.
There’s no-one to give me a helping hand.
The creaking door only breaks the dead silence.
I have nor excessive wish or demand,
Things will shape up well, I must be patience…
This door seems to invite me: “Walk into!”
So I cross the doorstep with heavy heart;
I know: I begin everything anew,
And I fear, and wait for the new start…