Short Shotgun Poems
Short Shotgun Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Shotgun by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Shotgun by length and keyword.
Elegant
short
choppy
dialogue
War
women
bullfights
and wine
Early morning
backyard
shotgun
a perfect ending
.
once
the
sneak
peak
twice
the
sneak
peak
thrice
the
shotgun wedding
*the bard doth know
peek vs "peak"
Daddy got the shotgun
Daddy got the shotgun
Made it make the noise
chick chunk
Daddy pulled the trigger
Daddy pulled the trigger
goodbye....
Form:
they hear the pop
and they wop
they hear bang
those brids hum and sing
run with there gang
to the sun
in the hearld
SHOTGUN AND BRILDS
I learnt to ride
many years ago,
upon a mare
who was rather slow!
Dear old Fruitgum
became a great chum,
each Saturday hack,
riding shotgun at the back!
When Farmer Brown’s daughter grew busty,
The men pulling turnips grew lusty.
Brown then had to choose
Which shotgun to use
If one of those hands proved untrusty.
A Shotgun Gleaming
Spent Shells make noise in the forceful wind
Bodies lay lifeless
Note: Still learning how to create haikus feedback and help much appreciated!
Odd thoughts ramble in place of sleep,
I need a shotgun, not counting sheep,
to make night-time dread
snore with the dead,
if slumber will ever be mine to keep.
Miss Wild
With child
Not wed
To Ted
Dad mad
You cad!
Loads gun
Says, son
Wed her
You cur
If not
Buckshot
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
It's amazing to sight the birds fly
from the sky to the trees,
From the trees to the sky...!
But it's sad to sight
the fierce shots
of the shotgun that hunts them... !
A pleasant memory
I learnt to ride
many years ago,
upon a mare
who was rather slow!
Dear old Fruitgum
became a great chum,
each Saturday hack,
riding shotgun at the back!
Whatever happens, happens
I leave it all up to God
I'm riding this life shotgun
Fate is at the wheel
Date written and posted: 03/18/2019
A Shot
A shot
A bang
Too hot
He sang
Too cold
She yelled
So bold
They shelled
A shotgun
To full
“The fun,
“Not dull
“Makes me
“Happy to be”
Written on January 14, 2020
Arabs are wondering what fool
They can shoot on their way to school
The Yanks do not care
As they shoot their share
Ensuring the NRA rule
* Title courtesy Dick "Shotgun" Cheney
Eyes............predator
Shotgun
Horny
Penalty box.....fuzzy handcuffs......locks
Risky.......stop
Hunter.......Balls
Bigfoot lense
Dog........wolf
Hiding......waiting
Short skirt.......cold
Form:
Red raw
Featureless flesh
No eyes to see
No nose to smell
A hole for a mouth
Tubes to feed and breathe…
…Survivor of shotgun suicide*
For Ann's Suicide contest
*based on a tragic photograph I once saw
its a long night
city bright lights
look up
ball in the cup
as clock tick
come down quick
mabe cold be bold
dress
don't look a mess
and don't run
less hear a shotgun
ITS
NEW YEARS EVE
FUN
Does not always smell gunpowder
Even
The license Double-barreled shotgun
Hanging with the deer
on the wall
But if the gun
Be translated into any language alive.
The smell of death
#mostafa_ghalandarzadeh
Ride
shotgun,
by inches
a bit closer.
Been waiting for it,
this day trip to the beach.
Waves lapping at my ankles
sooth me with their repetition.
The Sun allows me to forget stress,
recharge my batteries, and keep going.
Golden arrow hits its mark
releasing love pheromones
attraction is imminent
wedding or shotgun
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Fifth Place Winner ~ "Winged Cupid” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Dr. Ram Mehta
April 16, 2011
Gunshots ring out
Too many bodies to count
Running and hiding
While bullets keep firing
Blood sprays
Where bodies lay
Going to the light
Because of gun rights
But my question is this,
Is your right worth the crimes those commit?
In a nearby village, a man unfurled his manifesto of machinations.
Shotgun blasts echoed the summit until he turned,
cheeks flashing in the biting cold.
A bouquet of flower petals,
explosive roses frozen in time,
sculpture at the snap of one’s fingers.
Joy is like a bowl of fun,
Joy is not like a shotgun.
Joy is like a kitten born,
Joy is like the sun that's warm.
Joy is the sky that comes with clouds,
Joy is like a cat that meows.
Joy is a car that goes really fast,
Joy is a bird that's flying past.
ticks on my back
saying knock knock knock
no joke
wood ticks no doubt
deep woods varmints
burrowing in
biting me with gusto
heads buried beneath my skin
making me crazy
go get my Uzi,
my shotgun, my scalpel, my pen
I have a poem idea and it is a win.
I’m riding shotgun in her car
as we drive through the night
neath Neil Armstrong’s moon
radio plays that Animal’s song
but San Francisco's almost as
far from this humid Oklahoma
night as Neil Armstrong’s cold
moon yet maybe I’ll get
past second base tonight.