Short Shuffles Poems
Short Shuffles Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Shuffles by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Shuffles by length and keyword.
Sure Enough, The "Aces Up"
.... Scores Taste Knows, Victory!
Shuffles Sum, Of Victories .. Won;
Feat's Work That Distance, .. Brings!
SINS AFTER MIDNIGHT
dig deeper dagger
whilst i hold the golden stake
crowd shuffles nervously
cautiously applauding
sins whispered in the dark
Kim Rodrigues ©Feb 2017
Oscar madness causes me to write!
night
sighs deep
shuffles listless feet
yawns and stretches
scratches an invisible itch
fumbles with some change
drops another shiny quarter
in tonight’s slotted half-moon
nods with sleepy approval
and drifts back
to sleep
snow-topped zeniths rise
iced water softly shuffles…
sky a grumpy shade
1ST Place Contest Winner
Written: March 3rd, 2022
H Forms - Traditional Nature Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
On the paths and lawns of the park,
Crisp and brightly coloured leaves are falling.
The surrounding trees look bare,
Only a few leaves clinging to their branches.
Before the leaves are swept up and burnt,
Everyone shuffles through them,
Rustling as they walk.
a meandering breeze shuffles starlight
while a serenade whispered moves to tears a low hanging moon
~ the goodnight kiss lingers
AP: 2nd place 2022
Submitted on July 13, 2022 for contest A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE sponsosred by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 5TH
He shuffles along the leaf covered path
slowly dragging in his wake
the full weight of old age.
-------------------------------------------
Contest: One Kimo
Sponsor: Rick Parise
Placed 2nd
© 9th October, 2016
The curio shop
Where no one will stop,
Lives in its yesterday-dust;
A grandfather’s clock,
An earthenware crock,
And Time’s faintest aroma of must.
The brass button trays,
The bright feather sprays,
Languish like lovers ignored.
The years are for sale,
The bargains all fail,
And Time shuffles by, looking bored.
Form:
The curio shop
Where no one will stop,
Lives in its yesterday-dust;
A grandfather’s clock,
An earthenware crock,
And Time’s faintest aroma of must.
The brass button trays,
The bright feather sprays,
Languish like lovers ignored.
The years are for sale,
The bargains all fail,
And Time shuffles by, looking bored.
Hammer down the scent of eau de cologne, mist or splash;
and her laugh.
It is infectious?
Is it poison or supple?
I can smell love as the velichor shuffles!
Glasses lean far down his nose;
eyes clink glass.
She airs a heart shape.
Like knocking knees, the shelves; lesser books need smelling salts.
Seems he’s stiff, but in admiration, he kneels.
all were seen
seen walking
down in slow
shuffles of
feeling down
down the street
music played
with a somber
melody as if
trumpets were
crying and the
trombone moaning
but at the place the
resting place where
lowered down the music
turned up
beat and
everyone
clapped
and sang
shake
that thang
in a jazz
funeral in
Pennsylvania
Form:
SPRING
Imagined days of the warmer kind
As Spring glances nervously behind
Echoes of frost still haunt each day
As Spring glances nervously behind
Sensing winter’s cold icy fingers
As Spring glances nervously behind
Winter’s reluctance to surrender
As Spring glances nervously behind
Winter now slowly shuffles away
As Spring glances nervously behind
Man created her,
And man destroyed her.
Now mother nature is taking over.
The wind shuffles the bones.
The tree branches reform her.
She is made anew.
She will walk among men.
Doing what must be done,
Righting what was wrong,
And doing what no others will do.
She was once human,
But now she is not.
Reformed from what was once dead,
And she can never be stopped...
Stunted
Head bowed
He shuffles along
Scared he might stumble
Hesitant
Hands twitchy
He drags himself
Terrified of all around
Powerless
Eyes nervous
He glances erratically
Intimidated by people passing
Haunted
By memories
He turns around
Glancing back at time
Staring at an incident, an act of man
That crippled his emotions as only a human can.
Form:
a
single,
beautiful,
clear, golden note
starts a symphony,
and a fresh, new Spring bud
becomes a pretty flower.
an acorn grows into an oak,
just as a young lad once made a life.
but that's only half of the story.
even an oak's limbs one day dry,
and a blossom's petals drop.
when the music's over,
the glory lingers
as an old lad
wistfully
shuffles
out.
Slipping silently, serenely sober,
Somnambulist seeking some solitude
Shuffles, self-styled, still sleeping so soundless
Solitary search--simply solipsist.
Some sadder simpleton slipped severely,
Searching so silently, supposedly,
Slipped solemnly, sidestepped suddenly!
FIRST PLACE WINNER
March 23, 2021
Entered "Seeking Solitude Alliteration" Contest
Sponsored by JCB Brul
Watching people walk on the street.
Tells so much about who they are.
The hurried with their great strides.
Those shifty eyed and guilty shuffles.
The high noses with stuffy little steps.
Waitresses with their swinging hips.
The care full who first test the water.
But crowds will part like the dead sea.
For one with the Italian shoe swagger!
date:9/1/2019
contest: swagger
sponsor: Line Gautier
The broken shell began to crack
opening up into a whole new world
moving around shuffles where pieces became connected
Fused by energy radiating out from sunshine
whispering warmly sweet radiance bringing life to darkness
dove of a thousand memories floating within wings
Captured once upon a time oceans mist
where the rainbow's arch held love beautiful
embraced through the heart scented gift
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oVPqkv7awgI
The symphony of morning plays on
strings of a quartet unloose like the sun
on your window sill, by morning rise
Listen to the sweet music as it plays
blooming all your flowers
as they dance on your crystal vase
Hear the silence of his steps as he shuffles
hugging his violin, he plays on and on
just for you, listen to him, won't you ?
I've always wished
to live on an island.
No problem with sacrificing
deceit and shallow dialogue
for the song of gull and sanity.
Bowls of lye and cold
for pans of warmth
the soothing sand.
Older now, I can see the dream
emerging from the waves.
My winged circle shrinks to a point of decay
love fades and hope shuffles away.
Careful what you wish for old man.
A wish may blossom into a John Doe grave.
The forest of limitless green,
The spill of red blood,
The rite of sunrise,
White pantaloons to turn away the sun:
An elephant shuffles along
swaying side to side.
He is swathed in red.
The rider sways in his howdah.
His eyes squint at the Asian sun.
Somewhere in the forest
a sadhu is chanting.
Monkeys are silent.
The prince on his calm beast
follows a path much trodden.
The insects swarm
with indifference.
Dappled sunlight filters
Through emerald green leafs
Some of them translucent
And hang like summers eves
I lean against a tupelo tree
And whittle on a stick
Alone at last it seems
But the cacophony of sound
Is deafening in the woods
For life is all around
A box turtle waddles through the grass
A fox is on the run
A wood thrush shuffles among the fallen leafs
A hawk is on the wing
Yet peace is all I feel
Because God is everywhere
Toddler wanders
With unsteadiness,
Then darts and dashes
Tripping over less.
Skipping and hopping
Jumping on one foot,
Strutting, parading
All to whom will look.
Pacing to and fro
Trekking on a hike
Going far in distance
Jogging-motion-fight
Sprinting, rushing race
Running for ones life,
Sore muscles shuffles
Hobbles awkward strife.
Here I've stopped and still
Body kinda beat though
Interesting yes to
Wonder walking feet.
I wake up to the bright sun
Wondering if I'm alive or dead
My muscles ache and burn
As pain racks my throbbing head
I see that I am a bloody mess
And rise to my feet
I stand there feeling blessed
Under the sun's heat
I grab and pull my mask away
As I turn and look down
And there it is dead under the sun's ray
The creature laying on the ground
Confused I fall to my knees
As my brown hair shuffles in the breeze
To Be Continued...
The porch is wrapped in glittered shroud
As windows teeter in the breeze
Here, only bright sighs are allowed
Across panes, hour's gentlesr breeze.
While toileLike shuffles of a weary tree.
Dim lanterns cut through brightened shade
With moonlight glowing starlit white
And blossoms petals... inter-laid
In meditation, I find light.
..................
Written 2/2/2019
Carolyn Devonshire’s My Place Multi-Part Easter Contest