Short Sickle Poems
Short Sickle Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Sickle by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Sickle by length and keyword.
peck, peck, pecka peck
no one is spared Death’s sickle
silence rules the roost
09.21.2021
The hammer rises
The sickle moves to mow down…
Ukraine Europe’s shield
The USSR reborn
Never did disintegrate.
© Harry J Horsman 2022
sank said sickle head.i go off in the bed.wed head was dead and
instituted.polluted and shooted,i go 44,magnavore was killing me,not anymore.
Old Father Time offered for sale
Used scythes Death designed to impale
The demos were free
But if you ask me
Those buyers looked woefully pale!
Feeling uninspired
Walking the mire
Out of my bones
From drugs at last
Sickle not seen
Or ivory cast
Baby I’m blessed
You I will not get past
On the metamorphic I sprouted
Sun and snow I braved;
With sickle I was weaned
Pain of pressing who can stand?
Let no one envy me:
Wine in King's glass.
I wish for the loving caress of his sickle blade, the whispering touch of his bony hand, to be
wrapped in his cloak of darkness in his loving embrace.
Form:
sickle moon moves slyly
slices dark clouds in dim sky
stars sprout to light up
sore mind shreds life in its grip
divine soul wakes up to heal
I once knew a man named Nickles
who road on a bike with a Sickle
He did it so nice, that he did it twice.
Now, he's in a barrel of pickles.
When was the last time
you heard "butter brickle"
or saw the hammer and sickle
I'll bet you a wooden nickel
it's about the last time
you ate a non-kosher pickle!
Be not a slave of a bigoted mind
With crafty heart that's so unkind
For its tyranny will enslave your soul
Like a sickle that will rip apart your goal
July 15, 2023
life is fickle
a bit like a pickle
it will cost a nickel
for a hammer and sickle
i have a freckle on my face
now give me a tickle
life is fickle
just like a pickle.
A drug-smuggling dribbler is in a pickle
Commie LeBron is acting quite fickle
She should rot in a gulag
With this self-oppressed snob
Until they choke on the hammer and sickle
Snowman spoons we tenderly made,
Some looked sickle and some looked spade;
Snowmen on cocoa hot,
Lay forethought spot forgot;
On each, our kitten made a raid…!
29 November 2022
Trickle of Hammer and Cycle
Down theory there has been a trickle,
And are afraid of hammer and sickle;
Trump frown,
World renown,
And again as usual we are in a pickle.
Jim Horn
Where the poet died
while writing what,
His hand gone by
for what he thought
Were no more words
than what he got
from on his page
as just a jot
where sickle made
was Reaper Sought!
waves of golden wheat
interspersed with red poppies
falling to sickle
first Place Winner: A Brian Strand 2 to 5 lines Contest-8/23/21
Third Place: JCB Brul- Traditional Haiku-6/5/20
Marma laid there, endured Pop’s tickle
Marm got even, swung the sickle
These days, Pop’s a bit less fickle
Stares at Marma’s jar of pickles
—————
H/T to Gershon's Let Your Hair Down
A man found himself in a pickle
When his girlfriend found he was fickle
He said "won't you stay"
She said "there's no way"
As she took his head off with a sickle.
Josette Key 2010
erect climbing n trailing
serrated edges of budding
love /deciduous wind
pollinates /epidermal out growths
sickle shaped hooks of torture
vestigial flicker of delight
browsing at the end of a meadow
Form:
Union of my fingers
In the hand
Soviet a fist!
On the sovereign's body
Yet why
Do I
H
I
T
My feet?
I remembered
I gotta get a hammer
and
Hang up
My father's sickle
On the republic's stable wall.
The field of forgiveness lies ripe and golden,
But my sickle has been broken
By the durity of time
And its unrelenting chime
Marking each kilometer
Until, at last, golden harvest is threshed by the Reaper.
Death waits at the garden gate, his sickle is shining and sharp,
Martyrs better not be late, or they won’t get a bloody harp. Brian Strand
Contest Name SUCCINCT a single TWO line verse/any theme
Russian flag is a hammer and sickle
Now their president is in a pickle
Down the stairs, a messy heap
Making threats he cannot keep
Vladimir Putin's not worth a nickel.
Written December 10, 2022
pale silver sickle
hangs in the grey velvet sky~
a silent vigil.
stars begin to gleam
tiny diamonds scattered far~
a guide in darkness.
gentle light descends
touching sleepy, dreaming earth~
a hushed, soft embrace.