Short Skewer Poems
Short Skewer Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Skewer by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Skewer by length and keyword.
Athlete kabob meat to skewer
Olympic games meet the sewer
Those ratings too flat
Create new dangers that
Pander to the TV viewer
I don't wish to sound an alarm
But ladies are losing their charm
My thingamabob
Appears shish kabob
And they aim to skewer the farm!
Too many kabobs
to skewer
plus bone-dry ribs.
Me? I’ll stay
with pink lemonade
and watch
the turbid sky
and watch
the stars reload
And so study
serious stockades a
stick up their collective
In the legend of one,William Tell
an archer& Swiss-born rebel
Such accuracy & skilled know-how
but,to an Austrian hat would not bow.
So had to skewer an apple on his son's head
this obedient lad trembled &said
keep your eye's open father,please
& dear Papa,do not do not, sneeze
Doth fancy edges
not only for riches
smooth wealth of finish
leave the rest to timish
tangled mind blemish
thou art has yet to fetch
one most desired edge
leave the rest to dredge
spike with a smooth skewer
and let it be to fewer
taste of mind such viewer
brings the sky yet bluer
Before you hire that cleaner,
Check their pockets for 3 things that will get your house cleaner.
A wooden toothpick will get rid of the gunk that stops your taps being cleaner,
A wooden oven skewer has a longer reach to make an oven cleaner,
A tooth brush to work its magic to get clean even cleaner.
It's like grinding-
Thistle-lips when speaking--
Trying to trample,
'Assumption'
Told us melancholy
With which; I wear
Knives-as-skin.
My Cerebellum-doesn't
Know-how-to
--Connect?
Channeling changes,
You'd rather see
Becomes me.
I listen sideways; stepping
Speech--
I'd eat bramble branches
For impediments of you.
Screaming red-raw-thorns
As they skewer-
My throat.
I giggle blisters instead.
The leaves they fall like dancing blades,
Forever spinning among the glades.
Glinting like knives they slice and skewer,
Lilting as they reach the sewer.
Carrying them down in rivers of muck,
They run in such numbers, utterly amok!
Emptying into my yard of thorns,
To be put in a pile forever scorned.
They rot, and decay, for hours a day.
Never relenting, never going away.
I watch them as they turn into grass.
Relieving this world finally, at last.
Form:
Towering high the pine tree spies
Darkness gleaming across the skies.
All-embracing limbs it reaches
In all directions it beseeches.
Yearning for ominous actions to end
Locked they hide; secretly they offend.
Veiled is the door guarding treacherous fate
Never exposing; hold and isolate.
Looming colossal to pointed peak
Shadows adorn branches yearning to speak.
Piercing the court’s air the almighty giant cries
Wind: Roar. Needles: Skewer. Nothing it denies.
Kebabs with sumac garnish
fit for an Angel
veal onions eggplant squash add
cherry tomatoes
place onto skewer
charcoal grill
baste !