Short Skull Poems
Short Skull Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Skull by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Skull by length and keyword.
The skull of midnight
Dipped in honey of your soul
(C) rajat kanti chakrabarty
11 December 2014
If I were to take a sledgehammer
Grip it tender but tight
So its iron skull may send
A scathing speech to your sternum
Would bricks take flight,
Or are you truly that dense?
A Monk finds a skull
A skull finds a monk
Both exchanges death
5-5-5
"Whoa - dude, that's really cool!"
Indeed, son, it's something to mull -
fascinating, never dull,
so vast it is incredible,
yet, smaller than a basketball -
the universe inside your skull.
Umm… I’ve got a rather large skull
And
I don’t know why
Where did my big head come from?
Why is it so big?
Do you find it intriguing?
My skull is quite large…
Would you caress it please?
Thanks.
Deep in its eyes
Its pitch black stare
Searching for answers
I will not find there
Arousing no secrets
No conspiracies
In emptiness
Its grinning glare
mocks my humanity
And as I look unto the skull
I realize my destiny
Form:
it was one of the prettiest sugar skulls I had ever seen
I thought tearing it up to eat would be incredibly mean
Hid it in a locked box hope chest of my cousin old Dean
It was given to me by an artist, the Day of the Dead Queen
A wicked wick of tallow lit
witch's sacrifice remit,
smoky tapered candles fit
in a dead man's skull a writ.
Eyes ablaze Satan permits,
the single soul to rest a bit,
and blood runs-- into the pit
in candle light the witches flit.
Thick Skull and Dull
No Powerball Winners. Can you
imagine winning a half a billion
dollars.
Trump surely does have a thick skull;
With an intelligence null who is dull;
Truly tempestuous;
Mind a big mess;
Not only that gathered a lot of gull.
Jim Horn
When I swore
Not to hold the sea in my eyes;
My hands alerted me
to wait another 66 years of fight!
When I swore
Not to hold the wind in my hands;
My eyes drifted me away
To the shore were almond tree
Sleeps tight under my skull
Written by © Fatima Nusairat
it was a day
not unlike this one
when an archaeologist
… sore knees
… paint brush
… Friday fingernails
held my earthen skull
in his hands
and spared me a thought
his dirt-stained eyes
filling my empty sockets
and
for a speck
of epochal dirt
neither of us
heard the sun
Here you lie
On a base
An eternity on
a pillow case
The bringer of joy
and love to all
The start of a holiday
In love we shall fall
How did you become the man
known as Valentine
Start a holiday
That would spur
quite a time
A mere a skull
stuck in a box
A martyrs death
You have surely fallen
LAUGHING SKULL
my arms have breached the white walls
of laughing skull.
i have feasted upon their thoughts
today my plate is empty.
the butler of my brain is tired
but continues to serve a feast.
bleached ribs a xylophone
playing macabre notes.
as my tongue dances inside
the empty hall of my mouth.
:: 03.11.2022 ::
I dreamed my brain was coming loose inside my head because the bones of my skull were separating. I couldn't shake it all back into place, so I got on the bus to go to the hospital, wondering if I should've put ice on my handful of bone parts, including one vertebrae which made me wonder why my head didn't flop over on my shoulder. Then I realized I was on the wrong bus and had no idea where I was.
I found a skull the other day
Was it human? I think no way.
Twenty-two bones, and all of them say
Come on down, honey, we want to play.
It was a merry skull, truly gay.
Rolling along the South Side Bay
In life he told me he was Big Jay
I frankly did not know what to say
Because he was a talkative gray
He told me stories, sure did. Okay?
I found him on the east highway
Decided to keep him, this skull named Jay.
all around Detroit we heard a vrrrooom vrrrooom
It’s a skull on a hog! It spells instant doom!
This was said by a naysayer who is always full of gloom.
I stood by the road to wave at the vrrrooom vrrrooom
It was a skull on a hog with orange streaming hair behind him
He asked if I wanted a ride and I climbed on in.
The grim reaper and Count Dracula were both terrified of him.
I had the best ride of my life, said my cousin Grim.
Joyful frog sat on the rock and bellowed his happy song.
His banjo twanging a rhythm that was totally strong.
Isn’t that part of a human? Isn’t it kind of wrong?
Asked a hippie-like toad who was lighting up a bong.
It might have been part of a human back in the day.
But it has been sitting in the sun, and it’s here to stay.
We must find comfort in whatever we find said a vole.
As he took a swan dive into the skull’s left eye hole.
Through the ages
monkish chapels have erected alters
built from human skulls.
Mystics have understood
that such morbid displays
can lead to a fervor
of jaw-dropping moments.
The human skull reminds us
that death leaves its own gravestones.
Besides,
such boneyard objects de ’art
simply beg to be made into candle holders
or useful paperweights
additionally,
a dislocated mandible
serves as a most adequate rest
for a lit cigar.
she loved me
a man filled with hatred and anxiety
she loved me
and she became my wife
but my actions were sad and dreadful
not fit for that of a free man
but she loved me
and years went by
and my story just kept turning for the worse
why couldn't I just be the man she wanted, she needed
but she loved me
and now we are apart
the anguish and the loneliness prevails
and the only thoughts I have
is she loved me
Beneath the shallow sea,
something rests on the wet
sands, waiting to be discovered
Yes, yes, a horrid skull it is,
with its jaws wide open,
revealing fangs that can only befit
a vampire
Questions haunt my conscience
of whether it's a pirate vampire
or a mermaid vampire.......
Lonely the skull rests on the sea floor,
waiting to open a creepy door
that might frighten the mermaids and fish away
Date: 08/08/2014
Skull man stares at me from the mirror
Instantly, I recognize my mistake
This was a new life
A chance to get things right
This is why we are recycled and reborn right?
Yet here I am, in the same rut as my last lifetime
Making the same erratic, weird, strange choices
Choices that keep me down
Put me down
Squashing me into mud, muck and mire
Skull man makes no sound
Yet I hear his voice
Feel his disappointment
Same again?
Really?
For skull man is me
My skull animates
I see it talking, chewing, chuckling,
Moving right and left
Sometimes with horrible gape
It wants eating everything;
I see and I am wonder of it
People around me also see it
But they take it normally,
They are not bothered
A little bit even indirectly,
They are in eternal oblivion;
How will I be normal?
When I see it bites my own hands,
Cuts into pieces,
Makes me bleeding,
Sometimes I am swooned;
Yet I am alive!
My skull is in animation.
he is evil
a monster in his own right
destined to rule the world
and defeat Captain America
why do we love to hate this man
disguised by a red skull mask
it is peace we yearn for
not the terrifying acts of a mad man
he is the worse horrible human
and he has so many sneaky tricks up his sleeves
but I love to read about him
all his dreadful stories
and tales of suspense
will he ever turn to the good side
this I highly doubt
but we can pray he does
Skulls were sliding down the rapids having so much fun.
Their screams were well seen but eerily silent of course.
They frolic so prettily! Their bodies said, lying in the beach sun.
Suddenly an elongated skull joined them, the skull of a horse.
The equestrian’s mouth opened, showing loads of long teeth.
It’s amazing said the turtles, who were hiding below in the reef.
Skull fever is alive and well in the Seven seas today!
The sea creatures nodded, liking them in every way.