Short Slated Poems
Short Slated Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Slated by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Slated by length and keyword.
fiery opening to underworld
Lucifer’s fire in the night sky
those who were slated to go began to thrash
not sorry to have been corrupt
fearful they had been caught
The truth is outdated
Falsehoods inflated
With hyperbole
created…
Fishing poles baited
wriggling worms slated
to reel in us guppies
addlepated…
It was love at first sight
Everything about her felt so right
Her shape, her motion, her shade of brown
He took her with him to every venue in town
But then, with no more basketball games slated
The love of his life quickly deflated
He is slated as a loser, why?!
By whose standards is that measured by?
By what ambitions he ought to abide?
Is there a normative success guide?
They have excelled but wait a minute -
Their gain is not his loss or is it?
No grace in how much one can consume,
Humble and true is human heirloom.
April 23, 2023
Dither and don't
Wither and won't
Slither away
Pawns dismay
Carols sung on Easter morning
Blasting the cold away
Rustic pieces found daunting
Carries night into day
Won't open the terror door
It seems to squeak a little
You hate but wanting more
Easy with cork in bottle
Errors made
Terrors hated
Rumors abated
Time slated
Russell Sivey
bridge
in deep
woods and lake
of slated stone
he hand carved for her with love, blood and tears
castle of wistful dreams for their romance
in silence stands
memory
cold in
death
Written 21/09/2020
3rd place
Double Tetractys 3 contest
photo 3
Eve Roper sponsored
Syllable count using poetry soup. com syllable counter
The consummation of this
escape
blossoms into unhindered perception;
Naked, amenable gushes of slated clarity
wrack the the bounds of form;
born to change
the metamorphosis of itself
and evolve into the beauty seen
by
your eyes.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
The Pillar Falls
the pillar, an act of craftsmanship
solid, festooned and decorated
beautifully designed and plated,
its each brick hooked and slated,
stood as proud attraction in the chapel.
then, aged with seasons and weathers
craven, cracked and dilapidated
dreadfully deserted and haunted,
its each edge blunt, surface perforated,
fell into a pile of shapeless rubble
They call me cunning but Im only a kid
They call me stunning want to take a bid
I might gamble I might cheat
Lets just skip that beat
I've already confess
My one true purpose
That to gain not give
For I want to live
Slated as a outlaw
Accused as a thief
Why do i bear all this grief
Ha Ha many laugh but they are not true
Accused themselves and all there old world crew
Pressed loudly underfoot
dead leaves fracturing
scattering beneath me.
Warm fragmentary vapor
slated breath steaming
evaporating before me.
Incurious quiet somber
nearly naked trees
standing beyond me.
Advancing dread dusk
day skies sepulcher
entombing above me.
Forlorn and unforgiving
October day ceasing
enveloping me frigidly.
(click the pic for a preview of my upcoming book!)
We are crumbling,
black coal powder cracked beings
tossed upon the stove burning umber red
slated flames rising to yield heat,
an odor bituminous powdery residue
searing the nostrils with ticks and hisses
smoldering glows of white on fading black,
smokey nostalgia that threatens dreams
dark and dank discolorations of blackened powder
as it turns
everything and everyone to dust
unrecognized.
I understand that I will be single
I understand that I'll never find love.
I understand I am slated to be alone.
But knowing this
Accepting this
Doesn't make it less painful.
I'll be unhappy for a long time.
Wishing to experience what I'll never have.
One day I hope to finally not feel that pain.
But for now, no matter how much I know
This is the way God wants things,
It won't stop the tears or sorrow.
This Wednesday morning in Canberra
There will be a review of wether there
Is any benefit in introducing digital id
In Australia, As we know there is not.'
It is a soulless thing..Completely against
The Australian spirit, of new beginnings
And support for each other.' This is not
Fair it should be slated.' And consigned
To a history that we use to learn from as
We build a future, a Country' that the world
Can learn from.!
she was nicknamed witch who faced down a warlock
she was fearless, confident, radically ready to roll and rock
the toughest being who lived on a Brooklyn block
don’t mess with her, my mother said, looking at the clock
witch who faced down a warlock was slated to walk
down the block, on her way to school, where she could shock
classmates who were terrified of her confident walk.
and her willingness to take on a werewolf and a warlock
Comparing lost horizons to distaff,
my heart above conclusion, only laugh -
As boundless as some creatures slated path
were thee and I forever, as all last.
Consigning time, man's foolishness takes bath
just knowing of demeanor, souls find draft.
As mind-sets take thy virtue, thee relapse
to thy full meaning's sensing thy behalf.
So further still, life's sunset runs a'mast
thus thee, while steering time -
. . . thy ship floats past!
Summer’s almost over - that convalescent state
where successive modes of pleasure
were the order of the day.
Now fall commands awakening -
drive simplicity away! The hounds
of hell are yelping that it’s time to banish play.
They cry “forget unscheduled hours
that owned no share of care - the virtual halls
are scheduled and we’ll soon see you there.”
No apotropaic magic can delay my slated fate -
to pixelated halls of learning I must soon acclimate.