Short Slum Poems
Short Slum Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Slum by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Slum by length and keyword.
I tried
to tell her
not to resort
to slum
dating
and living
but she just
did not see
the queen
she was
inside.
Haiku
palace is static;
slum at its feet is dancing
in its carnival………
© Ramakrishna Chowdary Jasti
04Aug2014
downpours in midsummer
lavish houses with creek view
a flooded slum
Written: January 14, 2022
Don't think you have owned the place
You'll leave it in the time race
Other people will come
And live in your slum
So always have a smiling face
Hey hey! let's give fire
to the palace, villas
hold the gunpowder to set
to burn down the house, rouse
who are poor
slum houses to keep hot, sought
to keep them warmth in winter, in dance & songs
yes we should set
on the principle hot.
Little drummer boy with a rum-tum-dumb
Beat out a melody in ghetto slum
Fuzz drove slowly by
Saw Santa in sky
Consumed donuts as he fell on his bum
Written 11-29-2022
Contest: a Funny Christmas or December Holiday Limerick
Sponsor: Tania Kitchen
from bank to skill
and labor to love
for sake of pleasure
and from rooftop to tile
my list compiles a pile
as high and long as a miracle mile
from brain to agility
from slum to nobility
I am willing to bet that
pound for pound
I am better by the pound
My shy wife was a princess of Babazoa
Her dessert was cream lizard from Samoa
She inherited a princely sum
And went to the Big Gabazoa slum
And bought chilled bum for her sweet Burmese Boa
Alive and given a destiny
Love of parents was in mutiny
Grew up in a cold slum
Had a choice, every Sunday the church would come
Life was lived on the highway
His spirit died he lived without The Way
He is the "man", but with no brain
Playing stunt on top of a moving train
The devil dashed him the final blow
See his sober dead body like a cat's mew
crumbling slum buildings
a persistence of loud cars
air and noise and pollution
old home with a garden-
woman pushing carriage
small kids riding bicycles
________________________
June 26, 2016
Poetry/Choka/View From Train
Copyright Protected, ID 16- 804-421-0
All Rights Reseerved. Written under Pseudonym.
In my pain, I have gained
In my shame, I got a name
In my loss, I never was lost
In my penury, I went through the refinery-
there my destiny was revealed
And who would have thought all along that a slob from the slum could have the
guts to leave the ruts to be a king with a ring on a throne and cant be dethroned
by any imaginable human effort.
Whispers...
Slumber...?
Slumberrrrr,
Don't leave...
Be my light...
My sigh...t,
And fight
Not...the
Powerrrrr...
That I...she...
Hol...dsssss...
Pity my...her...
Cowar...dice...
Have mercyyyyy...
On my...her...
COWARDICE!
Come near...
Slumberrrrr...
Milky Slum...berrrrr...
Slow...whispers...
By my...her...
Side...in...in
The lakes...
Offfff Hell...
Form:
(Series: Half of the dream broke with her)
Let my lines possess you to tipsiness,
Scatter your night - make you slum,
& when the night comes
Look at the sky & smile
I long to find my other half - just like the moon.
Let me rest my life on your chest
Break the silence with my feelings.
I’m a pulse - but you’re a throbbing pulse
That revive the corner of my prisoned soul.
A racist and Christian walk into a bar
the Christian says you are racist
the racist says you are not a Christian
the both have a good laugh
up on the TV Screen
babies being slaughtered
they sip their fancy drinks
and go cheers
no white kids right?
nah
just deported slum
or foreign folk
no one cares
lets have another drink
and laugh at those less than us
they are so woke
The round tip dances
On a white paper
To express the feelings
Of the deepest
Blue and blue
Or love and joyful
Every dance to compete
To reach popularity
But every words
Should bring messages
From pieces of a peace
Seeing, and empathy
Struggle and the great words
A wall of the slum,
A kid of the war,
A rally of the street,
They are the true words
True messages
[on pollution]
I breathe smoke,
sleep in slum
hunt flesh;
over my hideous ribs
play glossy blossoms
sprinkling perfume of sweat.
Hey! Handsome!!
I greet you;
Sweat’s sweeter than wine,
Skin thirstier than spine,
Smoke thicker than blood,
Hunting ’s life.
Drive fast swirling smoke;
Come, cuddle and kiss ,
my silky bob!
Who says I’m ugly witch?
Under your glistening arms
I’m the fairest.
I strongly pray for peace and shared respect.
But I'd much quite prey on the nasty scum.
Who are the ones who plant seeds of reject?
I strongly pray for peace and shared respect.
To stop the wreak ruin on people's, swept.
No reason to turn to physical slum.
I strongly pray for peace and shared respect.
But I'd much quite prey on the nasty scum.
Written: March 13, 2023
Searching for spirits untold
Held captive by something so bold
Begging to please, to be set free
To take away the grips
That were once pretty
Seeing the world
in black and white
Living in a slum of grey
But the spirits take her
from day to day
Something religious and something evil
Can fool the mind
To find it gleeful
Insanity perches on its brink
The world ending in a song of drink
Form:
I am slimy scum
I'm a rotten bum
I rule America
Sucking on my thumb.
I am rather dumb
I make people numb
I'll turn America
Into endless slum.
If I'm feeling glum
Unhappy I become
I praise the Ku Klux Klan
Then I get giddy some.
Beat my kettledrum
Rat-a-tat-tum-tum
Shriek racist epithets
Ad-infitum.
My ultimatum
Needs uranium
Blowing up the world and grin
Ain't it worrisome. I win!
Steadily beats he a drum,
Heavily drinking stiff rum;
Zestfully tours he a slum,
Masculine tunes does hum.
Later, his fingers are numb,
Not excluded his half thumb;
Decides he then to sit his bum
For an unfinished chewing gum,
To him released by a chum,
When he couldn’t from him a plum…
Later, shall workout the sum
Of how to get back to doting mum;
A drummer alcoholic,
At times, a workaholic
Stymied at the cross roads
choices left to be made,
past succumbed to rot and erode
stifled by a loss in trade.
A trickle left in amble
as climates seem to change,
movements toward a scramble
a time to evolve and interchange.
Sins of others selling soul
scurry power to a slower pace
slum-dogs roam out of control
to fill the vacuum and the space.
A slain shroud of refined mystery
confined pages of a mono history!
I will turn back the pages of my life
back to when we lived in a row house
one of many- though mom made ours pretty
with lace curtains and flower window boxes
I loved it there
but we moved away after Susan died
that was my big sister
I went back not long ago to see our old home
the area is now a slum
with rundown, boarded up homes
I wish that I had just kept my memory
and never gone back
The men didn’t sleep even after dark,
clanging steel and creating sparks beneath moonlight
working away at the shackled houses
She stood in the room with her back to the empty window
looking at the little feet protruding from the blankets
like little fireflies, steadily glowing because they did not know.
She guarded them. She listened and hoped
the noises would not enter their dreams
on this last night they had.
I swear don't believe what you hear
live life strong never ever in fear
here is a tissue wipe that tear
you will make it I will make it to the next year
There is just simply more to come
there is more fun no more need to run
put down the gun raise up out the slum
you were born gifted so don't be dumb
If you're hungry you should be able to come and get some
we throw away so much when there are people with none. -TA
Working, renewal in the city of Delhi,
Humayun's to the signature development everywhere,
A phase never has seen,
Money forced poor and Halcyon life,
The lilt in a polluted atmosphere
Dirty-minded carbons moving in slums,
Strong tin doors in the slum, In terror.
A whole day on street, for half an hour meal
Rich faces are in dream whole night,
Dusty faces with beautiful minds.
Below to the poverty line,
But above the lifeline.