Short Slumps Poems
Short Slumps Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Slumps by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Slumps by length and keyword.
Brit's spy guy from Ian Fleming
Is Bond who goes chaos stemming!
When the web of life slumps
See how quickly he jumps
Sadly to die like a lemming
Born
Baby
Raises head
Crawls everywhere
Starts to walk 'n talk...
...Old age sets in
Wheelchair-bound
Slumps down
Dies...
Shrub with birds
Ponder what they say.
Sun slumps down.
As temp drops,
We might have a clone, they claim.
Cool hunch, wonder where.
Written: January 24, 2022
My
bask in
July sun,
turns into yawns,
slumps in a long nap,
I wake up half asleep,
I want to blame someone else,
Is it the shade under the sun?
Is it my retired life and old age?
Why blame anyone, I had lots of fun.
It is no dance, sensual.
Plays around, hip to hip
With romantic love, too forceful.
Nigh whose pretence does rip!
Innocent-shaped as clothed.
Hangs poised which theme upon
Of love, as highly descriptive.
Till slumps its woeful 'swan'.
A dagger to the heart.
Warmred oozes down his chest.
He slumps.
No pain, pleasure instead,
His heart now a hollow shell,
He is man.
Capable of Love or Hate,
He chooses neither.
The embodiment of devil may care.
This is how the devil died and I was born.
old man forest slumps
time is the savage victor
upright days long since
insolent, new growth moves in
forgotten, absorbed, lives on
—————
for the Bite Size Poem no.39 Poetry Contest
sponsored by Line Gauthier
written on 02/14/2022, updated 03/07/2022
Excursions, picnics, get-togethers, ballgames
An exhausted father slumps into his favorite armchair, leans back --
Ah, the pot of gold at the end of ‘his special day’
…Dad hobbles outside – bad knees and all – to set up
the sprinklers and haul in the gear from the van
This quest for God, and His peace
Journeying life through
By all accounts does not involve
Steersmen, ships or stars
Hydra of myth bars.
Love's one word, to whom this close
Slumps, for lack of, by
All that's needed to, genie-like
Free whose wish-granting
Bottled your heart in.
Between the sun
and the top of a garden wall,
drapes a marmalade rug,
now momentarily stiff legged
as it stretches.
Sparrow gossip twitches ears,
neck rises,
eyes squint under half-closed lids.
The drowsy head slumps.
Paws dangle
as fluent as light,
as heavy as contentment.
A missile in the home,
what they have done ?
You are on flames.
A red smoke rises
from bottomless hole.
Memory slumps.
A glow in pain washed
cells, calls the mirror.
Instead, grave diggers arrive.
This was the manufactured truth
of the eternal kiss
of death. I stretch my arms
to feel the terror.
The walls start crying.
There was no roof.
SATISH VERMA
Form:
Sisyphus’ Silence
I sit, a silent, carved-out zone,
A soul entrapped, unlit, unwhole,
The majority’s tide grinds flesh to bone,
While others’ feelings wallow, roll
In mud that clings, a river’s drone.
Sisyphus slumps at mountain’s base,
Scowls at the stone, then dares a smile,
“Nevermore” hums through empty space,
The gods, once loud, now mute, exiled.
to be in her arms is the only thing keeping me here to exist, her hair flowing in the wind, she slowly spins around, moving so elegantly not with the slightest sound, looking in my eyes hers suddenly spark, stumbling back and trip over bark, closing in closer i see shes sober, traveling to the bar eating mars candy bars, sniffing the air and pulls back, she slumps near the rack, nothing much to see then she has to pee
My Name is Tom
Written: by Tom Wright
10-7-2019
My given name is Tom,
And I’m some past eighty.
For the past fifty four years,
I’ve been married to the same lady.
It has taken extreme effort,
to negotiate some slumps
This old dog has faced,
Some serious health speed bumps.
For longevity I take no credit,
God made me no boy wonder.
“But what God has joined together,
let no MAN put asunder"
atop
a garden wall
striped marmalade throw
feline
lazy time
under sunshine
interlaced visions
a weaving
paws dangle in indolent ease
reach
underlay deep
whiskers sense sparrows
muscles tense in their plush
carpet shag
then
drowsy textile head slumps
sun-drying kitty-mat
basking
2 textured images twilled
to fade together forever
later
cat-rug carried away ~
sun settles in a deckchair
Pale blue and pink hooded tumbleweeds
Roll down the concrete corridor
Orange sodium vapor half lights
Half lit yellow tagged parking lot
Illuminated fake plastic trees all in a row
While acetylene fires stroke an ultramarine sky
Under stars
Corner homeless stumps and slumps and dumps
Warmed by desolation desert asphalt steam pumps
Electronic red laser reader
Smiling chain link razor wire jerk off greeter
“How are you today, Mr. Jones?”
In your limpid eyes
a pacifism slumps.
All I could say was, wrong sex
was ending in ice.
Dark energy : we were not expanding
Lies galore : we were casting
off our skins. I will not seek
afterlife. The hand carries the old coat.
Retrodiction. Don’t want to shed
the charm. Waited for the change
which never came. Chicken ,
wearing love, no bones.
Latest navel show. Walking on
ramp. Aphrodiasiac for the dangling
egos. Let us go for a
collective suicide.
Satish Verma
It still hurts from the cutting train
And I can’t find my bleeding legs
I hate this unbearable pain
So I pass it on to my “friends”
My blood seeps out with cold hatred
As I draw out my crimson scythe
Their slow, brutal deaths awaited
In the same way I lost my life
My victim’s eyes grow wide in fear
When I swing my starving weapon
He bleeds a single unseen tear
The cloth on his stomach reddens
Half his body slumps to the ground
And my next victim has been found
Tangerine tan man masterplan such chumps
Plumps to rain down bombs on Iranian clumps
Logic stumps as facts and pacts again dumps
Throat lumps as fossil fool fuel prices jumps
Getting trumped and thumped at the pumps
Oil barons gloat gazumps.. economy slumps
No cargo due to embargo everything flumps
Even a MAGA fan is now down in the dumps
Grumps got the hump with Mar a Lago frumps
Thicker than Forrest Gump deadlier than mumps
My glorious three -year-old grandson
hugs me as if I am his lifeline.
Pleasing me to my core.
He is the king here.
I am his servant.
We both live for this mighty hug.
I get it almost every weekend,
and yet...
It feels like the first hug, every time.
As his mommy pops him into his car seat
His head slumps forward, and his eyes close.
We played so hard!
We are both exhausted.
But it was so worth it!
When the car clears the driveway
I lie down,
to dream of next weekend.