Short Small White Poems
Short Small White Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Small White by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Small White by length and keyword.
blackberry winter
small white blooms not for picking
prickly spring cold snap
August 3, 2022
wintry desolate
an aquatic, white snail craws
betrayed by the lake
5/6/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
Gaily falls the snow this night
Like small white wings that take flight.
It's lovely to see
But cold as can be.
That beauty comes with a bite.
There once was a small white deer
Who no one could quite get near
She was very fleet
On her four wee feet
And was seen only once a year
Benji the dog loves to bark
As a small white dog giving it all his heart
To each one he sees walking past
At his front door for lots of laughs.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Amaryllises fill the flower lover's small, white cottage,
In pinks, apricots and burgundy, near summer's edge.
Written on: 2/5/2022
For: YOUR BEST RHYMING COUPLET, #4 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: L MILTON HANKINS
a small white wild flower smiles in the flower bed ~ i water that too
Date: 09th July 2022
Contest: The art of peace poetry contest
Sponsored by:John Lawless
1st place winner of the contest judged on 16th July 2022
A large mass of pelicans
grace the waters
of fort loramie lake
in mid-march
a sign of springs coming
large orange beaks hang
off small white
stubby necks
as they parade across
calm waters
gliding graciously
in unison
Still green
the leaves shaken by a trembling silence
covered the boughs
and the blood red bracts
a lover's kiss
around the small white flowers
to the giant datura trumpets
crushed like bleeding rose petals
into the goblets of wine
take the lovers lives.
You of carefree smile,
Tips of small white teeth
Dividing plump blush lips,
Pause here, stay a while
With me, sit beneath
This evening sky that grips
Our hearts as though
We'd been laid bare,
Exposed for heav'n to see.
Stay here. Do not go.
This moment ever rare,
Dreamily vivid to me.
Fountain of light
Showering on some
Small white lilies
Creating smiles
In the orange sky
Leaving eyes
To sparkle upon
The smiles of her
Tender heart
Opening In the
Light
Of the glowing
Fountain
Piecing together
Love, beyond
The farthest stars
Forever held deep
In her ring finger
Russell Sivey
Mars is a wonder in itself, a future plight;
its surface has a dull, red dust...
two small white moons amazingly bright
in a universe too dark and vast.
Some believe that it has water and even glaciers,
they saw a crater wider than that of Mount Vesuvius;
speculation or belief, a realistic thought persists
to start a voyage when Earth gets colder than Mars.
Alone and floppy with nothing to wear
Silently, I left you there
But I wish I never had
The marks of lifesaving staining your skin
I couldn’t dress you one last time
But I wish that I had
I saw you again, just once more
In your birthday dress
That you were too young to wear
I left you there
In that cold white room, then in that small white box
But I wish I never had
Yucca moth small white
Feeds upon yucca
Quite unique sight
Could say pure pukka.
'Pon tea, did alight.
Right in my cuppa
Quite a unique sight
Sails of felucca
A moth so white bright
But blends with yucca
Quite a unique sight
Blended in plica
A form called Yodel.
Pukka meaning excellent or high class
Felucca a sailing ship
Plica folds of a plant
Two men walk down a dusty street
in Winslow, Arizona.
One places small white crosses
at the curb and recites names
while the other bears witness:
"Juan Fernando Lopez”
“Presente!”
“Maria Anna Ramos”
“Presente!”
“Jose Angel Fernandez”
“Presente!”
“Restos mortales” (Mortal remains)
“Presente!”
This continues until
that day’s accounting
of bodies found in the desert
is complete.
A circle of small white stones
brass wind chimes,
one lone, pink-blossomed cherry tree,
birds twittering
small fountain tinkling - the whole works.
I sit, empty my mind,
too much tinkling and twittering
grow restless, recite
a low pitched Buddhist hymn
which scares the birds away.
The wind picks up
chimes tinkle -
tinkling becomes annoying,
a clanking;
Now I can hardly hear myself
not-thinking.
He decided that he wanted to be Welsh;
this vague idea took shape in the shapeless.
All the Big Mac’s he had ever consumed
began to alter his form.
they changed him into a cute
small white Beluga whale,
being a privileged white man
it made a kind of sense.
‘No’ he shouted
into an eager and responsive universe,
'I said Welsh!'
Later a Welsh speaking whale
was found beached
at an outdoor swimming pool.
What is the recipe for love?
A red, red rose or turtle dove?
The clasping of a small white glove,
or from above, or from above?
How can we know when true love starts?
Is it outside or in our hearts,
or from fey Cupid's shooting darts,
or fits and starts, or fits and starts?
How do we attain our life's dream?
Is it through gentleness or steam,
or maybe nefarious scheme?
What is the theme? What is the theme?
White Flower
——————-
Simple, exquisite, beautiful
this small white flower had panache,
dancing gently down from its perch
until it arrived near my feet.
Many others had traveled prior
but this one, oh this precious one
found me within the aubade woods.
It’s delicate petals shown white
with accents of orange and purple
the peak of color and brilliance
and yet today, no, why just now,
did it end?
———————-
“I can’t live without you”,
Was a small white lie often said.
“I need you so much” was another,
“If you leave I’d rather be dead”.
Then there were the smaller lies,
The “I love watching girly films too”.
And “Relationship isn’t just about sex,
I want to learn all about you”.
Relationships are often fed on fibs,
Lies that aren’t too precise.
They make us feel happy and wanted,
Make us feel lovely and nice.
A small, white scar
a fading bruise
an upset stomach
nothing to lose
nothing to gain
alone and afraid
numb with pain
the feel of a cut
and a stab in the skin
the song listened to
and im crying again
to just get away
to some other place
so they won't look
at the look on my face
the smile, the frown
its all going down
to the dark
to the death
and the wave at its crest
crashes down on my head
and the closing
the end
and its done
Form:
After noticing a small white house
this painter decided that it would look
fancy if someone would live in it too
so using his sister Nan and his dentist
Dr. Byron Mckeeby this colonial print
is mimicking 19th century Americana
And to think that they were never even standing
in front of the house they had been painted separatley
Grant Wood 1930
Americian Gothic
The Art Institute Of Chicago
Entry For Brian Strand's Ekphrasis
The dragonflies danced in the crisp Maine air
on a draft from the ocean deep.
Their delicate wings teased the breeze
high up on Mount Battie’s Peak.
Blue-black they flew like the night time sky,
as the mica flecked granite shone,
Seeking nectar sweet from blueberries bushes
and their small white flowers’ cones.
The silvered sea was surreally framed by
a multitude of human eyes;
Dotted with miniature sailing boats
A scene full of wonder and sighs.
The winds of love blow gently
amongst the sand dunes of living.
The seeds of doubt cast aside
by the wonderment of giving
Facing destiny together
many squalls along the way.
Small white clouds of hope
saying love is here to stay
Life to be lived in unison
Swaying to life's tune
Dancing under the stars
Listening to the crickets croon.
Finding ones soul mate
Is like poetry not quilled.
Working together for inner peace
Brings happiness fulfilled
May 18. 2013
I float on my white wings
A sky filled with dreams
Like a white dove symbolizing peace
White as a bride ... purity and maidens
Free to find ... kindness ... steadfast love and unity
Experiencing everything ... enforcement ...openness and truth
Free to win ... new start and development
White dove fly in the freedom of the souls embrace
Always shall pleasure live
28.12.2013
A-L Andresen :)