Short Smattering Poems
Short Smattering Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Smattering by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Smattering by length and keyword.
She licks her lips in an encapsulated, sensual, and smattering way--leaving me invalid.
Russell Sivey
I didn't make the contest on time...
Whenever my emotions are gathered pain side
down, a smattering of silent, shallow, cobweb shadows
wear me as woe’s weighty gown atop clouds blind
to rainbows where naught is wrought but gloom’s
sound, tempo fraught, inbound.
Memories float away,
catching sunlight as they sway,
a cloud of spent dandelions
dancing on the breeze,
like a blizzard in summer,
a storm without the freeze.
Numbness settles in
with its needles and its pins,
robbing feeling, looting hope,
weeding dreams before they grow
like a smattering of stars
snuffed by the city's glow.
The puppy was attracted to
The hem of my long skirt.
His snapping sharp-edged baby teeth
Kept me on the alert.
A smattering of scabs adorned
His owner’s hands and arms.
Restraint in puppies never ranks
Among their many charms.
So once I saw the damage he’d
Inflicted on some skin,
I figured he could nip my hem
So I’d be safe within.
Waiting for the ferry
I see water, boats and cars,
The bright blue sky and when it’s dark,
A smattering of stars.
Waiting for the subway
I see schmutz upon the tracks
And crowds of tense commuters
Looking like they can’t relax.
To get downtown I either take
The ferry or the train.
It’s really not a contest –
After all, I’m not insane!
Upon sources I stumbled on a sort
Upon curiosity I caught on to the sport
Not knowing I would actually in truth
Find someone worthwhile in my smattering youth
He wanted much to get to know me
And I just couldn’t get him to see
I was there only as a friend
I was there solely for me…
I cannot mend what I cannot tend
I surely cannot begin what I did not end
Damnit.
A smattering of snowflakes had fallen overnight, covering your grave with a delicate lacy shawl. I brush away bitter tears, desperately wishing you were tucked up snuggled and warm in your nursery, not lying in the stone cold ground.
my precious child
never took his first breath
born sleeping
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07/15/20
Mishmash of thoughts,
smashing potatoes,
brightened with butter
and lots of salt.
Wherever was i,
thoughtless, scattering,
smishing and smattering
what ought
to be sound, fearless
and earth shattering—
a cause.
Finally,
the mishmash
of thoughts,
lined up,
tear down
the page…
all the rage,
totally engaged,
a symphonic sage,
a madman’s parade,
a sword twisted—
a poem wielded and waged.
9/18/2021
Word-Worker
Thee procurement and collection
Of this smattering of letters
No matter your predilection
For future employment of type setters
To criss and cross all the tees and eyes
Paying close attention to the prose
Transcribing thine inner reflections width and lengthwise
In all subsequent rows
By paying out the aforementioned
It may be held in contention
That without future authorship; I would be un-pensioned.
16NOV20
Its Valentine's day, all the hearts of the world are rejoicing
with singular voice we exalt Cupid and all that he brings
Its a day when love coats and soothes uncertainties
making us subtle and soft in the face of love's honesty,
As we raise our hearts,...Hope floats and beckons,
like a smattering of rainbow diamonds ***
Leaving a spark of love it scintillates and fills us with dew,
when Cupid aims his bow at us, its as good as an I love you !
“January brings the snow, makes our feet and fingers glow.”
—Sara Coleridge
Winter Magic
Something wholly bright
outside my window. What a sight!
Crisp, fallen, new.
Oh! How the smattering of flakes grew!
The contrast against the night,
so angel white, a virgin light.
No human feet
have impressed the Winter sheet.
I pull on each boot.
I give a holler and hoot.
So excited am I, to expand each lung,
to catch manna on my tongue.
I must maintain I much prefer poems
which do amuse yet elucidate
with alliteration plus a fun pun
to enlighten and or educate
double meaning yes indeed
metaphorically speaking
a clever endeavour is all I need
for word-play tweaking
and no quibbling I refrain from reading
stream of consciousness scribbling
with neither rhyme nor reason
a smattering of words dribbling
altho' meaningless all the rage
scattering in wobbly lines
Pollock-like across the page