Short Smithereens Poems
Short Smithereens Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Smithereens by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Smithereens by length and keyword.
In smithereens
Like scattered shards of glass
Cold as winter snow
Frozen like ice
Date written and posted: 04/29/2018
We are waiting for the giant shoe to drop
Smacking us to the sidewalk
Then smashing us to smithereens
Because we have been taught to expect the worst
Sadly….
We are all of us kings and queens
I don't mean in family genes
But: God loves us to smithereens
We're adopted to royal means
(Jesus is King, Mary the Queen)
Her smug smile smacked of smarminess,
Smouldering with self-smiting spite,
Her smartness smothered by smooth smirks
Was smashed to smoky smithereens.
12/03/17
I wrote a poem, but don't know what it means.
Its mystery is what the reader gleans.
Now, its meaning is infused,
unless the reader is confused,
and the poem is blown to smithereens.
Her smile shattered by the sadistic.
Eve became a statistic.
The serpent tied the sling.
Claustrophobic catastrophe - frail wing.
Her bundle of joys
blown to smithereens, her angel boys.
The clock shattered in smithereens
but I hold on to the time;
time brought me to you
it would forever bond us
Time broke me away from the prison of my false thoughts
and here I remain UNtethered
he calls me a name
I stomp his foot
she calls me a name
I pick up my hammer
smash her to smithereens
Her mistake?
standing on my last nerve
after a day of name-calling
prison for life?
worth it.
She was an everyday type of girl,
but had a Shirley Temple kind of curl.
The last thing that I can recall
is her can of kerosine and her doll,
and now I'm burned to smithereens
by a girl not even in her teens.
She crushed my feelings into smithereens
Spitting on them and kicking them with a weird joy
Her face distorted into a Cheshire cat grin
I could see her soul loved hurting me
Her mean knife was sticking out of my side
She made a running jump into it
Never at rest, ever restive
like shifting sands of the desert,
my mind is
a labyrinth of quagmires and booby traps,
you step on it
and you’ll either be sucked in
or blown to smithereens…
Going in is a child’s play
Coming out—
A gauntlet run!
With black broken crayon
vanishing myself in mirror;
but it denied and decided
to divide into dozens.
Smithereens stare me
showing my sparse face.
But this time i accept it
As it is far more better
than a broken bosom.
August 3, 2020
Here lie the few remains of John M. Kyte
He lit a cigarette with a stick of dynamite
[His body was blown to smithereens]
Parts of him were scattered over the county
For which retrieval insured a hefty bounty.
Written November 29, 2022
Blown into tiny smithereens
Festooned with velvet drapes
A nightly dream, what could it mean
Holding the fast escape
Waiting to meet another sun
Dreams lined up the clothesline
Sagging to revive unread plan
Let free my confined mind
Date: March 30, 2015
Emotionally, a wrecked ship
Battered to smithereens.
Tarred and feathered
By the tempestuous ocean wave
That is grief. Her faith in the Lord,
Blueprint for her reconstruction.
Date written: 06/19/2022
There is internal combustion
Waiting in my heart
To trigger and blow me to smithereens
It pulsates when people get mean with each other
Lashing out, screaming unkind things,
Threatening and intimidating others.
I can no longer watch the news
Because of the horribleness of it
Because it hurts me
Blowing my heart to smithereens
Jack always carried his candlestick,
ready to show off his jumping trick.
His speed and strength were better than luck
and he wanted more bang for his buck.
Cavendish McDare known as Jack-be-quick,
thought he was faster than dynamite wick.
Right before Jack was blown to smithereens,
his mother washed too much starch with his jeans.
shallow breeze stutters
severing saucy alphabeta
wielded wind weaves
into punctured pieces
fostering felon feasts
bounty blurs breed
locked lips split
aiding taunted trip
bruised breeze picked
smothered smithereens shudder
before fiery filter
gaunt gifts trigger
helpless as confetti
helpless as feelings.
'20:02:19:19:20
Feral Fragments
Ghostly gloom, born of foreboding stillness,
Cut to smithereens - shattered shards of energy escape
From whirlwinds in feral fragments with serrated cutting edges -
Wary night watch warned of sirocco's spinning untamed spiral catastrophe.
From Fractured Fragments
9-7-21
Contest Liberum Divisa 7
Sponsor: Gregory Barden
clumsy coal complaining
smothered syllables scrunching
dripping damped draws
feigning fostered flaw
hoisted hood hankering
contracted callous smithereens
on fallible fate
was remonstration raised
taunted tactically trace
daedal diamond sermonizing;
"Dear, make sprees
stanced like fig
etch felon fear
then trade tiers."
19:12:02:11:02
yawning yucks vying
salient sin scrunching
felon feast fiddling
feigning fostered feeling
sorrow met laughter
twain callous criminals
curvy court clutched
sumptuous shriek sucked
lurching la-de-da lust
eerie end amputating
drooling desires dangling
met mystic melody
severed smithereens smirking
contract into catastrophe.
20:01:05:10:45
Hideous hank hoisted
smoothened scrunched sculpted
tactic turn twisting
scared surges skipping
smithereens into span
contracted turbulent trance
vile vibed passion
inflected per punctures
birthed by seizures
damped draws drooping
growling gaunt gaiety
lanky lust lurching
ensconced eyes envisaged
weary lids wakes.
19:11:13:13:20
la-de-da limbs lurching
into mystic malady
birthed by odds
seeped in song
nocturnal nymph chew
pulpy syllables puked
airy atmosphere amputating
jolting jumpy verses
willow wack willed
alchemist alto hankering
lusty lips severing
confetti crunching smithereens
felon life fostering
damped desires drooling.
20:01:07:08:36
~Note~ Only Yahuah knows what the poet had discussed.
MY LANGUAGE
The words I write in poetry
are fluent unlike my twitching
face and halting tongue.
With eyes closed I can see
my beautiful little poems.
They make me smile,
my colorful smithereens.
They save me from the harsh
reality that is my body.
My only oasis in barren land.
***
1st place in contest: What Does Poetry Mean To You
Sponsored by Alexis Y.
The bitter twist of the knife,
to bleed not for sympathy.
Releases the blood without empathy,
my thoughts will not subside, scour the edge of my fears.
Pierced, poised to keep hidden that lullaby,
I sleep where my soul, dreamless, dies.
Nothing but scars to shatter long-time broken dreams
In smithereens,
sinking in your absence, the catalyst without pain
So stab me now and make me feel again.