Short Snarls Poems
Short Snarls Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Snarls by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Snarls by length and keyword.
When pit bulls square-off to fight
competition will incite
the rage underneath
when baring those teeth
since jaws lock-down with each bite.
Quiggie Snarls were maritime snails
Tasted butter in mouth of Hales
He ate a bucketful
With his grandson Gudrool
Then kicked the bucket off the rails
What I write is gone the second it hits the page
I write with the frenzy of a wild cat in a rage
It spits and hisses and snarls at me along the way
This is how I write poetry every dashed day.
cloud strewn sky thunders
cool breezes bring petrichor
cacophonic snarls
savoury smells slumber sweet
liquid gold raises spirits
~04 Aug 2016~
Masti - Hindi word for fun
nature
iron cold grips the valleys and highlands
with snow - the winter's offspring -
snarls at sassy snowdrops
3-25-22
Contest: Form K - Kimo
Sponsor: Constance La France
Syllables checked with www.howmanysyllables
Beware
There’s a monster in the coat rack
He snarls and leers at me
Don’t go too close, he’ll sure attack
I was bit upon the knee.
But if you move, real quiet and quick
And part the coats, you’ll see
My little boy Buster, hiding
In the hall coat tree.
‘Without the claws,
Without the snarls and groans and growls,
Without the massive weigh differential…’
“Come here little teddy bear
Come here and give me a little hug”
7/19/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
His rainment bleak
Snarls of hair matted
Bloated shoes mud-streaked
Wisps of hair unhatted
Muttered imprecations
Hiding teeth jagged
A bedraggled skeleton
Cursing Nature, near-ragged
Those with golden locks
and eyes of deep blue
Face the mirror squarely
Could his image have been you?
Anger hides
Behind a gentle gesture
Shouting
How
did you let
this happen
You are there
I know it
See it
In flashes of sadness
In your eyes
In snarls of frustration
On your face
I know
You are present
Lost
In a synaptic maze
And so I search
Angrily
For a way
To find you
To free you
To love the you
That you are
With wispy hair as matted snow
Her raisin skin and wrinkled brow
Framed a face lit with youthful smile
And bright loving eyes without guile
Her gnarled knuckles on withered hands
Gently combed my snarls into strands
She neatly gathered in a bow
Kissing me, it was time to go
Plus, one warm hug, as was the rule,
Before I would skip off to school.
Form:
I got what I deserve.
A third-rate circumstance of my own making.
Over the decades, I've downgraded a few times.
Tossed the good ones aside and swallowed the rotten.
Now I dream in burlap and wear the jesters' boots.
It's too late; I've made my bed.
Too late to upgrade
I'm old
The pitch is too steep.
Karma has been more than fair to me.
In fire are we born,
children of the wind, the rain,
the raging storm.
In dreams do we succumb
to the wane of reason
as it becomes undone.
In thunder rumble, growls, snarls ferocious
with the lightning flash that follows
do we live and die in the soul's mitosis.
In the midnight flight
do we escape the torrent
of the fire burn delight
No, I can’t believe it happened again!
Surely folks think I stand out like Big Ben
The Jolly Old Green Giant
Snarls at me, so defiant
Green hair – and I’m not a comedian
It first occurred just before I was wed
Dyed my blonde hair brown; it turned green instead
Now the chlorine in the pool
Made me look like quite a fool
And I’ve no option but to shave my head
Bravery
Is not by fists
Raging swords
Pulsating pistols
It is in the execution
Of one's belief
Without sound knowledge
Of outside relief
It snarls, trouncing
Any intent of vain
Corruption
That begs to be doused
By hammer and sickle
Not the hardware kind
But the force
Of passionate mind
That tells the truth
Preserved eternally
Lacquered in
Virtuous lament.
(9/18/04)
Daring people with an imperfection in their stars
I was hit back by jerks who left me with many scars.
They are often harmed as a piece of their giving regards
I had no idea they are used to look for power and starves.
These disastrous people are without snobs.
You'll always be unable to haul them out of their snarls.
Written: August 14, 2021
That rudder, discontent, fouls us with prey
and snarls its union, gratitude, with stray
and so a Nation two-ply in convey
does over burden choice, with fools own play!
How deep the lesson, struggle costs relay
and pulls the vessel downward as to fray.
We cannot move the helm, can't turn to bay,
the cargo undermining hedges stay ~
So gaming kills the soul . . . by its parlay,
and gambling 'tis of thee becomes obey!
Ahh and so if surfaces
The black dog
The evil lerking soul
Like a precipice
That cracked mirror
It drags me towards
And dares
Look at you hideous beast
'I dare look and see'
'What now the terror of my being'
'What do you want me to do'
'Come on I say with a handful of pills'
It smiles and snarls and moves its body
Like a dog about to strike
It smiles
'Not today, I wouldn't waste even my time on you'...
A winter's evening darkly glows
Midst freshly fallen flakes of snow
Cityscapes sparkle, and glisten
Music's everywhere, just listen
Night springs to life, traffic snarls and darts
As horse-drawn carriages, white stallions smart
and dapper trot briskly by on moonlit stones
While nearby tides rush in on thrones
Just then it is my thoughts set sail
O'er waves of delicate, deep desires
Passion's vessels lifted higher...
The tears of sadness fill my eyes.
As one so loved slips to the other side and dies.
The hurt so strong leaving me hollow and numb.
Making it hard to talk or relate to anyone.
As the sharp edge of pain subsides.
The thumb print god placed on her head resides.
Along with her growls and snarls she leaves me with a smile.
One that death cannot erase not even for heaven's sake.
In my heart she takes her place.
Here she has permanent grace
Listen to poem:
Age gnarls, weather beats skin to flaky dryness.
Wrinkles and lines, furrows, knots and blotches
Twist and contort the skin of babies and youths
to a knurled, rough, compliant easy to grip surface.
The rough and worn acrimony of old age,
Despite the crabby, cantankerous snarls and grumbles,
Can be gripped, manipulated and convinced to comply and yield.
For now there is little else to lose, little else to try anew.
It is the gnarls of age that knurls the grip to yield.
There is a monster under my bed
with its big, bulging eyes it snarls at me
until I withdraw my head from the side of the bed
and pull the covers up over myself.
There is a monster in my closet
with its wet, frothing mouth it hisses at me
until I shut the doors so I can see it no more
and tuck myself back in to bed.
There is a monster outside my room
with his beer in his hand he approaches me
until he is done and he believes he has won
and I cry myself back to sleep.
Form:
Night-time wanderer led asunder
Snarls voice my carnivorous hunger
Feral gait; silent under the thunder
A corpse would cause the village to wonder
A corpse completely drained of blood
Pooled inside my mouth like a flood
Beneath it; barely churned-up mud
The body fell with a gentle thud
From the thirst, momentarily free
Echoing in my mind; the dead man's last plea
His body tossed into the sea
So the murder couldn't be traced back to me
Every cold case began somewhere...
Form: