Short Sort Poems
Short Sort Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Sort by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Sort by length and keyword.
Short verse
Brother wind, sister rain,
Father thunder and mother sunlight
Meet every April
And a family feud breaks out.
The best sort of wonder
Stares blankly, not just at
Rain, and its pooled splat;
As informs mesmeric
On how each act projects
Its ripple effects.
I can make the world dissappear
in this moment all that I am is lost ,dissolving into the sunset
I smile as dusk comes to run her cool fingers through my hair
Sort of Sleazy
Trump with all things is out of step,
And at doing things not ever adept;
Slept uneasy;
Sort of sleazy;
In on him old age has crept and crept.
Jim Horn
My heart on the clothesline
drip drying in evening’s breeze
washed in introspection
rinsed in morning dew
fresh and clean and new ~
till an evil little birdie
flew by
and
pooped on me
Step outside.
Step outside of your comfort zone.
Find out some sort of thing.
Find something. . .
Step outside of your comfort zone and find something magical.
June 1, 2017
Forgive me for being the wilting flower
In your bed of perfection
Forgive me for my silence
When I cannot shout
And If I should fall
Where darkness is waiting
Call heaven
Let God sort me out..
Sort of Silly
I seem to be on a beautiful roll.
Saw a nice filly walking on Piccadilly;
To you this may sound sort of silly;
My marvelous pick;
Good looking chick;
Compared to my wife was willy nilly.
Jim Horn
Bitter days and sour moods-
Adding to this awful news
In a mess and sick with stress
(Having doubts with secret moves)
Oh, how myself I do exhaust
As I'm standing near an awesome loss
All the while feel vain and vile-
In the fires to be tossed!
Suffice it to say
Today is a fine sort of day
Unless you are out
In the field pitching hay!
THIRD PLACE WINNER
written July 20, 2021
submitted to "Bite Size No. 14" poetry contest
sponsored by Line Gauthier
Her sort, A-trembly, wavy
Spurning all nets morn to eve
I still doubt, re-encountering;
Who first was hard to believe!
Fair things, fairest I suspect
Remain, and will ever so
In light, shyest; imaginary world's.
In fairy-flight's afterglow.
Sort out the new
one of the New
Sort of the New
Millennium I am
Sort out the new
one of those
Reluctant recalcitrant reprobates
Sort of the most
High Speed
Falling in love
In a moment
To tell
To view
To sort out the new
To gift in the old.
his love for her dissolved, diminished, and dwindled down.
her uniqueness looked farfetched now, bizarre; she was a clown.
after all the fawning he had done in the past six months, he felt weird.
Glad when she found another fellow, his conscience now cleared.
Let no light get unshone.
Let know voice get unheard.
Let no soul get unmoved.
Let no heart not see the silly genius
Of Bob Newhart.
Let all good organic being find a way
To our own joined great truth.
Like finding it funny to hear two
Daryls introduced one after another.
White Knight gallantly galloped
swiftly 'pon his black steed
to discernibly save the day,
pretty perky princess 'twas awe stricken
with the well endowed stallion,
they trotted abruptly into the future - -
presumptively, the knight retired to the dark side
Through the edging of the night
he was there
steadfast and strong
teetering at the tip of her thought
a yearning to be
allowed
to become undone
through the hallowed
the wanting
the waning
until the rise of a new lit sun
for night was her day
and he held her young
through it all
ancient echoes still sung
What am i doing
who the hell am i
one disaster to the next
always involves another guy
just take a look and pause
cos theres a pattern forming and i am the cause
look in the mirror
look around
come on me try a higher ground
maybe listen to the people who actually care
and change the routine
to myself, i dare!
sjeg
Form:
The British Rail saying,
'See it, say it, sorted,'
is so annoying
it should be aborted.
Travelers, from abroad,
are befuddled then bemused,
when first by this phrase
their ears are abused.
But the worst is yet to come...
it sounds like, 'Sort it,'
over the tannoy
and must be fixed by he who caught it.
a phone call
a text
a stroke on my cheek
the way you weep
your sarcastic guile
a cheeky smile
you melt me
unambiguously lay my fear
at your feet
that hat tossed about
your head
your cherub nature
a tarnished sweetness
assails my heart
sorcery, magic, the dark; dark arts
whatever that is
is you
whatever will be
is you
Like a ghost ship idly mooring
Cleaning your own mess is totally boring
Sorting other people’s stuff is fun however
Why don’t we switch houses in cold weather?
I’ll sort yours and, you sort mine.
We might both have a really fun sorting time.
How difficult could this trade of services be?
I just have to find someone as messy as me.
This warm breeze a gentle reprieve
From the harsh cold of winter
A day in the sun lounging thawing my body against the heated rocks
This is the comfort of your embrace
A sweet lie in the middle of a bitter truth
I can touch the sun as it blooms
Pushing through the frozen earth
My heart opens
A thousand yellow petals before you
Worlds vaguely similar
Casting a distilled fragment
Eyes seem to glimmer
Creating a sort of attachment
Between the blues of fate
And the pinks of disdain
The heart an extending bait
Upon which, her love has came.
Some people do not fall in love
They jump, headfirst, heedlessly
With little thought of where they'll land
Others dip in a toe and then
Either slide in cautiously or
Retreat with great haste, in contempt
Still others trip, most gracelessly
With much unseemly splashing
And left quite without their pride
Often, its some combination
Of the three above here listed
the mundane world rolls on
silently roars the silver ocean
colourless yellow feelings sleep furiously
boundless, free, spread all over
without any contour
and an essence of percolating peace dawns
so ginormous is 'His' creation
ethereal beauty prevails
e v e r y w h e r e
of the 'Unseen, Unknown Architect
How thank 'Him' for his uniqye opus
that fetches eternal ecstasy to mankind?
At odds about the undertakers fees, Mark Twain jeered:
“There is a system of extortion going on here!”
What horrific prices to pay for just a box and hole
When it's not the body we care about, but the soul!
This clerihew is derrived from reading Mark Twains views on burying the dead. His only quotation is the second line. ( Mark Twain and the Carson City Undertaker) - February 1864
Sandra Hudson, 1/18/2012