Short Southwards Poems
Short Southwards Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Southwards by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Southwards by length and keyword.
my fingers reach to touch the sky
where swallows circle,then southwards fly
Crystalline form created by US poet Denis Garrison
southwards
to the sun-
follow the light,
annual migration's
begun-
nomads
of nowhere,
without a care
baggage,passports or cheap
airfare
March is unique here --
Auburn leaves dropping from trees,
Returning to dust,
Chilling winds howling southwards
Heralding winter's coming.
My fingers reach to touch the sky
where swallows circle,then southwards fly.
NOTE:Crystalline is A two line image poem, (created by Denis Garison) often with a title, in which euphony is the key factor. Each line may have 8 or 9 syllables to make a total of seventeen.
Crimson twilight, stained glass sunsets bled
Frost tipped flowers of summers fled
Migrating flocks, southwards led
Gatherings to break bread
Chrysanthemum spread
Autumnal bed
Overhead
Wind sped
Red
11/07/19
For 'Rhyming Nonet' contest
Sponsor: charles messina
tied against the mountain
the blue children play
the upturned apples' cart
scent filled the air
The Wild herons flew southwards
as the crucible sun hit the apex
Crimson skies laced against
the white aconite churchyards
We left, denouncing the first hymn
we heard
surely someone has desecrated the night sky
The stars were twinkling
as the moon danced
sending beaming rays
to float over the earth.
Casting shadows over all
in the still of the night.
We lay entwined
fingers wandering southwards.
Our breath hot and passionate
as we danced the age old dance.
Reaffirming our love as
slowly we rose to climax.
By the river reflecting
the majesty of the sky.
Adding poignancy
to our deep abiding love
Working in jobs we loath,
buying valuables we do not need.
We have no substance to survive on this,
our souls we can not feed.
A million miles away,
across oceans and cracks.
Exist people that own everything,
everything we lack.
The Mark of Cain,
we have burnt upon ourselves.
Ever plummeting southwards,
our conscious delves.
He collects them in bottles,
our evil ways.
Waiting to release them,
at the end of days.
Form:
The desire and longings for water was
enormous
Yet the supplies continue to dwindle year
after year
The older trees parched by a permanence of thirst
began to give up
As the waters too began to move southwards
Desolations taken over, only the howling of
wind storms
and the brave of Camels roams the lands
The landscape has been redesigned on account
of dryness
The land is parched on account of moisture.
(Written on the 15th October, 2026)
Form: