Short Souvenir Poems
Short Souvenir Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Souvenir by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Souvenir by length and keyword.
shining dawn
sip on coffee cup
you and me
but a souvenir
lives with me this morn
-January 22, 2019 Chattogram
Form:
I love the wind when
brings me your fragrance,
and the time when
evokes me your memory...!
I hate to say it, but it's true
You don't like me, I don't like you
It's good to graduate from this place
So I won't have to look at your face.
Love the wind when
brings me your sweet fragrance
and the time when
Brings me your remembrance...!
The midnight warning of Paul Revere:
"Liquor up front, poker in the rear!
The British are coming
To do their own plumbing
So ensure you leave a souvenir!"
sea shells survive
some souvenir seeking sots...
searching sandy shore
written 3/1/2011
for contest"Alliterative Haiku"
sponsored by Chris D. Aechtner
What was that
Running around, chased
By my cat?
With great haste
And also fear,
Away I raced.
My kitty dear
Thrashed a rat,
her new souvenir!
honeysuckle vines
bumblebee and hummingbird
take sweet souvenir
20th June 2019
Sponsor Tania Kitchin
Contest :Birds or Bees Haiku
Syllables 5 7 5 on howmanysyllables.com
Spinning Swirls of razor-sharp Swords.
Shiny mouth
Sings
Symphonies of the Sea with
Salty breath.
Soft pink, brown, peach--shades of
Sand.
Silently Sleeping as the Waves
Slap it out of dreams.
Born in giftedness of innate purview,
Tending him like tender scion, is vital.
Send him to play, work isn't his battle.
Never let school, for him, be accidental,
Ergo, let's earn his souvenir from this review.
o sole mio
I am the bird
That was made by my father
With his hands
Now during the morning
I am flying in the sky
Above the mountain
And the ocean
Lots of people are taking photos of me
So they can have as a souvenir
Love for the game
Catch, swings, pitch, throws during training
Love for the game
Souvenir shop; things with team name
Games postponed with heavy raining
Beers, cheers, and jeers, which team gaining
Love for the game.
j`ai dessiné
l`amour
avec des lettres
sculptées en couleurs
qui parlent
pastel
de nostalgie
d`automne
encadré
comme un souvenir
d`âme
mis
à l`exposition
de la vie
sur le mur
extérieur
de mon coeur
moi ,
je signe
l`amour
my heart now missing
a souvenir that you took
displayed on your shelf
quickly forgotten
hidden behind the others
you, the knave of hearts
a true master of the game
no deviations
from the plan devised
me, blindsided by moonlight
by a woman
or by another
an illusion of the futures
in the worlds that cross themselves
souvenir by souvenir
it is the fragrant tea
this sugar in my mouth
who animate my present
my desire to live the sky
this eternal horizon
a beautiful wife is flower
souvenir for the heart
giving every day a picnic
for the man she married
and the children she bears
are little beautiful flowers
from the ovules of her life
as free gifts to the world
that love and cherish glory
Damp energy descends
from skyline prophecies
an irresistible souvenir
laced with infatuation
the gentle, yellow moans
the way they mirror
streetlights and flies
the friction of blue moons
By Glenn McCrary
© 2012 Glenn McCrary (All rights reserved)
Poor Sam Hose was tied to tree
Soaked in kerosene, lit a thousand degrees
His flesh roasting, the mob sliced off pieces
Laughing at his screams for mercy from Jesus
They took his manhood, fingers and ears
Poor Sam Hose was a souvenir
The inevitable reaper
whose shadow is grim
He waits for his victims
as their heartbeats fade
He collects their last breath
as a grim souvenir
His garden of bones
Blooms only grief,
Another soul is leaving,
He gathers his scythe ...
Just close the door
and be alone behind the mist
contemplating hope
in freedom of no-thing-ness
my senses capture a union with love a
love infused by seamless
unconscious love
beyond form
beyond
any need to control or divide.
Illuminated by a flash of light
a souvenir of no-thing.
Walked down the corridor of my
school and realised
The walls still bare your scent,
the benches still hold your
memory, your voice is the loudest
one in the echoes of the halls
The doors have shrunk to my
height and it just hit me now,
how little we were when we
found joy in admiring each other
secretly
THIRSTY
Start with a cup of cold water.
Let those first words soothe your tongue.
Each day, each new moment.
Keep each cup as a souvenir.
Generously fill with living water.
You will become a lovely stream, ready to fill up other's cups
With truth, love, joy, peace…
Namely, with Christ
Kim Rodrigues © 2017
Remembering “Stuff”
4/20/2018
Some memories, become asphyxiated by time,
Others perish quickly, or retreat into the regions of non-recall;
That leaves only a few,
With a faint glow superimposed in our minds;
Each is a souvenir of a recollection past,
And some will remain until we breathe no more.
Tom
Filled to the brim with old papers,
recipes, pencils, who knows what.
Manuals I should have thrown out,
that food menu I lost last year.
Black hole for kitchen escapers,
do you think old scissors still cut?
This cracked magnet lying about
is still a cherished souvenir.
Nostalgia in a large amount,
I wonder what else is in here.
If love is a gamble,
I wouldn't shy away to risk shedding
yellowing pages of my soul,
to grow souvenir sunflowers in your yearning soul.
As I can't stop these free falling heartbeats now,
and if I am meant to fall,
I wouldn't deny any push from million Everests --
everytime, gladly for you.
Ayesh