Short Spackled Poems
Short Spackled Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Spackled by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Spackled by length and keyword.
Star spackled night sky.
In darkness I sit,
beneath the lights of The Milky Way.
They shine with a humble beauty
and remind me to look within.
Gazing out in introspection,
I'm struck by a realisation..
I am all that I see.
And all that I see is me.
Last night a high wind
undressed the maple grove
it broke both twig and bough.
A flying carpet fell,
blood-tinted gold
spackled the woodland floor,
all in a heap and litter.
If you walk ankle-deep there
your shoes learn to speak
with the dying and the dead.
(Machine gun bullets, or is that rain?
Mud spackled riv'lets down the drain.)
Did you ever think that the truth was funny?
Same old joke for any Money.
Burns are red, bruises blue.
Enemies here in their village stew;
And with the same old same old thing to do.
The picture is perfect
All spackled and new
Under dim-lit forsythia.
The reflection is shone
In the new fallen snow.
And base to the corner
Its' curiously known.
Each texture, each timber
So hallowed receive.
All the grandeur and loyal
So effortlessly groan.
Always windswept and drifting
Carefully blown.
Spring.
Greening trees thatch a spackled sky.
Cardinals kick up patches of sound,
red periods and full-stops
amid an increasing catawampus.
I am far from song yet.
my ears are bats hung from chill temples,
but I do feel
a coyote-itch in my dreams,
do imagine a splatter of green
on the hairy chops of whistle pigs.
Greening trees thatch a spackled sky,
but not yet.
Cardinals kick up patches of sound,
but not yet.
Winter is sowing Spring,
setting fire to mist and smoke,
planting flames onto a colorless sky,
coyote's itch in their dreams,
Do you imagine a smear of green
on the frozen mud,
or is it the new blood of the yet unborn?
Just two more hours till the Royal Ball
Alas, this zit wouldn't fade at all
Since no ointment would ease
I just gave it a squeeze
It crackled, then it spackled the wall
I knew soon that company would call
But how to hide that goop on the wall
Left no clues with my clothes
Wiped the ooze from my nose
Looks like I'll make the Ball after all
Salmon pink horizon beguiles as I towel dry
Upon a muted canvas morphs hues at sunset.
The lake decants of its waders and pontoons.
Mirrored waters tranquil—a soothing elixir.
Tidy up and make camp for the night.
The campsite invited blissful slumber.
Natural waters reflected frond umbrellas.
An artificial lake at once sequestered.
Fuchsia shades spackled across dusky skies.
All had surfaced—I dove into a lost horizon.
Branches thatch a spackled sky.
Snow lays itself down
to sleep lightly.
An airborne coyote-itch addles
drops of sunlight
until they drizzle.
Splatters of graying-green
on the hairy chops of groundhogs
as they scrape up a scant buffet.
One Scarlet Cardinal bobs,
its ruby flounced headdress
scattering scads of frost.
Winter shucks its hoary hide,
stepping through a muddy mirage
of Spring.
Fanged winds pounce.
Puddles of rain return to ice.