Short Spatter Poems
Short Spatter Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Spatter by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Spatter by length and keyword.
The bitter spatter of the rain
Revives a road that's getting wetter.
A pitter patter sings of pain:
Makes drowning ink run from a letter.
dabbled duo —
tan toes spitter spatter sand...
Pollock’s mermaid splash...
impressionist spitfire dart
procreates in windward minds...
12/23/2020
Spatter Riot
Percolating slowly through the thin orange sheep skin,
The poison of chaos oozes through widening pores,
Bringing to boil the spattering seed of evil.
droplets
hold wet
lulling
its sting
water
gets her
past tense
presence
cover
spatter
falling
air clean
loved skin
again
clouds gone
belong
It's saturday with friends arrived.
Unwelcomed spitter spatter on her wedding shower.
Nothing will dull their fun !
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Start of daylight summer.
Standing clouds do scatter.
Sun shines through raindrops, sail.
Smell of rain wet spatter.
Swaddles nature sitting.
Stunning rainbow it spins.
12/8/2024
Sails full
Nor'easter blows
Tides pull
Clouds scud
Raindrops spatter
Makes mud
Sails rip
Could this be the
Last trip
4-4-2020
Contest: Finding Your Musette
Sponsor: Joseph May
you try on the horns
they never settle just right
you remember the first time
nervous long night
of sacrificial insights
silence shattered
by shrill screams & blood spatter
you try on the horns
nothing is ever like the first time
voluntary or otherwise
I am an armchair detective
An armchair forensic anthropologist
An armchair criminal investigator
I solve every case; and quickly.
I am an armchair forensic pathologist.
An arm chair blood spatter analytic technician.
I solve murder after murder
On a daily basis.
Detectives solving crimes
Flashing their badges
Canvassing neighborhoods
Questioning potential witnesses
Explaining the forensics
Showing us how to taint a crime scene
Explaining blood spatter patterns
I sit in my chair trying to outguess them
Feeling smug, proud of myself,
Professional Lazy-boy detective.
Past decade decayed in a mist of crimson
Last barricade barraged to escape this prison
The Shades of grey flow through my faulty prism
Light betrays - plain sight - guards march me back to my chasm
Cleaning crew - white suits - red spatter
Leaning cruelly towards me - empty eyes - soulless laughter
No body
Chains hold me
Cold so coldly
Form:
Retired sweetness paints
a tiled mosaic of
unpredictable patterns.
Black, brown shapes
spatter the
grey concrete of
an underground kingdom.
The fresh ones burn
pink and seafoam
green against
this steely blue
and yellow lined world.
The stickiness clings
onto shining
out of spectrum,
before becoming
another dot
in dark masses.
Existential.
Just like that old car.
Haunted.
I have energy, I have magnets.
Spatter within me.
Jumpy because I have light switches.
Pluddles.
Mercy.
The crisis started with a stranded feeling.
Like I was a pumpkin patch.
Whoosh.
It’s all old cars now.
Existential hope.
Because the car.
Because the withering-
Belongs.
Descend, delicate rain of doom.
Spatter quietly in insistent breeze.
Break, gold and red,
as branches sneeze.
Burn a stack of saddened leaves.
Agitate limbs to nakedness.
You are my fall.
I am your slave until
winter’s uncivilized brawl
wipes life away.
It’s still October.
The glorious hiatus
warms me and then
will rapidly be gone;
a tale re-told.
Kathryn Collins
October 14, 2013
I the lonely poet whose words
spill out onto the page
like blood spatter at a crime scene
will knock at your door
books in my eyes hoping
you'll want to critique them
while others partake of tradition
I will bring cheese
summer sausage, and wine
quote Auden, Ginsberg, and Dove
'til the aurora strums the horizon
this rhythm inspires the wren
that melody signaling the dawn
Don't anyone on this flatter
Nor leave the matter to Martha.
To her it might mean 'No matter'
While it's one that could things batter.
Long-built relationships scatter,
When challenged lips simply mutter
Once clean lives in foulest gutter,
Quiet room source of loud clatter.
Each time, I awake this matter,
Fears of waiting ruin get fatter:
I glimpse feet and hear their patter.
As they inch closer, blood-spatter
Red substance on the floor
Fleshy
Spatter on the walls
Dog ends in the ashtray
Deceased
Smoke pushing at the windows
Glass lying on the table
Splintered
Contents dripping off the edge
Photos torn in pieces
Ruined
Heads circling the bin
Tissues in a line up
Guilty
Run into the bedroom
Clothes missing from the wardrobe
Stolen
A single hanger left behind
Corpse found in the bathroom
Crying
A hole in her left chest
Explosions in air, in water
Explosions are everywhere
That spatter bloods in air
Poor bloods float on water,
Continue flame and sound
Smokes spread all around,
The earth turns black-red
No more than a death bed,
The earth has been turned
Into a field of terrible war
And a pit of complete fire
No escape but to be burned,
More than ferocious are they
Destroying all who feel gay
And committing crimes all
Charge the guiltless to fall.
Mediocre we need not flatter
With laurels on a cheap platter:
Hero’s Effort make a matter;
A dropped metal’s heavy clatter…
“What is right” we foully batter
And Future Foundation scatter,
When save we just can The Latter
And ensure True Victory later…
Mediocre we must not flatter:
On our clothes staining mud spatter;
Problems feed and they are fatter,
Tires allowed to be flatter...
Don’t forget FIFA’s Staunch Blatter;
No Cups to have on a platter.
Regrets
They follow you like vultures
soaring in wistful circles
alighting on church roofs
at weddings and christenings,
never out of your sight
and chew on your dreams.
Their shadows mark the good things
that could have been yours
and spatter your life with the droppings
of what ifs and maybes.
Your past is inaudible over their constant chatter,
and when you lie still, fading,
with your family looking on,
they perch at the foot of your bed
and laugh
Sometimes
women are not else than fire,
hot and spicy.
If they touch your white clothes with their blame
that will burn you away to nothing.
But sometimes
women look like dew,
cool and pure.
So, do spatter your clothes with their clarity
and wash your face, hands and legs
with their purity
Then stand up
Look at yourself
Ouch…
Who else has got the body stronger than a man’s?
Who else got the face brighter than a man’s?
So...
who are you actually, women?
Merry sunbeams dance on dust bunnies
floating - lighter than air
Mickey and Minnie tossed
on the bed.
Mickey in a ball like a newborn,
Minnie looking as rag dolls do.
Fixed faces, vacant eyes like glass buttons
that don’t blink
Playtime’s over.
A stray sunbeam lights on Minnie’s cheek.
Blood spatter dots her face like tiny pin pricks.
Were they playing with paint?
It spilled on the bed, ruined Minnie’s dress
Darkness settles in the cheerful light
Dead.
Silence.