Short Specimens Poems
Short Specimens Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Specimens by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Specimens by length and keyword.
There is more than one kind of pumpkin seed.
One can be eaten, the other does feed.
A red dotted fish.
Or squash with a wish.
Both handsome specimens of nature indeed.
Broken in circles,
this
spiral
down.
A remnant,
a relic,
valid.
A black mass,
in vacuums,
incision.
Specimens,
cultured.
Future calling,
sleep,
docile now,
humble.
Humanity.
The expectancy of life.
This pregnancy of hope.
Form:
Young she ...
young he ... teenagers ...
little mouths of peripheral blood,
pink cheeks .... sweet perfume ...
Sweet youth .. enchanted songbirds ...
beautiful specimens in love ....
As the God disposes ...!
a garden is a work of art
conceived with gloved, wrinkled hands
a home for fragrant specimens
for mists, for rain, for brilliant sun
yet when the weather turns, so do blooms
from rich perfumes to withered tombs
so clasp tight my hand, retreat indoors
to dream of sun-splashed greener shores
EXPRESSIVE INTENTIONS
small
separate
precise
&significant
sublime
laconic
specimens
unfold
&encompass
vestiges
of
obscure
imagesless
dialogue
of
the spatial
realm
in
delineated
defiant
visual
contemplations
of
perverse
illusions
of
stimulated
sentiment
The dream wanders far afield,
in search of a kindred tribe
that to cynics does not yield,
by princely sums not bribed.
Far and wide, it sees many a face
that it can scarce recognize,
specimens of a hybrid race
born of wanton compromise.
Oh where can it be, it wonders,
the kinship my heart craves.
As the sky dims and thunders,
it stumbles upon rows of graves.
red flower gathering monster landed in the field with care
A sweet smell of lilac, persimmons and roses in the country air
He gathered some posies to take back to his planet to share
a snake passing by asked to go along, and said “it’s not fair…”
because he was refused a ride to the planet Bon Jarno Au Pair
Posies were the only specimens gathering monster was allowed to share
Centralised survailance, concrete division,
Altered states or pre-determined road.
Eyes are plenty, our voluntary will,
Concrete specimens of men, perfection of the imperfect.
Das Uber-mensch, learned, ingrained wish,
Whether body or mind, the image haunts.
Fallable or diseased? Where is the harmony in shared breath?
Walk in line, worship the 1%, nanny's eye will act as guide.
And now we come to the special cases:
You know, they are at the edge of the living,
Questionable that they fit the classification
Just a little red gristle at the articulations
Very desiccated, like pampas grass
Flopping like straw umbrellas
Non-speaking specimens,
What can they be thinking -
If anything?
Cradle one in your arms;
Isn’t it sad
What you think of them
Someone thinks of you
The only game to be found was one tiny runt
Goddess Diana was sent by the gods to help with the hunt
The forest was amazed at her animal power
She unleashed cumulus clouds who brought down a shower
During the storm beasts came tr to the meadow
Many fabulous specimens were leveled by bow
Can you come again soon? Asked a hunter named Todd.
I think you can do it yourself, Diana said. Thinking his request odd.
Hoeing there and
trying to
make the fake food
stuff grow i
found inside a
cracked line some
specimens of
unarmed rat fish
that had
futon sponges
glued to
them along with
all the other odd sermons
about
blundering humility
and how
the thin react to knights in
white sat-
in sheets when the weak end bend-
ers play to come dribbling out
their un-
locked crates and great granny nook
holes.
The heavens hold the stars
The eyes of gods shine brite
Watching their creation below
Once worshiped, now a fading light.
From creation born
Their power still great
Their worlds have changed
Subjects turn to science.
What numbers cant answer
Religion holds the key.
For our lives are still theirs
Till new worlds form
And their worship restored,
As sure as stars in their space
New specimens will admire
At the beauty, at the grace.
Under the aegis of darkness,
they trespassed narrow-edged ways —
wayward musicians;
spectre-framed and so pronto the
afflatus of restless painters and
hungry poets.
Mute and stout,
they seemed agnostics,
reclining on image-powers; thoughts
and dumb instruments facing earth;
such clout among them,
and countenance —dim —
turning them into a cluster of
strumpet-begotten specimens.
Moments of silence.
In their string-fashioned phalanx,
Untaperable fraternity.
You may think it's unique
That it's just
happened to you
at the moment
But it has all been done before
Anything that you imagine
has already taken place
It's nothing knew
It may seem
like it's a catastrophe
or that it's the greatest
thing that ever occurred
This is just an illusion
an illumination of discrepancies
fostered by time and space
bolstered by the relevancies
of disinterested specimens
that circulate through
the time portals
of everyday situations