Short Sprits Poems
Short Sprits Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Sprits by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Sprits by length and keyword.
when christmas near
you hear
angel carol sing
you hear bells ring
its a lovable thing
to share
how the
SPRITS IN THE AIR
she is that ship
that whips and dip
to get us there
her sprits everywhere
she worked hard
to give other a started
SHE WAS CHOOSES
BY GOD
this i won't share
sprits in the air
some its hard to bear
life some night
i sit and stare
there's a cool breed
i fall on my knees
to my
PRAYING CHAIR
its bright and glow at night
theyer walking and talking
stoping windor shopping
its a holiday treat
the sprits under neat
in our
HOLIDAY CITY STREETS
you know is near
its time of year
you can tell
there is a smell
in the air
you are aware
that someone care
gifts thoses
who you trust
its the
SPRITS OF CHRISTMAS
look around its freedom sound
it can be found
loves in the air
theres love and care
some don't won't share
his sprits aware
tho his life he had to give
so our life would be fulfill
HIS DREAMS LIVES
jesus make me dissaper from evils sight on this night!i dont need the demons to see please god of eternity!and also if it be make me dissapear this daythis i pray!con fuse them of who i am i need too be around to stop evil my great sprits true i will always bow too you!
You have been there always
For many hours and days
A friend that I need
A brother that I love
We are like birds in the sky
But not like turtledoves
More like eagles that soar together
Two sprits inside one feather
And our friendship will stay constant
It will always last forever...
Form:
I AM A BLACK AFRICIAN QUEEN TO ME YES THAT’S WHAT I MEAN
BEAUTY TALENT ARE IN BETWEEN SO I ASK AGAIN WHAT AM I A BEAUTIFUL
BLACK AFRICAN QUEEN
I AM SHORT BUT FEEL TALL NOT EVEN THE TALLEST WALL CAN KNOCK MY
SPRITS DOWN SO I ASK YOU WHAT AM I ONCE AND FOR ALL TO ME I THE
BEAUTIFULESS THING AROUND YES TO ME THAT’S WHAT I MEAN I AM THE
BLACK AFRICAN QUEEN.
Together we have chosen
Our lives to be woven
Breathing our sprits
Connecting our thoughts
Intertwining the seduction
That leaks out of our souls
Enriched in the meaning
That love does hold
Holding together, bonded by friendship
That’s true and blushing with mood
Content with pleasure of minds
Grateful for the moment
Sharing
An
Eternity
Blessed by chance
Sprits of the young are giving birth,
As love is waiting in the wings.
My reflections of my yesterdays
are waiting in the wings.
Pennys are all you need for
a fountain of youth while
waiting in the wings.
A constant cry bares the
weight of yesterday,As
I'm waiting in the wings.
The innocents of a child are held
in the palms of your hands,
As your waiting in the wings.
lightning flashing
thunder cracking
trees a snapping
winds a crashing
sprits rising
real destruction
spectors dancing
storm romancing
rain falls washing away
demons of destruction
free our minds once more
bells a tolling
final warning
streets of concreate
destroyed by morning
people praying
others slaying
rain falls washing away
demons of destruction
free our minds once more
extinguished like a smoking candles flame
sliding down the subway
imprisoned just the same
like a child
picked on by its friends
burised torn and defeated
will you be that boy again
(tears in the back of you mind)
repugnant impertenant thoughts of your
sweet face drawing close to mine
with those hazel eyes pearcing
my haven once again
insurection
sprits drawn in two
half of me to heaven
and the rest of with you
I must tell you all, that while I took my time.
I figured out something’s about how to rhyme.
I was once I child with no direction I now have a true poets inflection.
I have come back here to spread my words,
Across you all so your sprits will not fall.
Now that I can set things straight,
It’s time for me to resuscitate!
A joy it is to be back here,
A life anew and without fear!
With all this light I do feel up…
But there is still some darkness in my cup!
Dull reflections in a vibrating shallow,
vibrant greens glow against neutral grey.
I find shelter to feign calm stillness,
the trees roar their dissent.
“come to me prophesies, come all foreboding, come
sprits and visions.”
Yet the mused well-spring is hollow,
a confused pubescent male in the Rites of May.
Branches convulse and mutter, roots in silence.
The May Pole is entwined with the serpent.
Water in, Blood out, comes all life from
fissures and incisions.
A lovely dawning
paints a rose tinted sky.
it will rain later,
the sky will disrobe
and fall as summer tears;
a rain softly sorrowful
yet drenched in a gentle joy.
So young and fair
are the fresh skirts
of this new washed air;
a breeze lifts our eyes
to the hem of heaven.
When the rain comes,
when the gray air trembles,
for it most certainly will,
our sprits will know
both delight and drear,
as we recall,
the lovely artistry,
the fine first blush
of this rosy dawn.