Short Staves Poems
Short Staves Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Staves by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Staves by length and keyword.
the morning sunrise
for a brief moment in time
gold drives out the blue
the evening sunset
for a brief moment in time
gold staves off the black
A power saw
can slice through wood with awe
cut kindling or make a table leg
or staves for a wine keg
just make sure you get your digits out of the way in time
or you may be using your fingers only to count to nine.
A wise old oak, the image of a long dead god.
Staves of mystery and fate, nine horses all unshod.
Ancient youthful rays, a gray stone palisade.
A sword that has scarce drawn blood, blackthorn and a bit of nightshade.
In a shallow grave
Behind a big old whitewashed house
where a tattered flag still waves
beside a small cross made with staves
and in the wood, clearly carved
with the spirit of devolution
states, "Here interned today
Lies the US Constitution "
Form:
Til the last sword-like flicker
Keeps, as 'twere defended
As much as spellbound.
Camp fire's, not only. That starred
Above. Dread nights confound.
Or that, bare wick-held, staves off
What have, for phantom thoughts
Efformed; to assail.
This godsend. This seraph, Light.
O'er Death will prevail.
Among such smog-soaked folk
As curdle-coil in cloud-spun smoke
Along the grain-cut naves
Which, God-heavy, lie stiff as staves
On sad-strung ouds, yet creep
In concrete-crumbled static sleep
Over cambered cities.
Whose peaks and troughs ebb with pities;
A ring-road tidal flow
With human crest now sunk below...
The waters rise again and flood the graves.
We named this hurricane, we battened down.
The ocean’s had enough of floating staves;
the waters rise again, and flood the graves
with names. A uniformed policeman saves
a child. Beyond his reach, two others drown.
The waters rise again and flood the graves.
We named this hurricane. We battened down.
Form:
The cactus is a joyless plant
which to dry slopes inclines,
and those who would engage with it
are sure to feel its spines.
But once in every year or two,
the cactus brings forth fruits:
and then its golden succulence
its grimmer self confutes.
Before the "chumba" pine swells up,
the cactus flames in flower,
and I would brave its fiercest staves,
to see it in that hour!
You are my light,
you are my sun,
that brings me to life
when the day has begun.
You are my nourishment,
you are my seed,
that staves my hunger
when I need to feed.
You are my strength,
you are my power,
that keeps me going,
every minute,every hour.
You are my fire,
you are my heat,
that gives my heart
it's reason to beat.
You are my treasure
so hard to find.
You're every thought
held in my mind.
Without you
oceans of tears I would cry,
no more reason to live,
I'd long to die.