Short Steam Poems
Short Steam Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Steam by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Steam by length and keyword.
Choof, choof, choof the train
Along the rickety track,
Load the coal, toot the whistle,
Cross the trestle, clickety clack.
Strange to hear Bolero
over the loud speaker
when my thoughts
hesitate
then
steam
to textures
intimate and moist
Boiling water evaporate
Leaves not but to incorporate steam
6/1/19
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.2019©
Like steam I float and drift, aimlessly
dripping like warm bottled water
spilt onto a floor, leaving the lazy
footprints of a dawdling daughter.
my eyes stuck inside
the sun reminds me to breathe —
release of pressure
parallel to instant pot
each morning bright with prospects
4/27/2020
Gyrating naked body flesh
Grinding thumping boobs and butts press
"Toys" part of this wild scene
Chains and whips being mean
For battle wounds hidden not seen
If you boil water - you get steam.
Boil my life - you get a dream.
So it is, when I look up
from an empty cup,
at a softly winding curl,
I think I see a girl.
From time to time, some people bath on steam of ignorance, trying to nose and bark on things that their empty minds have no capacity to understand.
January 23, 2024, PST, SPC
Methinks I'm starting to run outta steam
Need some kooky stuff, to get back on the beam
Any brilliant ideas
My fine feathered fleas
Could lose my status as “lim-man” supreme
The age of steam has surely long gone
Engines puffing away like gracful swans
Creating puffy white clouds
Like “look up here” out loud
A delightful glorious scene to gaze upon
Listen to poem:
"Toot Toot" says the choo choo train.
I think I can, I think I can,
but then again,
perchance it's much too soon
to be going far too fast
for the downhill lane.
"Toot Toot" here I come,
whatsoever!
If I were to build up a head of steam;
Not get hung up on person's scheme;
And not caught,
In the onslaught;
Ideas appeared like bright light beam.
Do you think that God is supporting my position and poems?
Sweetening is the morning due
sheets of mist enveloping two
Shower curtain our naked view
balmy gazes, we see right through
Sight to behold, her beauty true
saturated, midst honey dew
Please always be my bluebird
My love for you is true
A door inside me opened
Into the room you flew
The door then closed forever
It's only me and you
I'm sure that we'll find something
That we both like to do
Black, white and gray smoke trail a mile long, working all the way
The fireman shoveling more coal, heading for the next water stop
Across the country, "The Iron Horse", goes down the rails
Form:
Full steam ahead my friends
There is no half heart needing to defend
For life is good
So make your plans as you should
See the world in all its wonders
There is no need to worry or go asunder.
© Paul Warren Poetry
I want to be the pain in your paintings
Be the milk and the strain in your tea
Hold you in my arms forever
Or until you decide to leave
Then I'll make plans to start all over
Drive the car down to the beach
Set myself on fire
And sink deep
Rising steam
Mighty engine wayward theme
piston rods ejecting steam
vibrant alive this the motion
from city town to the ocean
long gone now the huff and puff
screaming whistle growls and gruff
enduring rhyme upon the track
rhythm of the clickety clack.
© Harry J Horsman 2010
Clickety clack, clickety clack,
Carriages coming along the track,
An old steam train puffing smoke,
Carrying plenty of country folk.
Steaming around another bend,
Sandy's journey coming to an end,
Her whistle blowing, announcing to all,
She's making one last station call.
I'll just throw life at it!!!
go hard!!!
Full on!!!
bring it on...
just bring it!!!
bring me the real thing...
don't bring me a dream...
you're in my way...
get off this path...
I can make this happen...
I am on fire...
I have arrived-here at last...
It's imperative to alter the narrative,
so get out a round of ream.
There's a knot in the plot,
a lost theme with out a seam..
You pause and you pivot.
The script leaves you livid,
falling short of your dream.
Stopped, stalled between acts,
little time to retrack,
as your pen is running out of steam.
Shakespeare toiled over double trouble the steam rose from the water in the marsh as the cauldron bubbled, shreds of spirit bound steam tickled ruddy cheeks and sought interminable refuge in the heat, the night rolled over us the stream went silent, the palaver in the morning is of the bead steam-driven and compiled.
Lucky steampunk faerie finally found an adventure novel
Deep in the nook of the black forest’s sycamore grove
Especially for you, was written in cursive inside the cover
She had no idea who wrote it, but enjoyed the sentiment
I told you a human would like your book, an owl whispered.
“Not if you tell her it was written by a mouse,” his lunch said.
It’s cold outside, but from a dream
I wake up to the sound of steam.
The room is toasty, opportune
For staying in my snug cocoon.
The gentle hiss as background noise
My half-asleep self quite enjoys,
A remnant of when I was small,
My brothers sleeping down the hall.
To make the coming day seem rosy,
There is nothing near as cozy
As that warming welcome hiss,
Deceiving us that naught’s amiss.
Hot Breath
excited crowd waits impatiently
earthquakes shake the ground
lava heated boiling water
pushes towards the surface
hot steam spews from the vent
anticipation grows, ready for the eruption
a mighty whoosh and the vented steam
reaches for the blue sky
for a duration of ninety seconds
the crowd is awed by natures power
with a gurgle the steam cloud
settles back into the earth to await
another cycle