Short Stolid Poems
Short Stolid Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Stolid by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Stolid by length and keyword.
Stolid, terse
Ferrous verse
Raw, crude
Pressing lewd
Fiery, rage
Warring sage
Wild, free
As the open sea
Clever, deft
Mindful theft
Longing, attentive
Yet pensive
She’s a stolid sentinel standing on the rugged knoll
Standing silently, alone, like an old, weathered soul,
Over many years she has seen taken a dreaded toll
Many an admirer of hers has championed her goal.
written January 25, 2022
Birdsong in the Early Morning\
Would Bliss My Soul
/If It Were You Singing
To My Lonely Heart\
Would Crush My Stolid Heart
With the Weight of Untold Utterance
After, and Only Since
The Bleeding Trees
Have Remained
So lonely, and Forever
Unperched By Your Quiet Melody
Rendezvous'
If the callous fingers of stolid silence could but stir me
To rise with the bright radiant ever-changing flight of moon
And await new birth of sea fairies dancing to Neptune's wake
Wherein the majestic blue sea cries out mightily to flee.
Robert J. Lindley. April 2nd 1971
Quatrain
it's teeth
some jaw around
my head, biting
baiting an air beast
wintering wind
anaconda squeeze
of miserly monsters
that I'm dragging
as I walk and wings
whose tips stipple
cheeks, reddening
through slow-mo
torture but somehow
that winter stroll
hidden critters galore
is a glorious break
beckoning staleness
from stolid afternoons
Inhale
my heartbeat slows,
blood sluggish
through stenotic vessels
unwilling to expand,
to breathe
to let blood flow
untenable, this suffocation
this dampening
it speaks of tired eyes,
of stolid limbs,
of stultified need
torpid blood,
when will you give up
your self-imposed stricture,
your closely guarded fear,
your wariness
and inhale
My love
jouncing blood through me
like fireworks
and my stolid hands
caressing forth murals
painted over
these colors, yours to bear
in the darkest habitations
of cavern and canopy
This earth, a mother once
blindfolded, now mirthfully
shoulders our instigations
This earth, a child with no
dreams of aversion,
covets to understand you
and I as one story.
full of emotion, i come barreling sea,to set course, pass wave, releasing its inner- path you have stolid upon me, a daring catch,that eludes dramatically, revealed hunger, to its devouring taste, I bare touch, of loves true limitations, to share my life, with every breath, you breath beyond the waking hour, because I walk the line, that lead me to you, your heart, I love, forever....
scarcely noted tinge of moribund intent
in stealth advances to dull selene’s
full aspect with penumbral shade
luna’s wizened glow, its fate assured,
in grim surrender—stolid umbra
spreads somber cloak of death
benighted orb, a wound erupts,
suffused with crimson, yet artemis endures—
poets’ pens stilled by mid-april’s red moon
4th Place - Red Moon Contest
Click above on 'About this Poem' to learn more.
[Re-posted]
From dregs
of twilight embers,
pale dawn’s embrace—
and naught but rusty glow
stolid umbra to banish,
in wan resolve,
from these, my solitary rooms.
Echoes.
Small children laughing,
afar and ago—
profound diminuendo.
Still, I grasp—
clutching sand—
a dying world to hold.
But pain’s recall
subsists—
and, shuddering,
ebbs,
into my eyes—
drips through my fingers
and onto the floor.
Love blossomed in the darkest night
Morn's gilding beams to spite
Night Primrose preened by tender blight
Sphinx moth soft tips caress; sugary nectar slight
Perfumed aroma doth prating, intoxicated courtier incite
Glazed petals with dewy fans stream delight
Golden cup a succoring bosom from which passions alight
Delicate, cream veil eclipses pallid, stolid moonlight
With availing breeze your dreamy parasol on Cupid's wings takes flight
Remember me
When I was young
As I remember you
The cost of time
Is much too dear
And hard to know it true
A wind of years
Has passed us by
A fall of age is here
But I cannot forget you so
And winters cold is near
Your memory of stolid time
It does proceed you so
I've but to take one
From the mind
And spring begins to grow
I can't begin to say again
How I remember you
But seasons pass
And we at last
Among a lucky few
Her puffy face,
Bears no grace,
Her look; stolid, vacant,
And expression absent.
Malar flush,
Contrasting yellowish tint,
Of velvety skin,
Resembling a peach,
Flabby tongue,
Thickened and broad,
Tardiness of speech,
And sluggish to respond.
Her dry, coarse skin,
Has elasticity lost,
And covers underneath,
Lots of subcut fat,
Swelling of the face,
And swelling of the limbs,
But waterlogged they are not,
Apply pressure, yet pit they not.
Form:
When I die
Do not remember me
My corpse will not care;
Do not draw me back there
With words you never said
While I drew in air;
Spare me the ceremony
And all the orchestrated grief.
If you go on with your funeral show
Stopping your mouths for a moment or two
I doubt the angels will be impressed
With a moment's self-restraint
They will look on with stolid eyes
Bearing with you for a little while
Until the time comes
For you to go,
And for you to be ferried
To the fires below.
The head the priest..Or pastor stolid.' And a
A tail un-tamed that can strike ( most horrid.') Or wave in joy..Before the Lord, who rules and orders who claims all rewards.' Who tells the tail to shake or strike like a scorpion in the blinding desert light..He alone gives the order..The tail shows his joy or His judgement, with satan He now toys.' Head for judgement and direction yet
The tail you won't read..' though you will know of its action, when you have been stunned by its speed.'