Short Stomps Poems
Short Stomps Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Stomps by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Stomps by length and keyword.
Death!
I sometimes am
a tearless perplexing jolt,
heart stopping,
as I stomps you out.
© Al Juman The "said" Poet
Off to Florida he stomps
On the lawn, one final chomp
He did what he said
He pardoned the dead
As he leaves, he drains the swamp
she stares at me with amber eyes
looks like a lion, no surprise
on the prowl, like a giant cat
she stomps off angry, just like that
While doing sit-ups,
My big, arrogant brother stomps on my feet
“That burns my feet, bro!!”
While in recital,
My oldest brother motions to stop clapping
…My hands are red, bro…
PUDDLE DUCK
i
ride the rain
incessant,
conspicuously
adolescent, stomps
its feet
in restless temper —
puddle duck spawns
3/4/2020
Poor Cinderella was supposed to be transformed
But her Fairy Godmother couldn't grant her wish,
She broke her wand, when she sat upon it
Now, she stomps around acting rather childish.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Aug.26/2005
bird
watching
a couple
embracing life
in the magick of love and their closeness
wonders why they're not paying attention
to his flustered
squawks and stomps
because
he
is
alone
and not with
his own true love
he is a pigeon on a soul mission
Great stomps across the frozen lake
ice six feet under
Great cracks and ice thunder as we sped over
bubbles, white mystery under
some trees bent under recent ice
some fires burnt hot
heads up hair back, we threw our hats
and sacrificed
to the winter wind
Summer stomps in loud and boisterous, the sound of the ocean and roller coasters.
Fall sneaks in on leaf muffled feet with the soft crackle of campfire.
Winters snows fall quietly, at first, then howl while they stay.
Spring walks in as gentle rains and songs of baby birds
It surrounds me,
Conquers my soul.
I try to do what's right,
It tells me my feelings are wrong.
I walk a tightrope,
Its hand shakes me off.
Nothing can control it.
It rules my every move.
It stomps me down,
I fight to defeat it.
There is no escape,
The power of guilt.
Bull-black boots
stamping
like beating skin-tight drums
steel capped
with arched hands
clanking castanets
with crimson coronations
like a goldfinch neck
A guitar's fevered fret
crescendos
a rite of spring
kicking dust from bloodied boots
stomps off the romany's yoke
The lone wolf howls his fury at the meadow flowers
They are shocked.
Lily says to Lilac, I thought he was supposed to be howling at the moon.
You tell him Lilac whispers.
Wolf stomps past them, angry; hitting the earth hard.
Smashes dandelions and wild daises in his path.
Not me, whispers Lily, long after he is out of hearing.
By old walkway
Small people play
Frolic greets fun
Here on the run
Playground meets glee
Stomps wild and free
Feelings fling cheer
Time now sets dear
No time for fear
Or killjoy here
Round and round we
Shout out wildly
Feelings now voice
Moments of poise
Leon Enriquez
09 March 2017
Singapore
By old walkway
Small people play
Frolic greets fun
Here on the run
Playground meets glee
Stomps wild and free
Feelings fling cheer
Time now sets dear
No time for fear
Or killjoy here
Round and round we
Shout out wildly
Feelings now voice
Moments of poise
Leon Enriquez
09 March 2017
Singapore
Donald Trump-
will go down in history as a presidential chump,
yet, even when he stomps his feet, some blindly love him;
he is like a child playing a game with an ending grim.
________________________
July 30, 2018
Poetry/Clerihew/Donald Trump
Copyright Protected, ID 1047-239-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
She told me that I'd best obey
My daughter always has her way
When I say 'No,' she stomps and pouts
Then calls her friends to cuss me out
I don't know why she acts so mean
I fulfill her every dream
With the latest tech and clothes
She's a fashionista head to toe
She's realized all of her fantasies
Except, I guess, getting rid of me
When you want something so much,
you just never give up
It's your anchor in stormy winds
It's your sunrise come anew
It's your light at tunnel's end
You may never be certain of it
But it pushes you forward anyway
Through hurdles and stomps
Overcoming most bumps
As the turbulence hits
Be assured of your bliss
For the thrill of a hunt,
is in the chase!
Solstice in a Velvet Hush
Written September 10, 2026 for Your Personal Poetry Wheel Challenge
Challenge Dates: September 7, 2026 - September 12, 2026.
Verified by HMS.COM / 8 - 8 - 5 - 5 - 8
***************
Relationships bloom in the hush,
Where solstice stomps its purple flush.
No anger, no storm,
Just calmness in form,
A feather of love in the crush.
Written September 10, 2026 for Your Personal Poetry Wheel Challenge
Challenge Dates: September 7, 2026 - September 12, 2026.
Verified by HMS.COM / 8 - 8 - 5 - 5 - 8
***************
Relationships bloom in the hush,
Where solstice stomps its purple flush.
No anger, no storm,
Just calmness in form,
A feather of love in the crush.
storms happen
happenstance stomps
selfish selfies inherit the wind
windmills become grist for the mill
Armageddon trending now
Utopia is Merriam-Webster's Word of the Day
go figure (& lie about the figures)
too many figurative flies in the proverbial soup
words float like moths to the factoid
sting like a bumbling bezoar
fly like a flock of birdbrains
put that in your pipe & tweet it
So with a moose in my closset, and these mice in my ears, you ask me to spy a Walrus ?
So the moose turns into geese and our geese turn to a moose and the walrus turns into a
hundred clams ?
Then ! our new moose stomps the clams until shining silver coats the sand and 1 crying gold
fairy cries a space elf..
The geese eat the silver and fly away gold ducks.. but nothing really changed for them at all.
Form:
WRITING FOR A CONTEST
If I write
for a contest
I battle
with my Pen
My Pen
likes to go
Where it pleases
Wander through forests
Jump over fences
Dance around moons
My Pen
doesn’t care
Who watches
Who claps
Who smiles or frowns
My Pen
Scoffs at scores
My Pen
Stomps on numbers
Ignores prizes
My Pen
Grinds up glory
But
My Pen
Doesn’t
pay the bills
He stomps down the path!
Oh how I feel his wrath!
He screams at me!
I'm about to pee!
He shoves me down a hole!
Oh how he dances on the telephone pole!
Flirts with every girl he sees!
Please Badaway, don't touch me!
He is the bully of high school!
How he thinks he is soooo cool!
He weighs two o' eight.
Oh how he used me for his manly bait!
I hate him, don't you see!
Why won't anyone listen to me?!?!
A small hand tugs fingers -
my son and I,
plus 30 time-traveling years –
both of us pulling together for once.
The wooden horses spin,
just missing each other
by decades.
An appaloosa stomps the air.
"Look daddy the spotty one leaps highest!"
Little fingers spring open, gallop away
toward the carousel.
A five-year-old boy lifts me,
onto the smooth saddle,
holds me tight,
as a memory goes around again.
I watch a little girl,
Young and naive,
Full of energy and life,
Oblivious to the world around her.
This little girl talks to everyone,
Plays with everything,
Explores all items in sight;
Like nothing matters but her creativity.
She's a drama queen,
Always wants to get her way.
Stomps her feet up and down,
But she smiles through it all.
A light in the dark,
The spark of other's lives,
All beautiful;
I wish that was still me.