Short Straws Poems

straws
at sixes and sevens
on a crow's nest...

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When we feel life is slipping we grasp for anything...

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Ignoring my flaws…
Icy marrow from red straws
Misery on pause...

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  Long days order strong drinks

    budding ideas ~ two straws, methinks...

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Clutching at straws
in my increasingly
desperate world
turning slower by the day
just stops....

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clutching at straws
heads touching they slowly sipped
a shared ice cream soda

John G. Lawless
9/22/2020...

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Clutching at straws
That break
Metaphorically 
The camels back
The waysides chaplen says
Bring back heroin
We can't control 
Ice addicts...

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In piss-stained linens
and rented beds 
they lay.

Grasping straws 
of forgotten places
in time.

Begging the touch
of a spouse
long dead....

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once a small munchkin from oz

searching for baskets of straws

found him a small toad

near yellow brick road

say buddy got any gauze.
...

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Roast Welsh mutton from Brecon
a Yorkshire pudding
A Melton Mowbray pork pie
Wensleydale cheese straws
Bakewell Tart and cream
Draught Bitter
Beer !...

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Just open your eyes,the sky in width.Objective set to frolic in the field.Youth is felt as
daffodils brush your toes.Chest caressed long straws of wheat.Exchanged laughter-birds
chirp a tasteful song....

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"Jailhouse Rock," pocket combs
Jokes at the burger joint
Jiving to "Jitterbug"
Johnny Cash for a dime
Jumbo milkshake, two straws
Just one more song and dance
Journey's hit, "Faithfully"

9-12-2023...

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Grasping at straws
In hopes to cope
Collecting flaws
A heavy cloak

One by one
She picks apart
Goals, undone
Bleeding heart

A homely sight
She has become
Though options bright
She’s come undone...

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long night
starlight
under a moon
that swoons

waiting
longing
pulling at straws
our life on pause

token promises
hits and misses
while darkness looms
silence speaks volumes


Posted on October 19, 2024...

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Tribalism:
You break the rules
and become a renegade.

         *

Do not know 
any god. All the
deities were man-made

         * 

In dark, you 
will recognize the faces
of unslept poems.


Satish Verma...

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There are times 
         When I'm alone
       That I feel so lost
         I am no longer
           Who I was
          I am not yet
        Who I hope to be
     Somewhere in the middle
     I grasp at empty straws...

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Deprived of love and hope 
She finds it hard to cope 
Yearning to fill her empty bowl 
To the devil she would sell her soul.

-------------------------------
Four Line Contest in Rhyme
Hosted by Silent One
Placed 2nd...

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?Trump Table

So are we able?
Try and reverse Trump table;
Not find a fable.

What does annoy
Another Trump deploy
Who will enjoy?

Grasp at many straws
And we took another pause
Is Trump Santa Clause? 

Think about it.

Jim Horn...

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Guilty, regret--Penalty, death--score four.
Draw straws, short-shot, long-hung, two-kill-one.
His short-[bang], his long-[hang]. Lose, I'm done for.
Broad swords, last breath be death. He's dead ... I won!
No, the court has ruled ... death. Bring out three more....

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little pig beware the lupine cliques-
that prowl the woods of politics
the scent of money they adore
as all the while they howl for more
yowling from the forest floor
beguiling with their wily tricks
forego the straws and fragile sticks
and build your house of bricks!...

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     Life has its ups and downs
        its highs and lows
     Barren stretches
        endless plateaus 

     News of births bring renewal
        those of death give us pause
     to contemplate mortality and refuel
        of unequal length, the straws we draw
...

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All medicines of survival have been exhausted
The last pill has been consumed just now
So don't cut open my wound so wide,
That I would die from loss of blood.... 
Before I'd be able to find a person;
Who could sew it up,
Who could help me linger on the straws of facade.......

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Patiently listening to the mumbling of the needy
I've tried to help them all
Forsaken, the loved ones remain wishing on my maybe
Grasping unto my spoken straws as they fall
I wish I could find heaven twice
This time to lift up and rejoice
To nurture every night, that ought to be nice...

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Dedicated to a fine poet on soup Gershon Wolf.





In an old cowboy town in Wichita 
Staying alive meant being quick on the draw
The Straws and Jones shoot out
Was bloody without doubt
All killed except one he was' The Last Straw'.


Written 18th July 2019....

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Every time I shed a tear,
My soul runs down my cheek.
An emptiness engulfs me,
Every day of the week.

Misguided and alone,
Grasping at the straws.
Trying to decipher life,
Never stopping to pause.

Our time is borrowed,
A gift that we abuse.
We must make it matter,
In the end we all lose....

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