Short Stubby Poems
Short Stubby Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Stubby by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Stubby by length and keyword.
there once was a boy named Zach
he is a little bit fat
he play the drums
he has stubby thumbs
he enjoys correcting you with facts
Ten monitors
Nine hours
Eight safety messages
Seven binders
Six coffees
Five computers
Four clipboards
Three maps
Two microphones
One stubby pencil
I heard of a woman whose hubby
was somewhat squat, rotund, and chubby.
The might of his thrust
was rightfully just
overcoming the short and stubby.
The little Manx cat
has a short and stubby tail
This is how they're born.
They come from the Isle of Man.
It's out in the Irish Sea.
Fat, oblong, rotund, roly poly
elongated, flawed, stubby,
dented, dusty, malformed
oranges globes - scattered
helter skelter - in rows
of farmers' fields...
Form:
Ugly Dolls
Have a doll
Her name is Pearl
She is not a pretty girl
Nose is stubby
Eyes are gray
Clothes are old
Hair stubbly hay
She’s not pretty
Clothes aren't smart
Her crooked smile
Has hooked my heart
Theme - Loving Food.
People Chubby
Short and Stubby.
Hearty Eaters
Egg Beaters.
Gaining Weight
Without Faith.
Filling Stomachs
Lying in Hammocks.
What a Folly
O how Jolly.
Loving Food
Always in the Mood.
A large mass of pelicans
grace the waters
of fort loramie lake
in mid-march
a sign of springs coming
large orange beaks hang
off small white
stubby necks
as they parade across
calm waters
gliding graciously
in unison
Bright, orange, white, flicker.....
Two black eyes, one dark mouth viewed,
I'm the flame inside
They trim the flesh out
Stubby children's hands; entrails
I'm the flame inside
My face-like windows
My removable roof-top
I'm the flame inside
Freckled hands
Prominent blue veins
Lucky wrist bracelets
Swollen finger.
Spider bite scar.
Stubby fingernails.
Birthmark.
Holding
Clapping
Plucking.
Wrapping.
Painting.
Cooking.
Lifting.
Shaking.
Perpetually busy.
Prominent blue veins
Freckled hands
Pierced like a hot poker chip
plunging hard to the bone.
The angry wasp escapes
and I’m left with his lance
in my stubby forefinger.
Copyright © 2010 By Caryl S. Muzzey
First Place Winner ~ "Feel The Feeling” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Paula Swanson
May 25, 2010
Three chubby short stubby snorting gnomes came into the field.
They held a skeleton, a cauldron, and a jack-o-lantern from our yield.
Give that Jack back! I challenged the thief, who would not show me his eyes.
They ran off with grandma’s favorite cauldron too, no big surprise!
My sister had her baby, just the other day.
She had her on the twenty seventh of May.
She has alot of hair, just like her dad.
She had the hiccups, that made her mad.
Her cheeks are soft, and chubby.
Her limbs are short, and stubby.
She has her daddys eyes, and her mothers nose.
Cute as a button, and they named her Mylah Rose.
By: Cherica Eckiwaudah
The stubby brown pencil
Will it make some marks?
On the white blank sheet spread
Where thoughts can be stored
To ponder over backwards
Amid avalanches of motives
Often habitually sliding
In moods of darker futility.
Finding solace in crumpled sheets
In foils of curtain hung around
The window that helps to preview
Some dimensions beyond the
Stagnant waters of the constants.
Sometimes just a trim; others, a drastic clip;
around-the-world trip with one mighty snip.
Children and scissors together, tempt fate;
by the time you check, it's already too late.
Like closing hen-house doors after the chicks are out;
no need to whimper, get angry or shout.
She's taken the scissors, achieved a slam dunk;
whacked her dog-ears off, leaving two stubby chunks.
He whirred around for quite some time
hounding his stubby runt tail
copious spittle, a flying trail
coating the walls with sticky slime;
before stopping, panting a spell
then restarting counterclockwise
as if it would less tantalize;
the tail continued to rebel.
The cat looked on in feline scorn
I, in turn, observed both dog and cat,
who was having fun; me, the cat,
or dog pursuing a chase forlorn?
Center>Blooms bow their heads
in their terracotta bomb-shelters.
Distant thunderstorms nibble
at thin, bare-boned stems.
At last rain falls out of a booming air.
Yesterday nailed its skin to the sky,
now it sloughs in sloshing shreds.
This morning, mourning doves clatter
and roof-dance on wet tin.
The air has even revived my fat dog,
it chases its stubby tail
for the first time this summer.
Blooms in their terracotta bomb-shelters,
bow their heads, but now
a distant thunderstorm nibbles
at my bare-boned flower bed.
The heat has crushed the clouds at last.
Rain falls out of a booming air.
Yesterday nailed its dry skin to the sky,
later it sloughed in sloshing shreds.
This morning, mourning doves clatter,
and roof-dance.
The air even revives my fat dog,
who now chases a stubby tail
for the first time this summer.
Mornings are littered
with gnawed husks,
charred mouse-tails.
March is burning its strew.
The limbless
braid a thawing earth
into knotty threads.
On wet lines flannel shirts
poach in a warming smaze.
while gust-hogs
still attack the hedgerows.
In coddled kitchens
muggy boiled cabbages
envelope
a pottage of sky.
Stubby snuffles
herald undertows
of new marrow.
April paddles in
with wet crumbs
and buttercups.
.
stubby digits
mitts tuh foots
thump'kin visage
nimble
pooch
tuh
monz' taut tensile
thick
rock'n
cauze'n breathe'z inhale'z
mine
loss
Feel all alone on a desert isle
Since you left me without a word
Please come back my sweet young thing
I admit I've been quite a turd
Hereby promise to honour and obey
And be a good little hubby
There's only one thing I insist on though
Stop calling it a 'sweet little stubby'
Very sensitive about the guy downstairs
Been friends for quite a while
Even stubbies have feelings you know
So help him get back his sweet smile
© Jack Ellison 2012
The child played on the shore all day,
Preferring fortress peace to boat,
The noon-bright gulls knifed waves of air,
Blurs in the brief expanse of moat.
One tower rose, a stubby knot,
The grand gate, scratches on a wall,
And no bridge spanned the moat at all,
For sea had cleaned the beach of clay.
In half-light limped a fragment moon,
As youthful eyes watched waves draw near,
His stark foot left a seaward ruin,
That sweeping crests rushed without thought.