Short Subterranean Poems
Short Subterranean Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Subterranean by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Subterranean by length and keyword.
Stabbed subterranean with a feudal dart
Crackled, corroded and combusted on every part
Heart is the only part left apart.
Now I've seen everything, a really strange alien
With four legs, four arms and an overly large cranium
Spoke in broken English
Skin kinda pinkish
Walked with a limp and preferred the subterranean
The head of a gargoyle
rests in one hand
the scent of olive oil
aloft in the wind
While elves make mischief
in sweatshops subterranean
guilt storms man's conscience
'gainst backdrops Notre Damian
Patiently waiting in a line
eyeballed an wary
harsh barking of subterranean cultures
standing weary and inured
to the rotten
fug
the rotten
oxygen
inside the high walls and wire, the weighted stone of
the convicted
existing like convicts
there
the love
masterly
weaves
the norm of cannon
inside to outside!
oh the bruise of heart
won't be cured
cause outsider love unsafe!
subterranean worlds
the royal palace of heart
where love lives with free will!
-18/11/19 CTG, BD
"the beat banned band"
no piccolo
or sopranino
nor no no not
sopranissimo
the hep and hip
cats where it's at
play subterranean
subcontrabass
Doctor
Sax
seen at and as
part of the scene
saying we'd
be smoking
and are the
ContraBand
The pretty ones are sky dwellers.
Often arrogant- highly inaccessible unless you have deep pockets.
The plain ones are earthbound and stable -somewhat compliant.
The homely are of the subterranean world.
them is aloof and complicated, largely ignored.
God says angels come in many forms.
Mourning Commute
would be phoenixes
masquerade in Gotham
snowbirds alighting
outrunning the cock's crow
leaving their respective nests
cold
huddled in subterranean tunnels
awaiting the next iron worm
three piece sardines
breaststroking up steam
in relentless pursuit of false promises
Once lit by flickering torch light
with animal tallow mixed with ocher
daubed on subterranean rock walls
now lit by streetlights or LED headlamp
slashes of spray paint and magic markers
splattered on concrete bridge abutments,
boxcars, or walls of tenement ghettos,
but the message is the same
we were here.
Smallest of ants could be called a hexaped.
Ants by the millions spew from a subterranean bed.
Cast(s) of thousands work relentlessly to be fed.
Long hours of constant foraging or many go dead.
Shadows of their incessant hunger we face with dread!
For the "Smallest Ants Cast Long Shadows," contest.
Form:
You stood with crossed arms
Pathways
up automatically
like greenhouse gas
rising
up and up
and disembodied voices
marking your progress.
Flashing signs mark the time
that no-one else seems to feel
Subterranean thoughts
Sepulchral dreams spilled out
long masses of people march expectant
to the mouth of the mall
and herds feed at colourful stalls
Here from the womb of a grave rose a carcass
Stabbed subterranean with a feudal dart
Crackled, corroded and combusted on every part
Heart seems to be sizzled and left apart.
All mighty above started crying in the clouds
Tears geared up the grimness and went gloomy
Smiles sacrificed their superiority,
saluted that venerated veteran of aspiring life.
Hi, greetings earthlings, I can see and hear you
Come one day soon we shall know one another
Your world is young, bright blue and yielding fruitful
My world is subterranean meph green void
I know how you live and what you like to eat
I see you space travel in your rocket ships
Maybe you shall reach my planet called Dreth
Stay awhile, then I go to visit your world.
red thunderstorms
in the distance waves
of rain and air kiss
where are you now
wet micro busting
chaotic turbulence
destructive and intense
violent kisses on planes
are crashing debris
where are you
moving yellow jackets
stinging voyage of my
longing dangers of love
organic cabbage fields
rasping voice of subterranean
monsters blue night dropping
where are you
sep 15 2016
7.13 am
Form:
I am told there are many streams in the desert
In subterranean tunnels beneath scorching sands,
Where cool, refreshing waters constantly exert,
I am told, there are many streams in the desert.
And many a man has died in this realm of thirst
Some came to an unfortunate end by evil hands
I am told there are many streams in the desert
In subterranean tunnels beneath scorching sands.
written June 22, 2021
Freedom, flight.
Omnipotent?
No, over what?
I am alone
In this subterranean soulscape
It is heaven, it is me!
NO, WAIT!
ME?!
NO! I am still traped!
Accursed self-delusion, you hath given me hope!
How could you be so cruel?!
Now I can feel again… now I can burn.
I am infernal, PUT ME OUT!
My heart is not ice
I am vulnerable!
I must again turn cold
Again… I must kill
For if I kill, I am different
For if I kill, I am not them
Lo and Behold
A Subterranean grip
Alas a woman's mass appears in this Word Trip
She cries for Ahab to head ashore "Give the creature the slip"!
Avast a wide mast unfurls across the ship
The Captain's cries for the harpoon are drowned out by the cracked whip
The wondrous size of the White Whale appears from the drip
The sheer weight of the beast causing the schooner to flip
The showdown is on
between Captain Ahab and Moby Dick
Form:
Slumbering woods bloom
under beetle plowed pulp.
Up above,
the canopy is bare,
and sheds only white zero’s.
Beetles hum beneath the rot,
detonate inaudible chitinous chimes,
troglodyte tones
under a dormant mulch.
Everywhere,
ambiguity buds open and close
in a subterranean flurry.
When the ice breaks its quash and quell,
they surface
round and gleaming
to chase new laid morsels down;
their feeding
turning earth for the seeding sun.
I am verb! Created by the divine breath,
coming from primitive events...
Essence of ethereal circumstances,
Plasma of thickening, voids
Of invisible cosmic mysteries,
juice of amalgamated conceptions!
Succinct metamorphosis of balance.
In my primitive molecule, the genesis
the core of physical-chemical reactions...
It is from the axis of me that magically spring,
The health of subterranean energies
And the phantasmagoria of utopian beings!
Trickle tears 'pon velvet sand,
the desert evergreen,
sprouting forth in ushers;
waiting for the moon to see.
The greenest thumb of all,
isn't green;
It's gravity, the push and pull
the subterranean splurge,
whose words deluge;
...wafting in breezes.
Where scarce is emotion,
sorrow is a lake.
Where patient devotion is opaque;
It's transparency becomes infectious.
Upward.
Upward.
Reaching high,
where tears resign themselves
to die;
where the clouds are weeping.
Form:
The salt of their skin has its flayed
geometry, sharp crevices beneath
the classroom where my dark teeth
tried the savoury chalk and failed.
I have been a teacher for the sum
of my disjointed life; never knew
otherwise, never learnt, as I grew,
how to study the breadcrumb
where the heights have gathered.
My students, ants in my breath,
state they are builders of words
in silence and thrive, feathered
like fangless tigers, within death,
my blandest subterranean birds.