Short Surveys Poems
Short Surveys Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Surveys by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Surveys by length and keyword.
The sovereign of the midnight sky
Surveys with sleepy eyes
Dawn teasing the horizon
And fades into tomorrow
12/03/2011
A tired man surveys his field
in the morning, still.
Honking alerts his senses,
giving him a thrill.
Can you believe these...
wild geese...with moon on their wings
dropped him to his knees?
serpent
slithers secretly
surveys surroundings
sibilates spittle
snake skin shines
she snipes
savours seeds
24th September
All over Washington D.C.
He flies with pomp and pride
Donald Trump, President
Surveys the swamp overhead
Of wrath and promises bold
He vows to cleanse the deep
Swamp's dark waters
His axe to wield
America great again to keep
© daniel miltz
The king surveys his savannah
Confident in his strength
To rule, to lead, to breed
To take what he wants when he wants
His women
His food
No young blood
Dares to challenge
Free Verse or Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper, Picture # 3
4/2/19
Little puss puss
on my knee
surveys the world
in window light.
She dreams of mice
glad rainbow birds
fragrant feasts
with milk to lap.
Her gracious love
forms a womb
where I bask
to cushion cares.
The silent meows
and paddy paws
loose tangleweed
of man speak.
crown of bobby pins and bandana
she hoists a beer bottle scepter
dime store paste royal necklace
moth holed sweater Queen's cape
her well worn lawn chair throne
she stays alert in her tower
surveys her realm on Alcott Lane
nothing escapes the queen's watch
The ceiling fan that surveys the room
With its unbiased demeanour...
& sickening pace...
Mutters abuses to me...
As if it doesn't like my company...
But helpless that I'm...
I simply have to bear the bluntness...
Owing to the sweltering summer...
I can not imagine a life without its company....!
In the wet clash of tongues,
Bent to each others desire,
Open mouth in the simple fun,
We breathe our power on life.
Intoxicated lip crushes,
Desirous of each other,
In sequestered frolic grips;
Forms vocals in intoned cries:
Wish for the kinkiest function;
And surveys high performance?
It’s Spring
Today I saw
A swallow fly
And spring was nigh,
An oaken branch
Puts forth its leaves
And winter grieves.
A bluebell shoot
Escapes the earth
Which gave it birth,
A black- faced lamb
With legs unfurled
Surveys the world.
White clouds parade
The heavens above
And I’m in love.
The hill figures
Where mist dreams of the rain's reply.
Who gave us springs, streams and rivers?
Who took the trails tracks and signs.
Never mind your phone,
Lying lost by the ice cream van.
Waiting for the yawn of man.
The traffic surveys,
Numbers climb,
Hill figures,
The van chimes.
Julian
Such a long-winded line!
Still for me it is fine
Slips and rolls off the tongue
Simply meant to be sung
Sense it lacks by design.
Surveys give it a like,
Same to Andrews/Van Dyke.
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Pleiades S Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kim Merryman
Placed 3rd
© 21st April 2021
The old lawman sits
And surveys the scene
Always one to see detail
He raises the cup and sips
The hot coffee his companion
No more to wear the uniform
Or carry the gun in his hip
But there are still the stories
He tells about some other days
When men were men
And women loved them for it.
© Paul Warren Poetry
He sits under the maple
on the bench they used to share,
surveys the flames of autumn
but within he’s cold and bare.
She left home with secret beau,
and her name is now taboo.
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6 Lines Max
Bite Size Poem no19 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
Placed 3rd
© 2nd September 2021
Entertainment's nightly brewing
Turtle doves a-cooing
Brother Owl surveys the scene
with regal hoots, he courts his queen
A thousand points of light
shimmer 'round the moon
Across the dancing waters
skip voices of white loons
Rain beats swift 'gainst window panes
Homes are shuttered tight
Baby's heart stirs Momma's breast
Cozy whispers through the night
Above the clouds, the regal mountain top
Surveys the billowing sea of white below
Watches eagles on their soaring flight
And bathes in the sun's unfiltered light
Man will always try to reach above the clouds
As dreams fly from hearts that long for fullfillment
Waiting with timeless patience and solemn grace
For man's faltering footsteps upon its face.
6/13/13
Men spend time stalking...
The future Ms right.
Women spend... talking-
The moment's tough night.
Men fail through the worst,
When serious game plays.
Women fail through thirst,
When night's might delays...
Men struggle with Ruth,
The one doubt surveys.
Women struggle truth...
The one Haggai blaze.
Men best days love jail;
Women best days bail.
All this time doing everything right,
Then one by one little things fall,
Big things crash,
Everything becomes nothing,
Left with piles of papers,
Hours of research,
Millions of facts and data,
But no completed Research paper,
All the effort,
All the long nights,
Professor and Peer Advice,
Still no Research paper,
Books, surveys, journals, magazines, newspapers,
No Research Paper Indeed...
Form:
Lampyris Noctiluca
might the night deceive us
that we lack aeronautical knowledge
yet common sense askes
either friend or foe
might I have the certainty
of knowing
does one create an ambient or atmosphere
effect to showcase
ones ability
or warn of one's
readiness
or lack of readiness
the sun neither surveys
or does the moon collect data
"droni misterios del cavaliere"
"Vai-al drone Anatra"
Fulfillment is his game;
he cannot name another choice
that would enhance a life so lost
in love of all that he surveys.
The beloved too will fail, for he
must lose the trail, in his indifferent quest
to understand--
I for one, would welcome it,
for coming to the close of fantasy and life,
I'd sing not requiem, but celebration.
Enhancement finally takes place
with a shoulder's shrug.
~
A bad moon on the rise,
Grinning like sour cheese,
Drips a rivulet of blood,
A groovy facial scar;
On the canal rancid surface,
Blacker than a witches’ bowel,
It smiles back at itself,
Death reflected from afar.
Don’t look now, for
Something wicked comes,
Trailing rotten funeral wreaths,
Along the catacomb way;
And the bad moon surveys
The handiwork of conscience,
Turns the plastic red and slick,
Predicting venous spray.
Furry feline monarch, master
Of all that he surveys.
Fierce and superior, to all he meets
Cheddar stalks into the room,
Jumps up on the bed (that he lest you use)
And curls up at your feets.
He licks himself, and looks at you
In a manner that says “You should know,
I rule and command,
I’m the one who runs this show.”
Shhhhh, Hush now, don’t tell him
He’s not the king.
For if you do I fear…
There will be hissing and gnashing of teeth.
How vast is the mind
in all it surveys?
Humanity's blip can be
measured in days,
yet I hold hallowed
my meager plight
as I plummet blind
through this icy night.
With all prime focus
centered on me
as my reigning
identity
I quake confused
by all my eyes see.
Shall I be sequestered
in perpetuity?
My body buckles
with forces profound
since I find no hope
to orbit around
only more egos
that need to be stroked
waiting for my light
to get revoked.
So yu running down
The House
The Car
The Land
Monkey Money
No time for family and friends
just the monkey money
No time to reflect and enjoy some
Good home cooking
No time to analyze and realize
Monkey money is no substitute for
concerts missed OR graduations.
No sir, no amount of monkey money
Can ever make up for the permanent frown on a pretty face
When she surveys the crowded room and you are not there.
Monkey money
Monkey money
keep your monkey money.