Short Tanked Poems
Short Tanked Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Tanked by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Tanked by length and keyword.
A boy of 10 I only fished,
to bring one home for mother`s dish.
Became a man with drink and wished,
that getting tanked would catch me fish.
Her daughter did pour, and then more, of wine.
The goblet was tall and she filled it fine.
The glass sort of tipsy —
Well-tanked was the gypsy.
A cop cut her off when she crossed the line.
12/26/2018
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Too many Mai Tais, zany Matilda, drank!
Whoops, she hit the sea-wall and arrested for
being tanked!
A big flirt was she, and the Officer fell.
Now a huge wedding is planned, do tell!
12/2/2020
Inflation rages
Outdoing wages
Stock Market tanked
Stench from DC stank
Fed increases spending
High interest on homes, impending
The answer in November comes
Do not re-elect the same bums
9/29/2022
decidedly despicable dastardly diabolical Dan
doing dismal, dour, demeaning deeds to frantic Fran
Forever frenzied fickle Felicity found her man.
Morose monochromatic Mel molding Typan.
Trixie totally tanked telephoning Tim’s tan.
Smart smidgets sensed silliness by name of Nan.
Nefarious, neatnik Nan ended up with diabolical Dan.
Why are my searches drawing blank
I just searched for Constance La France
It simply tanked ' Is cancellation afoot?
Are there gremlins in 'the soup' its moot'
So many time in months of thrice
I've sought out my peers yet (no dice)
Michael Tor I can't find your door
Andrea Deitrich pangi Bill Baker and more
To top the lot my contest launched
I couldent find it? Friends so staunch.'
A truckful of drunks
half-skunked boozers
gun racks in the back
unlucky losers
pulled up to the pumps
for a gallon or two
only high octane
tanked would do
then one had a bad itch
he started to scratch
wanted a smoke
and when he lit a match
the explosion was heard
three miles away
to arrive alive
do what they say
'Don't drink and drive'
and yes it's true
it could ruin your day
smoking is bad for you
Grasp for the clutch,
(clutching on automatic
chances)
clench my jaw –
am I clutch?
no luck.
I gasp! (gassed)
the gas-tank tanked.
Tired I try,
but floppy tires
blunder
like a drove
of drunken thunderbirds.
“Gear up guy! Get some get-go!”
I exhaust, idle
and stammer,
grass spattered,
paint chips scattered,
brakes broke
and steering hammered -
destination
is going,
rear-view gone.
Turn my wheels (or my keys, at least).
Just don’t give me a brake.
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