Short The Skinny Poems
Short The Skinny Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about The Skinny by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about The Skinny by length and keyword.
We raise our glasses while waving the black flag
to friends sailing through the mid-century drag.
When embracing Kathy and Ginny
we will concede to know the skinny
since passions rise steady while body parts sag.
There is a story
Told of old
Of Jack and Jenny
Wild and bold.
Jack was first
To play the fool.
He ran off
and made a mule.
When jealous Jenny
Heard the skinny
She ran off
And made a hinny.
Or so the story goes.
The door rings,
I look up,
someone with someone else,
back to my eggs and hash browns.
The door rings
Spatulas knell the griddle.
The skinny cook yells in Kentucky Yiddish.
Flapjacks slap in midair,
syrup dongs in jug and jar.
I know I should not care
About the skinny ribs of a pear
But when you are eating one
And your tooth gets hurt, it is no fun.
I thought they did not have bones I said.
Who told you that? Asked my neighbor Red.
I had some before, and there was nothing hard inside.
Maybe they took the ribs out, suggested Mr. McBride.
Daphne, I love you
in your purple dress
You're my favourite of the gang
to that I must confess
Your blonde friend just makes traps
and the brainy one is nerdy
The canine and the skinny one
eat huge burgers quite insanely
Your role is kind of quirky
but you're prettier than the others
I don't know who to thank for that
perhaps the animators
Took a glance above the skinny blank-pane
Gladly could tell when it 'l indeed not rain
The moon humps with the sun, a pain.
Wild wind rants, while the carriers pant
Not minding displays on a rare podcast
And the utterances from a mere forecast
Blessed be the God's eye
Angrier the world looks- aye
The moon has come before îts time
Waiting for ice cream
And looking around,
All versions of people
Are there to be found:
The old and the toddlers,
The skinny and fat,
The bald and the bearded,
The full-bodied tat;
The neat and the slobby ,
The antsy and calm,
Each there for the ice cream,
A sticky day balm.
I doubt we’d be sharing
Political views,
But united deciding
Which flavor to choose.
MISOGYNY
HE SAID
I AM YOUR BOSS, YOU FOLLOW ME.
little me said, I thought GOD was the boss.
HE SAID I WILL HIT YOU WHEN I THINK YOU DESERVE IT, EVEN IN FRONT OF YOUR CHILDREN! I AM THE ROOF OVER YOUR HEAD!!
little me knew that if we said “no,” HE had the capability of crushing them all, like Esther.
so, then, the skinny white girl
with nowhere else to go
said
okay
Zeina, Zeina, Kasawat...
Where, oh, where have you gone?
All I know is where you ain't...
And that's on Soup of late..
Are you out with Xena,
Princess warrior,
And her pal,?
The blonde one,
The skinny gal??
Zeina, Zeina,
Come back home....
Too long you're gone away,
Too long you roam....
Zeina, Zeina....
Study hard....
I fully expect you
To be the next great Bard.
something strange to earth was sent
dropped some art then simply went
now lonely spiders left on mars
watch red shoes dance on dusty stars
and walls of televisions sing
sweet things about the rebel king
the lad insane, the skinny duke
androgynous inspired fluke
flight of peacock, coloured flash
funkin’ funky ash to ash
china diamond, cold as god
genuinely, truly odd
by gail
Why is twelve not secondteen?
Secondteen, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.
And shouldn’t thirteen by thirdteen?
Of course it should!
And why have teachers always called the long hand the big hand
When the short FAT hand is the big hand?
I never got that straight.
Still don’t get it.
The long hand was the skinny hand, you idiots!
Do you understand at all yet
why I hate math?
4- 4 minutes have passed.
2- 2 seconds have gone by.
S- Second hand on the clock still stays.
E- Every number stays too.
C- Continuously, the skinny hand rotates clockwise.
O- On the first hand, it points to a specific number.
N- Next, time still passes as the number is being pointed at.
D- Do not underestimate the keeper.
S- Since it watches, you may someday feel that time goes away fast.
Return to the desk the teacher and classmate
The bell rings hurry you don't want to be late
Mother pushing for your learning bright hungry belly
Father is absent not a penny milking the skinny cow shelly
Grandfather swells on self not caring who die or live
Deeming it sacrilege to dip in his pocket and a penny give
Grandmother tries to hold it all together knowing the need
Giving of her means caring the bright hungry belly to feed
Between you and me
Longer is the stream of agony
I am out of breath
You may know
Yet, my mute feelings,
Ages ago,
Are surprised
Waking up
I shake my thoughts
The words are displaced between my wings
I see you revolt,
I take off the robe
Pulling my crooked legs together
I cover the skinny body
Declaring rebellion while erect
And my chest for storms is content.
Poem by/ Dr. Hassan Mohammed Al-Emrany
Egypt - Minya - Bani Omran
An empty barn was the home of a dog;
outside buzzing bees attacked a tiny cat...
joyful was the song of a parched bird.
An hour ago, happy was the warbling bird;
no rascals bothered the skinny, smelly cat...
they didn't get close to the hungry dog.
Rain came and it worried the shivering cat;
spring showers were the joy of the bird...
he could have been the prey of the dog.
Sunshine returned: the dog barked, the cat ran and the bird fled.
"How do you ease yourself?"
An older man once asked me
in a hotel lobby.
A strange thing to ask a teenager.
Later, on the Thames,
Douglas (a celebrated artistic failure),
drunk-kissed me on the lips.
He was sweeter
than the girl, I came aboard with.
The skinny lodger upstairs
dropped his pants in front of me.
He was just lonely.
"How do you ease yourself?"
Asks the cold wind of autumn.
I walk, I write,
I whistle like a kettle sometimes.
I heard about a study
Which had proof that where it’s at,
In terms of living longest,
Is to be just slightly fat.
When one weighs sixty pounds too much,
That person is obese.
The chances of a lengthy life
Have started to decrease.
But someone who is overweight
By up to thirty pounds
May outlive all the skinny folk,
As crazy as it sounds.
There’s cause for celebration
For the chubby and the plump;
And dieters may pack it in,
For science holds the trump!
strewn thoughts
The skinny dog
snoozes on the graveyard's lawn
at ease with the stillness of the night
The fruit of the carob tree
looks like a cotton pickers hand
on an autumnal beach
a bottle of suntan oil
tells how the summer was
A lone streetlamp sways
a drunk staggers home
he used to be an actor, stops and sing
A seagull fancied to be human
used lotion and combed feathers shiny
Alas, it was hacked to death
by those that resist any change
They had a hasty meal of bones
Lest the dogs should hear them
They buried their heads to explore
Dried rutabagas and stale scones.
It was their world ravaged by bulls
Cats, crows, goats and ghosts
In the skinny island they roamed
In search of prehistoric tools.
Have you heard an eldritch screech
In the sunset hour on some Goan beach?
They are bone-pickers of a squalid slum
Running like a crazy in the city bedlam.
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen
Theme: Garbage
Mick Bowie Mellonhead whatza whozits,
you know his name.
The guy!
The one with the skinny legs;
enlarged pores.
C'mon, you know him,
the guy from gym class,
crying in the corner.
Remember?
His mother's sins.
You know of whom I speak.
God called upon him to manifest
his exterior...
to scream,
to howl.
Rage on ,that crazy feeling.
A psycho sexual Prom night
for all to behold.
Mystify.
For cryin' out loud in the Gym,
no redemption.
Those three must not eat at all, we corpulent cats said.
It was class reunion time, and our backsides were spread.
They are still stuck up observed my friend Toddie Tedd.
I bet they don’t eat sugar, salt, chips, spaghetti or bread.
They dress too fancy too, they think they are all that.
This came from a really Rubenesque gal, I think her name was Pat.
We stared at the skinnies, wishing they would be a little more fat.
Angry at their lanky svelte ways, I acted a bit like a brat.