Short Thirties Poems
Short Thirties Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Thirties by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Thirties by length and keyword.
Vargas pin up girls of the thirties
intrigued us, delighted us, incited us
then along came Barbie, reinforcing
that women are beautiful,
almost as delightful as the automobiles they sell
A dangerous little fellow in North Korea
Is making us nervous with his crazy ideas
Like another damn luny
Known for his cruelty
Back in the thirties with his weird panacea
Judy Garland and Toto were a magically duo
A ninety thirties magical tale Land of Oz thereunto
Was four-years-old
A magical tale retold
My sister took me, there were stars in my proscuitto
The very first image I recall in my youth
Was momma a-rockin' as her contentment oozed
In spite of the hardships
During the thirties starkness
She always sang quietly remaining aloof
The very first image I recall in my youth
Was momma a-rockin' as her contentment oozed
In spite of the hardships
During the thirties starkness
She always sang quietly remaining aloof
Somewhere out there are happy peeps like me
We're few and far between, upbringing's the key
Childhood in the thirties
Was down and dirty
But managed to come out with my hide full of glee!
Somewhere out there's someone happy as me
We're few and far between, upbringing's the key
Childhood in the thirties
Was down and dirty
But managed to come out with my hide filled with glee!
Today I will be as useless as the “g” in lasagna
Or even more than a “j” instead of a “w” in marijuana
Forgive my ignorance
I'm totally innocent
Growed up in the thirties when folks danced the samba
a shameless bluffer
he won at poker and twenty-one
an audacious risk-taker
brazen, brave, and bold
daring to do what most would not
my grandfather-in-law, the gambler
who lost his house to a bad hand of cards in the thirties
Beautiful woman
Twenties or thirties
Schooling or career
Lovers and boyfriends
Best times of her life
Getting older
Gotten smarter
Beauty within
Stability
Golden years
Grandchildren
Gratitude
Tranquil
Wisdom
Time
Rebecca of Sunnybrook farm was a book and a movie in the thirties
Way back in the day, actually past my day, into my mother’s day.
If you do not know who Shirley Temple is, please look her up.
She played Rebecca, and she was the epitome of a sunshine girl.
A father in his thirties
Snapped pictures
Of his tween daughter
“Shake your hair out”
And she swung it
This way and that
“Beautiful”, he said
And she beamed
Flashing orthodontia
Third in a series written 4/25/09 in the Brooklyn Botanic Garden
ALLITERATIVE CINQUAIN Aug 24
could crabbedness credibly crumpled caring centre?
forcibly fluttering faultily from faintness
manorial monsignor modified my misdirection mockery
sapient sandboy serious statice smuggler
teenaged tassel through to their thirties
Do you think God is the greatest serial killer
as everything dies
Could never murder my wife
She would kill me
If Jack The Ripper was in his thirties
what had he been doing for all the years before
Man became a monster
and life lost light
and the night became the dark
Kitchen drama
We were poor
Shared our kitchen with the woman next door
She was in her thirties
I was fifteen.
We met in the kitchen
It started with a kiss
It ended with full sex.
Mother found out
Called our neighbour a whore gave her a slap
Across her face.
To me, she said.
How could you with that woman!
My Dear Son...
--------------------------
Will you remember this,
Your first day at school
In the principal's office?
You shrank into my arms in fear;
Your rosy cheeks fiery hot, and dark red as ripened plum.
When I am retired and old,
And you are in your thirties-- too busy with your flourishing business!
The soil sailed by the North Sea wind into road traffic all,
as oldies remember their parents, grand parents talk of
being transferred to England's little Dust Belt of the Thirties;
while the fast foreign labour surprised by the gentle English
weather getting annoyed with one and all, its just like home after all.
my daddy loved corn meal mush
mommy didn’t, she had eaten too much of it
during the depression of the thirties
I watched him cook it
because I loved daddy
he gave me a taste
with butter and maple syrup
now I loved corn meal mush too
I can hardly ever find it
but I will never forget the sweet gritty taste
and how much my love for it tickled my daddy
One day I opened my eyes,
The happiest day for my family but then also I cried.
Childhood full of memories and joy,
Teenage stressful yet I enjoy,
Being mature in my twenties,
While taking up responsibilities in my thirties,
Managing my family in my forties,
While resting in my fifties
And knowing the truth of life in my sixties.
With this,
One day I closed my eyes,
The happiest day for me but then also everyone cried.
I never thought I would ever want to die
Especially since I was a young mother
In my thirties when I thought I was going to
I was about to have a car wreck, and knew I was a goner
I yelled out “Thank you for a great life,” and bam….
I thought I would look down and see my body
Instead, I had a feeling of disbelief and regret
Regret that I did not die?
I think so.
I guess whatever is after this life is a heck of a lot better.
From Kindergarten through eighth grade
seems longer than Eternity
High School turns the corner in a couple years
the last two zoom by, like a frightened deer
College is a grind; you really have to think...
looking back you see -- it vanished in a wink
Your twenties and thirties may ebb and flow
it matters what you do and where you go...
They told me, 'Life begins at forty, sir'
~ Now I'm eighty; 'twas all a blur
LIMERIA LINEALLY LOCATIVE INSPIRATION
I imitate insensitively into an interplanetary, interval
as
manorial misdirection modified me
not
my monsignor narcissus natal nonvisual neophobi mockery
but
polariscope proficiency protracted our prolonged pseudowintera plumping
for
serious sapient stillness stockholding
those
unalterable teenaged thirties transitively through to
a venturesome vagueness 'would be wedding'
with willamette we vowelise
Are those thoughts you put in
what I once valued more
Or would what I put out
be the end winning score
Did I need your ears
for my voice to become whole
Or would I rather them deafened
words deep in my soul
In my twenties your opinion
carried some weight
In my thirties I listened
but asked you to wait
In my forties I turned
and walked slowly away
Now alone in the twilight
—to carry the day
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
Are those thoughts you put in
what I once valued more
Or would what I put out
be the end winning score
Did I need your ears
for my voice to become whole
Or would I rather them deafened
words deep in my soul
In my twenties your opinion
carried some weight
In my thirties I listened
but asked you to wait
In my forties I turned
and walked slowly away
Now alone in the twilight
—to carry the day
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
She is grayscale my students said.
They are used to people being in living color.
She is vintage, I explained. We were all grayscale back then.
In the covered wagon days?
No. In the thirties, forties, fifties and part of the sixties.
You are kidding!
Sh!
I was watching the young beauty.
Her dance moves flowed like molted lava
Her harem pants were chic and fashionable.
She was graceful like a flamingo.
Why is she gray? Stewart asked.
Stewart never listens in class.