Short Thirty Four Poems
Short Thirty Four Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Thirty Four by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Thirty Four by length and keyword.
Pity you never saw me
unable to take my eyes off of you,
We were one hell of a love poem;
You don’t deserve my words.
working in the cold
has no effect on body
when it's thirty four
*Working in a warehouse that's 34° every day 365 days a year.
Marie McCaid was a hotel maid.
She tidied rooms where guests had laid.
On opening Room thirty-four
the odor sent her to the floor.
One guest had clearly overstayed.
Her beauty shines as when we wed,
Now thirty-four short years ago,
Each morn in which, snug in our bed,
Her beauty shines as when we wed,
When two souls melded, forged ahead,
And proved to me, in love’s soft glow,
Her beauty shines as when we wed,
Now thirty-four short years ago.
let's use the loo she said
as if it does not have Covid all over the seat
As if there is not feces on the floor
as if it is okay
Give me a diaper I told my grandmother
She stared at me for a long time.
You are thirty-four she said
That's right I replied
Old enough to know better than to use a public restroom
When we sat down at the table
I didn’t have a hunch
It would be thirty-four dollars
To have a bite of lunch
My wife had eggs and bacon,
And I had chips with pork
For thirty-four dollars
I should have snagged a fork
I guess I’m getting old
Inflation’s getting real
I guess I really miss my
Seven dollar meals
What you love destroys you,
that is the old cliché,
It’s so because the truth in it
is so obvious and plain.
Every morning I must break
rust off my joints with pain,
thirty-four years of skiing
has left me this price to pay.
What you love destroys you,
that’s what the people say,
and yet I still get on up
and go do it anyway.
Didn't purchase new wheels 'til age thirty-four
Down payment all of $1,500 bucks, no more
My son, ten years younger, just purchased his
Kid put down almost ten times more...
Times sure aren't what they used to be
New cars cost more than a house in Old Guinea
Bought my very first beater for 50 bucks in '72
Helped me keep the trunk loaded up with brew
Let me say I’m not much of a cook,
Even my husband could tell you it’s true,
For thirty-four years he shouldered that task~
Then left!
Oh, I grill the cheese sandwich quite well,
Very crisp on each side filled with Colby and ham,
Even so I prefer leftovers from Mother’s abode~
Roast beef and mash reheats
Super nice!
An only child, actress, singer, nightclub entertainer
Jayne Mansfield.
Her movie Too Hot to Handle made sense to the people who knew her.
A tomato, lightning, a bonfire, married and divorce numerous times.
She loved her five children and kept her Playboy playmate figure.
Dying in a car crash in New Orleans at the young age of thirty-four.
She lived as if she knew she was running out of time.
Pink squid woman hopped out of her ship.
She swam the ocean, then headed toward shore.
Albino woman asked, “how was your trip?”
They counted their seashells; there were thirty-four.
Pink squid woman thanked Albino woman for the good time.
Her friend gave her a hug and seashells numbering nine.
Hope to see you again in the next century, she said.
But alas, by then both of these creatures were dead.
They aren’t me.
One living in my basement;
thirty-two years old, working odd jobs,
the other thirty-four in his childhood room
satisfied with scraps I throw his way,
and a fifty-inch flat screen for company.
The girls both working on second and third marriages
Children of the children of the sixties,
just didn’t stand a chance.
Dweezil, River, Moonbeam and Love.
If I could do it over again, 'I wouldn’t'!
My town now under the lockdown
At this thirty four years I'm alone
Loneliness gifting me still indomitable boon
That's the powerful spirit of inside self clone
I cannot go outside for the outbreak pandemic
Songs of Shaiji leads me to the insightful epic
The maturity of self on my solitude Ektara I seek
I can go inside to break my egoistic wall link
Over all lockdown outside
Now it's best time to go inside
27.03.2020 Chattogram
once upon a time
you saw a beautiful princess
you were longing to be mine
and your love you did confess
we walked down the aisle
dreaming of happy ever after
each with an expectant smile
of less tears and more laughter
but now I'm thirty-four
a lovely maiden no longer
and you don't love me anymore
though my love's grown stronger
now when you look at me
an ugly old hag
is what you see
and life is but a drag
Thirty-four people killed in a week.
The Cape Flats gangs are not weak.
They shoot to kill and maim,
to them, it’s all the same.
Let’s be real,
the gangs are a bad deal.
In them, there is no good.
To them, death is like food.
You must fight to live, every day.
Being bad is the only way.
They rule the street
and the innocent must take the heat.
Seven days a week
they feed on the weak.
The gangs have no love to give.
They don’t forget or forgive.
My age is getting up there
middle age is knocking on my door
They say I shouldn't worry...
I'm only thirty four.
I'm noticing the wrinkles.
I sense that double chin
is creeping right up on me.
Fight gravity?? I can't win!
I use to feel so youthful.
I thought I'd never age.
Back then I planted flowers.
Today I'm growing sage.
Sometimes I forget my own age.
It's not that I contrive.
Like when I wrote my bio here
I SAID I'M THIRTY FIVE!!
Is that a sign of old-age?
Someone has tinkered with the 100 Community List
And it appears that you are still at number thirty-four,
Down a few notches, I have not booed or hissed
‘Cos I’ve been much lower on lots of lists before!
In fact, it’s delightful not to have the pressure, you see,
Let others get “put down” for their success for a while,
For I get no thrill from checking where on the list I’ll be,
But seeing you haven’t come up a notch makes me smile.
Written October 28, 2022