Short Thrusted Poems
Short Thrusted Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Thrusted by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Thrusted by length and keyword.
"Make it so creamy!"
I had screamed super loudly
As he had creampied me.
He had thrusted so deeply,
As it spread down my tushy.
I’m flailing,
Drowning in this pit of my own design
You don’t know,
They don’t know,
And quite frankly, I don’t know
Why this came to be.
Each time I near the surface,
I am thrusted further down
I can’t see,
I can’t breathe,
I’m blind to everything but me
Wielded
like a
loaded gun
His phone
was thrusted
forth
Proof
of what
I knew
was false
Refusing
all
discourse
Armed
with but
an empty
tweet
Chosen
by a
bot
His mind
was trapped
inside a myth
Whose fiction
dearly
— bought
(Rosemont College: April, 2025)
To carry life’s
complex messages
The structure
must be simple
Like angle iron
at ninety degrees
the weight to never
buckle
A thrusted spear
a hammer punch
direction
short and measured
Effects most dire
with arrows fired
from bows
— most straight delivered
(Chief Joseph Highway: August, 2025)
Thrusted so unexpectedly into
this whirlwind of vehemence.
Insanely unhealthy,
the inclination - hesitation. They
cannot resist coinciding consumption.
A nervous admission to
an untterly untrained grade of ardor.
Soradic reaching and receding,
when nothing is static
save my constant fleeting feeling.
My bitterly antagonistic,
dramatic manner of dealing.
Thrusted so unexpectedly into
this whirlwind of vehemence.
Insanely unhealthy,
the inclination - hesitation. They
cannot resist coinciding consumption.
A nervous admission to
an untterly untrained grade of ardor.
Sporadic reaching and receding,
when nothing is static
save my constant fleeting feeling.
My bitterly antagonistic,
dramatic manner of dealing.
what is it to end to cease the existence of another being or ones own self does pain expel? or is it a sudden forever lasting silence all that awaits violently peacefully disappearing from ones thought of reality to be thrusted into what no one knows of or is able to explain something more than the worlds population has experienced while no one knows how it feels what is it truly to die
this blessed moment
oh lord what is glory
sweet glory
if nothing but a name thrusted
upon her broad shoulders
and let the glory banner
yet wave her banner majestically
and that we drape her red cape
around our quivering hearts
thus to query for
fame fortune and favor
what more to ask of her
i am sure and still are
if this be sweet glory still
if glory is nothing but a name
.
Their thug chained
mine
whilst
through storm's
wet
i
coughed
'twuz the sunny
the dirt wuz
black
and hot
their thug thrusted
mine in the ground hut
with the naked
jane's
little cousin
i meant
her cousin
yes i did
THE YEAR WAS 2001 THE SECOND DAY OF NOVEMBER
MY ANGEL EMERGED WHAT A DAY 2 REMEMBER
9-LBS 6-OZ A TOTAL PACKAGE OF LOVE
ALL THANKS & APPRECIATION MUSTERED WAS SENT 2 THE MAN ABOVE
NEVER KNEW A LOVE LIKE THIS.
COULD EVER EXIST.
A LIFE OF COMMITMENT WAS SEALED WITH A KISS.
EVERY DEMON & EVIL SPIRIT HE THRUSTED FROM ME.
CLEANSED MY HEART & MY SOUL THEN TRUSTED IN ME.
2 LOVE HIM & STEER HIM FROM DANGER SO THAT'S WHAT IVE DONE.
SEE MY ANGEL IS UNIQUE MY ANGEL'S MY SON...
Pondering in sloth riddled exile, Stained by resolute pixel batter
Mutilated by idea’s negligent dirty mudded and infested bath-water
Sharing the extreme imagination contrast reality.
Panic thrusted full pelt entrusted.
Money feeds such little it cares
Freelance breed suffering servant indeed.
The ubiquitous sleeve hidden and deceived
Laughing smiles teeth that gleam
Sweaty handshakes left unfilled and malice built
A practitioner of harmful concept
A leveller of nature’s milk.
It's Easter let me praise his name first,
For he was burried in a tomb of stone and dust,
But on the third day He came to life atlast,
The angel rolled the stone; it didn't burst.
He was the only son of God,
He rode on a colt not a pod,
A spear was thrusted on His bod,
And His body was beset on shame by a horde.
He was crucified for our sins,
That's why we must praise Him with every means,
Preaching His Gospel from Cairo to Orleans,
Because it is on His scars our faith leans.
Crying
Crying, crying, crying broken hearts of a wounded soul,
maybe they're stories will be told, feeling lost and forgotten
betrayed and falsely accused, still some how broke the
chains of oppression and have been lifted upon the seas of freedom and heavy burdens we don't have too carry no
more, and the memories of hatred will be thrusted from
your mind and forgiving will be always and sadness will
dwell no more in the hearts of man and shall live in
harmony forever and ever.