Short Tousled Poems
Short Tousled Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Tousled by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Tousled by length and keyword.
A wisp of wind tousled curls
Cloaks the eyes of Madonna
Watch as her beauty unfurls
A brief glimpse of Nirvana
Nature reckons
Sleep beckons
Thoughts swayeth
Visions stayeth
Have Faith
God Sayeth
~
Saints Prayeth
Gently tousled leaves
Vivid the emerald fronds
Soon will turn to gold
*Placed 7th in Matt Caliri's contest, "Write Now!" (Approximately 50 seconds)
PM Boris Johnson wrestles with bad hair days, but he doesn't seem to care!
Would some kind soul lend the bloke a comb and brush to tame his tousled hair!
the little fellow
with tousled hair
picked up the fallen leaf
and smiled
as if he knew
its secrets
satisfied
he moved on
Wave your magic wand o'er my droopy eyes
Lay my tousled head upon your tender arm
Sing a soothing, soft, nighttime lullaby
Lift me gently heavenward, away from all harm
Listen to poem:
A splotch of orange
spills over East,
mixes with and washes away
night dark and moon yellow.
Golden quiet transmutes
to silver sound, and tousled sleep
awakes to fresh-combed day.
Herr Vilfred consults
his mirror.
Gawks long at himself
in horror.
His limp receding,
graying hair,
no longer that of a
debonair.
Gone's the tousled look
of long ago
that used to enthrall
women so.
Fears grip tender hearts
still do motivate them too
Trust stays panic's flight
daylight's promise dispels night
Tousled hair's nervous
fingers roam so deep, so wide
Keep demons at bay
glide past cerebrum's swift tide...
To the clouds-
a tousled crown of green,
a bump in the fabric of land.
To the deer-
a hall of silent pillars,
woven shadows,
mighty temples.
To the rain-
a fleeting flash of green and brown
then hush-
splattering on fallen needles.
a scapigiliata
lady
with disshevelled
hair
natural
uncombed
tousled
eyes
half-closed
mouth
slightly shaped
in
an ambiguous
smile
lingers
for while
indelible
her eternal
gaze
imprints
memory
forever
Hakuna metata
In the fields
of broiling air
plump lambs gambol.
The daytime star
smiles and whirs;
a lone tortoise toils
in plodding rhythm.
His docile baritone sings
the timeless chorus
“Hakuna metata!”
to fretting lions
who grapple tousled
and tangled.
Now I lay me down to sleep
I dread the thought of what might creep.
Garish goblins slither into my dreams
However hard I grip the seams of
Tousled duvet above my head.
Monsters messing with my mind.
Arresting sleep of any kind.
Rarely do they let me rest.
Every night they try their best.
Soothing slumber seldom seen.
Am I a person or just the keys?
Nothing more than convenience
is what it seems to be;
My patience vanishes with disrespect;
Order over the counter pills. Settle down!
Seems like less than subtle noxious
irritating because I still smell it;
Tousled words to try and hide the meaning
you didn’t straighten out so I split.
A chill stiff fresh breeze
tousled my hair as it swung
around my eyes blinding me
Walking on the beach
sand squishing between my toes
I wondered at Nature's might!
Date: 30/10/2020
Submitted for: SPIN A SEDOKA Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nette Onclaud
Second Place
yesterday I walked home in the rain
and forgot
for thirty minutes
that I was grown up
and in heels, business dressed
and straightened hair,
and remembered
something free
locked into the
sky like moonstone
murky and luminous
a tousled beauty buried
in routines and duties
no umbrella, thirty minutes
a woman in transit
without belonging
tax free.
Clouds are weeping at my door
Puddles tearfully trickle in
Moonlight falls, whisper thin
Shingles chatter on the roof
Winter sends her lonely kiss
Restless winds, a soulful hiss
Tousled twigs caress the windows
Shattered leaves sorrow down
Willows writhe, orchids frown
Shutters sigh outside these walls
Thunder moans in evening gloom
Wilted love, she cannot bloom
A wee lad, tresses from a day's play tousled
Squinted up at a cavernous sky to find
Where the moon and stars were twinkling tonight
Mapping out bears and lions in his pint-size mind
Time's passed, he now employs a telescope
His stellar scientific maps delivering hope
Of discoveries to change the way grown men think
~ Yet to a wee lad's curiosity will they be linked
man I dig that
ambient "hourglass"
that fresh butter bean
lipstick
your tousled feathery
yarn dirty brown hair
I dig you;
gotta run
make love to you
latter
under the sun
drenched each
gotta run
fresh strawberries and cream
on the veranda
how does that sound?
at the end of our day
gotta run
at the next of
our meeting
i'm all yours
we are ours
and i'll stay
I COULD ALMOST SEE YOU
DANCING AMID THE BRIGHT,
YELLOW DANDELIONS ON THAT
WARM SPRING DAY. FEET BARE,
TOUSLED HAIR, AND A DIRTY
LITTLE SMILING FACE LOOKING
UP AT ME. I WOULD HAVE
HELD YOU SO TIGHT AND NEVER
LET YOU GO-IF ONLY I COULD
HAVE.
I THINK OF YOU OFTEN-STILL.
BUT, YOU NEVER GET ANY OLDER.
YOU'LL FOREVER BE THAT
BEAUTIFUL BABY, RUNNING
CAREFREE AMID THE FLOWERS
OF JUNE.
No Rush
Hair brush through my hair, no rush.
The wrinkles will not slow, but time
slows on the satiny pillow, in throes.
The bed softly creaks as our eyes speak.
They do not stare as the fire sparks.
Familiar lips brush tender flesh, kindling
the oneness, the forever afterness.
The rush of internal flames combust
followed by serenity of tousled hair.
No rush to run bristles through my locks.
Watching the window
Watching carefully
Waiting for those feet
Familiar feet
Pattering near door
Standing wistfully
Waiting for those jeans
Familiar jeans
Hands stuck in pockets
Keys jangling inside
Waiting for that shirt
Familiar shirt
Rain soaked on shoulders
Fancy patterned front
Waiting for that hair
Familiar hair
Tousled and unkempt
Moving in closer
Waiting for my dear
To give me a kiss
12/7/15
Sir Vilfred consults the mirror
gawks long at himself in horror
his limp, receding, graying hair
no longer that of a debonair
the tousled look of long ago
that used to enthrall women so
now only makes him look so old
at best, so tired, losing his hold
he looks away hurt, disgusted
just can't believe he's this wasted
he's still a stallion thoroughbred
he tries to convince Sir Vilfred
To Israel Kamakawiwo, IZ
Tell him the sea has receded and the stars are jumping on its bare bed.
Tell him that history was a seagull hungering our names.
Tell him, if he is silent, if he isolates himself, God appeased the volcano,
created for us this island.
Tell him that I wait for him under the almond tree, barefoot and still tousled,
with shimmering hoops. Hawaii, Izzy surfing clouds, playing ukulele.
the wind blows, caressing my skin,
my hair is tousled, i make no attempt to fix it.
breathe, once and then twice.
the waves crash against the shore,
my heart fills with a strange sense of peace.
breathe, once and then twice.
my feet sink into the warm sand,
the air is salty and profound.
its hard to breathe
but i try,
once, and then twice.