Short Trench Poems

Short Trench Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Trench by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Trench by length and keyword.


Et

Their was once a boy by the name of et 
He had an encyclopedia bt
 He sat on a fence 
Fall in a trench 
And cry for his tt
Form: Limerick


Premium Member Trench Warfare

On
the 
margins-
negative
spaces in the floor.

Ekphrasis after Shobboleth by Doris Salcedo (happing installation at Tate 
Modern)
art
Form: Fibonacci

War Diamante

Pride
brave, patriotic
fighting, striving, protecting
gunfire, khaki, trench, bones
crying, screaming, crawling
painful, cruel
fear.
war
Form: Diamante

Premium Member Mariana's Trench

Mariana's Trench
what a shock to find beauty
where none can see it

------

12th February, 2016
Contest ~ Haiku 102
Sponsor ~ Nathan D
Form: Haiku

Notitle:0006

Does every indulgence begin
and end in sex?
How far away is every
trench-coated slam poet 
from spewing illicit
half-kids onto 
the front row?


Premium Member My dog the Excavator

I am renting my dog out as an excavator
He can dig a trench next to that elevator
He will scoop out the clay faster than fast
This will be his sixth job, none of them last
dog
Form: Rhyme

Holocaust

Soundless cries in vain
Eyes wide open in anguish
Stunned in unbelief

No birds' songs at the trench
After the shots only silence


For Abe Lopez' "Leather Voices" contest
Form: Tanka

Grey Days

Scorching sun and 
burning ground
No more blossom rose 
around
No drop from the sky
No thunder other than 
sounds-
Patch of sands like desert
island
No trench for the spy.

Premium Member Romney

Willard Mitt Romney
born into wealth and money
Can't conceive of life as the Beaver
and pushes  temps as high as trench fever


"Clerihew" form for Andrea's "Seeking a Fresh Crop of Clerihews"
© Tom Larrow  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Clerihew

Megalodon

In the Mariana trench 
Surrounded by holothurians 
Jellyfish and white octopuses 
We plumb the Challenger deep 
In search of Megalodon. 


                 W.A CHOLT. Copyright Fergal O Reilly. 2018.

                  2/11/18
© W.A. Cholt  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Tanka

Daneyboy

old timbre

daney boy

irish

to

the

bone

daney boy

east side

gypsy

calls

to

me

digging

up

trench

singing

van

tied

oh

don't

you

go

out

in

it

moans

fog

or

rain

Easy

I remembered being on a bus with my dad today
Passing an old decrepit man out jogging and I began to giggle
To which my father retorted laugh away 
At least he is competing whereas you are merely commentating
Glued to the bench last out the trench

Premium Member If Every Day

If every day
you set about
to dig a little trench,

and though the end
is far away,
you carve another inch,

and all the while,
enjoy the craft,
admire the progress made,

that length of trench
will melt away:
persistent toil, well paid.
© Jeff Kyser  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Triolet:Fix Bayonets

Fix bayonets to fight the foe,
Over the 'top' to sound of shell.
Village men of Fingeringhoe
Fix bayonets to fight the foe.
Fighting for King and country lo!
Trench warfare sure is swell
Fix bayonets to fight the foe
Over the 'top' to sound of shell.
Form: Triolet

Premium Member Military Life

MILITARY LIFE

Sergeants
They rants!

Slit trench
Big stench!

Don't sass
The brass!

Long march
Sore arch!

Payday
Yea! Yea!

Discharge
Bye, Sarge!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired

Entry for Timothy Hicks' "March Of The Footle" Contest
Form: Footle

Premium Member What's For Breakfast

The height of Mount Everest but a meter
The depth of Mariana Trench just a foot
The distance between the North and South Poles only an inch
The waters of the oceans merely a thimble 
Neither could measure
Nor could quench
This love I have inside
A fire I must hide

Present Is-

A gentle kiss,
       What present is.
A cute n bold Miss,
       What life really is
So go and kill that tension trench 
And give this girl a lifelong French

                                               -ankit dedha

{[email protected]}
[ANKIT_DEDHA@instagram]

Weary Soldiers Wept

eleventh month of nineteen eighteen,
eleventh day and hour striking,
weary soldiers wept, relieved,
as armistice took root
and guns gone silent
raised a stillness
well-heard by
trench and
grave


November 10, 2022
A November Nonet Poetry Contest,
Andrea Dietrich, sponsor
© David Bose  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Nonet

Premium Member Fable



Fable 


Bloody Bond
Feeble pledge
Far sighting the bogus Lustre 
Drenched in thoughts
Wrenching out words
With ideas in the trench
He was a wreck
Dredging in the mud
Wearing his other face
Facing his tomorrow
Fencing his fears
Benching all odds  
In a world of doubt
Form: Narrative

Your War

Bloodied and battleworn
I called for a steed that could run
Instead of a horse
You brought me a gun

A comrade in the trench
Not an invitation to a ball
I've run out of ammo
But it is'nt my war
You angered the enemy
He thinks it was me
You gave without asking
Now the problem is yours

The Deep

The Challenger Deep.
The deepest point in the ocean.
What bizarre creatures live in the murk
Of this part of the Mariana Trench.

Creatures that never sleep
In the sea's endless motion.
In ancient hollows they lurk
Deep in the Mariana Trench.



*Inspired by a wikipedia random article*
sea
Form: Rhyme

Tanned

The moon bites the dust 
It rolls back
Back into the heath
Before the shame catches waves
The little girl slips into her trench coat 
To catch her date
It's clear in the skies
As the magical sun slips through 
Beauty engulfs the world
She has just stepped...
into the garden of the falcons 
Tall and proud.

The Other Wright Brother

i found a woman
sitting alone on
a bench

i opened my
trench coat
at 

first slowly 
exposing
myself 

and seeing
she had 
no

intent on
leaving
i

started rapidly
opening and
closing

my down
lined coat
until it

became my
wings
and

took me to
flight
as a

pale
white
butterfly
Form:

Her Third Eye

My breath sharp
erratic
inhales are deep as a trench
others shatter down my throat
fractured
into broken gasps of air.
My eyes are drawn to her
like a magnet to a beam of steel
as much as I try to pull away
my gaze always slides back.
My lips are dry
imagining the sensation
of her lips
melting into mine.

The Birial of Stinky

We buried the fat hamster by moonlight.
A shoebox lowered into a shallow trench.

"He won't be coming back
will he Dad?”
This said with eyes and fists tightly shut.

"One day, when you are an old man.
I'll bring him back in my coat pocket;
next time though
no more chocolate for stinky”

Long thoughtful pause:
Okay.

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