Short Turnover Poems
Short Turnover Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Turnover by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Turnover by length and keyword.
My turnover, leafy cheek saw and salvaged
From Autumn's remains— this Winter's surgery,
White stitchery for washed-out color; dead cells...
...nip bright for scars on
Opportunities come and leave on a skate
Falling down doesn't mean it's all because of fate
Failure are supposed to teach you about errors not hate
Getting up is all about never giving at any rate
Things can turnover in any date
Opportunities come and leave on a skate
APPLE TURNOVER
What the world waits for
A miracle new Eden
A great revival
An influx of innocence
Like a great enchanting wave
Like starting over
Adam and eve the tree snake
Virgin nakedness
Dark clouds give way to blue sky
And they happily remain
…………………………………………….
I just finished Dean Koontz’s “Breathless.”
I want to change.
To be a good person.
To trust in God.
Start doing the right.
And get baptized.
Then I'll be blessed.
In wealth and wisdom.
My reputation will go far.
Will start raising the vulnerable.
People will respect me.
God will bless me more.
When my day will come.
I'll die peacefully.
And go to heaven.
@Kipngeno Robin.
Tha Formidable Cheru
Laying quietly in the dark
Alone in bed on my right side
Listening to the tinnitus
In my ear, praying sleep will come;
Not that I have obligations
To meet in the early morning;
I am an old retired dude
With a lot of time on my hands
But damn it to hell, I need sleep.
I try composing poetry
But my wandering tired mind
Can not remain focused for long
So I turnover my left side
And begin all over again.
Apple crisp or apple crumble
They are both desserts
That will make me stumble
Apple turnover or apple pie
They are both foods
That make me feel high
Apple cider or apple juice
They are both drinks
That make me feel loose
Candied apples or apples in caramel
Both are served on sticks
Of which nothing is comparable
You see I like fruits
And how they are served
If you pick all the roots
You’ll get what’s deserved
Digital Era technology
Computer Age machinery
Lost and found
In the Information Age frown
Taking place, face to face
The desire to do, whatever, in grace
Necessary to get the praise
For speed and space
Of knowledge turnover
Required for super minded processor
Gathered and decided
To influence their devices
On computer reality communication
By transmitting information
Into a discrete numeric routine
Merry go round machine
All powers are wrapped in a grasp to
Umbrella an interest for a common goal
Taking every step with virtually no bureaucracy
Holding the baton of command and instructions, so that
On no account are decisions challenged
Rights and responsibilities, directed by it for an
Instant turnover of loyalty and adherence
To manifest the will of the staff bearer
Yet it still can never be absolute
CHILDHOOD SEX
(for D.P.)
Oh, where is she now, love of my life, the woman I adore?
(I was five that summer, and she eighteen–—
in my childish heart of hearts, I had promised to marry,
knowing nothing of heartbreak and the grownup world of desire!)
— she walked up the steps ahead of me—
wearing a pair of those 1940s-style-cut white short-shorts
like Lana Turner wore in “Postman”:
and my heart did a tailspin–a turnover–—
from which I have never fully recovered!