Short Unbalance Poems
Short Unbalance Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Unbalance by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Unbalance by length and keyword.
My left foot
Two feet that’s the same
Unbalance
I trip, fall
Mind is not the same as past
Live to honor it
Russell Sivey
Form: Shadorma 3/5/3/3/7/5
Answer Sijo
They say that we are not reborn upon the planet at all,
Some say we return to balance the previous life unbalance,
Answer lies in the sub text of a dozen religions for some.
love survives every hurt,
every unbalance, every regrouping
love survives every disappointment,
every catastrophe, every setback
love survives thanks to optimism and hope
love depends on uplifting words, warm arms,
and daily smiles, love survives
Of A Mocking Symbolic Justice’s Statue
Blindfolded justice,
Can’t symbolize equity
With unbalanced scales:
Such a torching mockery:
Blinding out democracy:-
Blinding justice
To unbalance equity,
Mocks democracy:
Poor humanity blinded
By such unjust mockery:-
searching for the perfect word on virginal paper
leads to the cut, to oaken tears, to a sorrow of yews;
then the unbalance, rowdy tracks of leaves and
branches, the pushing down against green bursts,
the mud and ways, as if we could claim to find more
than the idle wind through trees on a summer`s night,
more than a hush,more than a whisper,more than this
Nobody's reading,
and for good reason-
who wants to hear the jive and gibberish
of emotional unbalance; we all get that,
sometimes at our lowest point, but for me,
a near persistent reality, and it's something poetry
captures but can't hold on, because the horror never stops
as it does on the page, and exhalts in only feelings;
the depressive dips and rising rage, of oceanic waves.
Nothing in this world can feeble me
But your tears can unbalance me
For a bit of your sweet smile
I can fight with the fear
I can not forget
Our first meeting
When you call
So ease
Mom.
Yes
That sound
Pleasant, sweet
And it's a joy
A moment for tear
It's my identity
I forget all pain, sorrow
When I drag you with my chest
And often you call me mom, mom, mom
For my mother
Chitta
He who holds the key to my heart has no idea how much he really owns. He is
my unsung hero, my life’s big meaning in the crazy world we share. He holds my
hopes and my dreams for the little ones we’ve barred. If anything were to ever
change, my life’s unbalance would spin out of control forever taking over all the
wonderful things we behold. In saying all that is true the key he holds only he and
our children will ever be allowed to use.
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