Short Up For Sale Poems
Short Up For Sale Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Up For Sale by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Up For Sale by length and keyword.
Trump Put White House Up for Sale
Had happened and our faces turned pale,
Trump would put White House up for sale;
Flabbergasted;
His lies lasted,
And does likes telling them in a long trail.
Jim Horn
Eating each other,
the survival instinct takes you
to the coal-pit.
*
Seeking the closure
of gold mine. The jellyfish
has lost the stinging tentacles.
*
The beehive was in
turbulence. Golden honey was
going up for sale in famine.
What would you say if I told you ‘Death is a blessing’,
Would you worry for me or let me live on?
What could you do if I said ‘Life is a curse’,
Could you relieve me of my burden?
What should I do if loneliness is where I live,
Should I put it up for sale and move on?
Watch this space for vacancies!
What's left but a cripple?
Angry and Sarcastic,
Weathered lips
Bitten bloody
In the cold
January Fix.
Entered in a
Plummeting
Dirtied Drunk Mix.
Tasting;
Leaves,
Wheat and sheaves,
Daughters of Eves,
Feasts for Kings,
And other things.
Wetted tongues on
Driftless streets.
Heated talk with
Patterned
Beats.
When what
Appears to lifeless
Is suddenly up for sale.
When you an important exam fail,
It’s like you’ve stepped on a nail,
As worrisomely you ail
And seem not a little pale.
At suspected mockers you rail
And at those who would you hail,
For as long as they close to you sail
With scarcely trusted redeeming tale…
You’re a prisoner’s heart beating for a bail
But no consoling news from the mail:
Your harsh father to put you up for sale!
The day's wound down, its course's been run
The moon's a reflector, long gone's the bright sun
Your offspring transition to destinations far-flung
At work your job goes to a much younger one
You pack your boxes, put your house up for sale
Retirement villages beckon with their 'Holy Grail'
You're about to enter your Golden Years
Whence all your doubts? Where from your fears?
Our living is in your pocket but
Our hearts are not for sale
You have taken from Peter
To pay Paul for far too long
Now our house is up for sale
As we become transparent
You try to disappear
Promises and answers
From people that couldn’t buy a clue
Hear our wakeup call
Our dreams are not for sale
We believe in the Red White and Blue
But we have lost our faith in you
To you it is only about getting elected
But there is so much more for you to do
Not our lives but the wares we sell,
Not our faces but our masks,
Not our own voices, not our real bodies,
Not our names, but the brands we bear.
What we become in a vast alien time
Is how we are known to our fellows.
Not what we are but what we show,
Not our deep needs, not our real fears,
Not as we hurt but as we are hailed.
All we parade in the vast alien time,
All we have polished up for sale,
As if we are pieces of earthenware.
One wardrobe malfunction
was a blast, a kill;
undressing imagination.
I was ready for an ambush.
Like boa’s grip, entwined, strangulating,
hardly breathing. I am in blue water
like a humpback whale;
donot go for the revenge.
It was not the fabric of flesh
hair and bones. I was tasting
the ash falling off the forehead
of a fallen saint.
The smile was going up for sale
in a gulp of greed.
Tomorrow morning I will find
amnion shaved on street.
SATISH VERMA
Terry, as I called him, was ten years old when I bought him
No power steering, that, I could handle
No air conditioning, now that was a shamble
I tried fixing his air, but he said no
He drank all of the freon and said let's go
With my head out the window, we drove along
One day the brakes went out, and when he finally stopped, I walked home
I reluctantly put him up for sale
because he was my first car, my toyota tercel
Driving Me Crazy
Adrienne L. Gresham
One wardrobe malfunction
was a blast, a kill;
undressing imagination.
I was ready for an ambush.
Like boa’s grip, entwined, strangulating,
hardly breathing. I am in blue water
like a humpback whale;
donot go for the revenge.
It was not the fabric of flesh
hair and bones. I was tasting
the ash falling off the forehead
of a fallen saint.
The smile was going up for sale
in a gulp of greed.
Tomorrow morning I will find
amnion shaved on street.
SATISH VERMA
Form:
They lack the programming needed to control me yet,
They plague my mind with wants and needs,
Covering up everything that's me,
Do I disappear no I just get stronger,
They may have taken much from me,
But I'm not their father,
It's like looking at husks in hell watching them scurry around,
Did you ever think your master was what goes down,
Even a devil lives to tell the tale,
A snake amongst fixtures of one up for sale,
Salesmen yes,
Hellbound no,
Because it created fancy......