Short Waterways Poems
Short Waterways Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Waterways by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Waterways by length and keyword.
sun-tanned flesh burning
cooled by waterways of lake-
dog days lower heat
Haika-haiku Summer 5-7-5
Mick Talbot Contest
23rd May 2018
Venice,her beauty to behold
Colourful edifices from days of old
Charming waterways,traffic free
Bithplace of revered Vivaldi-
A pastel painted memory.
Glassy globules fall,
Slipping through sky’s cotton balls;
Giving life to all.
Dancing through the waterways;
How for granted, we take rain.
Predecessor of the dog; wolfs purpose is a special one.
Without wolves, water cannot flow freely; something all life needs.
Leave the wolves be or beavers will overrun the waterways!
re-post inspired by Nocola contest
Venice,her beauty to behold
Colourful edifices from days of old
Charming waterways,traffic free
Bithplace of revered Vivaldi-
A pastel painted memory.
glacier in distance
cool with life giving water
creating clear streams
going down mountains
carving waterways through stone
alluring to men
water goes along
abundantly flowing down
quenching the great thirst
Entrant into Gail Doyle's "A Scenery Of Your Choice As An Artist" contest
7/4/2012
Through trees and uphill we attain a peak
Not snowy mountains but alone in blue sky
Its rocky face hiding narrow paths inside
Persevering as landmarks to glacial crawl
Many species inhabiting vast areas within
Waterways run past towns in valleys below
Flight of birds returning at refuge above
Little acknowledgments of nature among us
WATER & GLASS
Watermarks
immersed in fluids
weave a whirlpool
stream of words
washing and waning
while
wavy waterways
weep
wet with tears
gurgles
will
gush
Translucent
crystal clear reflects
geometric gems
opaque flute glass
glacial
visible gloss
glimmers
glitter from guilt
© Kim van Breda—September 2014
A friend had booked a river cruise,
The Elbe the go-to river,
But got this message: “Sorry, but
This trip we can’t deliver.”
It seems that Europe’s waterways,
Due to a broiling summer,
Are much too low for ships to ply;
For tourists, what a bummer!
We’ve booked a cruise some months away,
Though I have got a notion
Hot weather won’t be quite enough
To drain away the ocean!
I've been to Paris, been to Rome
To many places far from home
Been to London and Madrid
On the move since I was a kid
Architecture there's amazing
Shops and restaurants too
The museums and the waterways
I could live there all my days
I suppose they have the same things
In New York and L.A. too
What's special about Europe
Is that for me it's all brand-new
Blue waterfalls run cold
in silvery moonlight’s beams;
a deer drinks river water;
cooled and refreshed,
leaps into the black forest.
Blue waterways run wild
like, hyena across the panorama
of scrub and brush;
kissed by African moonbeams.
Blue rivers are a magic elixir,
stirring the imagination
and tranquilizing the senses;
blue rivers run through
my twilight dreamscapes,
leaving me breathless.
Your vision, Your vision.
The recitation of a poem of metaphor.
And the blink means a throng.
Standing and clapping, clapping and clapping.
The world remains in grief.
Who's forgetting that?!?
Death is the same as rain, on either hand.
What is happening in the waterways. What's happening.
Just eat us. Just eat us.
The bread that's reddish.
Who watered it. Who irrigated it.
And who complains around the misery?
Amongst the guns and bullets
the tremors of a soul unfinished, refurbished,
by a cold cold war
Democrats, Republicans
dead remains without a name
who cares which side of the fence
you stand on
its a cold cold war
territorial sovereignty
tunnels and waterways
who owns rights to the land
God does
insignia of soldiers, rememorized past wars
no matter how you look at it
its a cold cold war
God Help Us !
Maple and Cherry Oak
deciduous delight;
a new wardrobe.
Another marriage;
violent waterways
racing traffic.
Cremation of
fallen family
lingers onward.
Reincarnated
sweet scent--
Lavender & Lilacs.
Desiring exactly
what we despise
as dreams drown.
Twenty branches above
percussion solos begin
between wings while
lead singers gather on
electrical tightropes
of music notation.
Trade-winds whisper
as the ocean above
remains motionless.
Until next
December my
dear winter.