Short Whirligigs Poems
Short Whirligigs Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Whirligigs by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Whirligigs by length and keyword.
shift of the leaves
slowly changing
separating from summer
chilling whirligigs
ready for color
dying to fall
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8/27/2022
aged
leaflets
gold and crisp
hued
scarlet
whirligigs
wind
briskly
blows and shakes
yard
lettuce
raked and tossed
bones
of oak
left leafless
9/14/2018
My brand-new garden spinner twirls
When breezes start to blow.
It joins my dancing windsock,
Strips a’flying to and fro.
The wind provides the magic
For the whirligigs and trees,
From little puffs of air to gusts
Of varying degrees.
On days when all is still, I hope
The weather will improve
So I will once again enjoy
All things the wind does move.
Considering whirligigs, how they spin,
While I, I sip on my ginger and gin
Awaiting the next miracle my way,
While my hair turns ever so gray
Thinking about small wonders now,
And asking myself, quietly, “How?”
FOURTH PLACE WINNER
written July 6, 2021
for "Bite Size Poem No. 11" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Line Gauthier
My whirligigs are spinning;
The trees are all a’sway.
The dafs, with blooms beginning,
Bow their heads in mock dismay.
The windsock strips are dancing;
The bushes are a’bounce,
The dogs on leashes prancing,
Swishing tails an added flounce.
As I sit here with my writing,
While the sunshine’s all a’peek,
Rhyming words have been alighting
To allow my thought to speak.
My whirligigs are whirling
Since the wind has come to call
And my windsocks’ arms are twirling
Like they’re gearing for a brawl.
The temperature is dropping
Back to wintertime degrees
And the gusts will not be stopping
‘Til we all begin to freeze.
Mother Nature is enjoying
Making mischief these days; hence,
‘Tween the seasons we’ll be buoying
As she laughs at our expense.
dim and dismal green
disconnected from the sun
waiting on the rain
the leaves dull-humid
still-standing, no breeze blowing
expectant of drench
a relief of burns
the Summer cold to the touch
an austere old thing
the tinkling droplets
chime whirligigs with fancy
those cool snowy clouds
puddles with bare feet
the steam escapes the pavement
white sandals in hand
7/23/2019
My windsocks and my whirligigs
All dance and spin around
And with wind chimes, there would also be
A sweet melodic sound.
The wind’s a great companion
When it’s gentle, with a breeze
That allows these things to happen,
Meant to lift one’s mood and please.
Even when the wind is whipping,
It’s a marvel to behold,
Though perhaps that’s only to the point
When it can be controlled.
Guard dogs try to sleep in a deaf corner.
Smaller barkers do what they do best
from under bed or table.
Large bugs in the sky
keep blinking and teasing.
They jig and jag
and only the dogs
and a few elderly cats
can hear them.
Whirligigs descend only to disappear,
spinning wings bite the air.
K9 units are advised
to use extreme caution,
it's almost as if
we know that they know.
The storm brawled with the flying rags
of mad clowns.
Small birds exploded
in spiral sprays of feathers.
Deer slogged against a hoof tugging fright.
Raccoons clung to barn beams.
Trashcans spun like whirligigs.
Ducks sunk amid churning reeds,
the wind hurt every eye & heart.
All hid from the calamity jig.
Whirling trees danced,
in a bugaboo blow
that chased a sky around its own
wracked
and flying red ribbons.
Received a letter this very day; bearing a tale of woe
Words detail a love now lost; as tears begin to flow
The mind does spin as whirligigs; emotions cast about
A life of love and devotion; cast asunder; simply thrown out
An artist knows; that paint must flow to cover a broken heart
Brush strokes wipe the pain away; pain of two lives torn apart
Bold colors display the pain he could not hide; would not hide
The canvas now reveals what the artist feels; knowing a love has died