Short Whorls Poems
Short Whorls Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Whorls by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Whorls by length and keyword.
I draw a cartoon cat
a cartoon dog
a cartoon rat
a cartoon log
my pen makes whorls
and stars and confetti too
cartoon drawing is what I do
regaling spring sniffs
. streaming through whorls of flowers
fill dad's autumn years...
Date Sept 21, 2016
Name of contest
Contest no211
Any form any theme
a fair wind stirs my orange
pearl buried in the whorls of sand
cracked from the hard
shell and mangled by rolling seas
venus lies
return my fallen vessel
let your sails unfurl
flushed swells at sunset
inflamed by pink skirted clouds…
-waves-
emote crimson whorls
rainbow wisped currents
preen and crest as daylight wanes …
-waves-
fan their peacock tails
Big leap from pencil
Exclamation marks
Scribbles and whorls
Paragraph writing
Not erasable
A cartoonist
Writer of prose
Middle school
Soiled fingers
Permanent
Poetry
Penmanship
Bluish
Tattoo
Ink
specks on a page
whorls
loops
squiggles
dashes
writing means the world to some
nothing to others
readers
writers
dreamers
thinkers
living in a world
unimaginable and unattainable
to those who can’t
the illiterate
A veil of sadness
was pierced,
the fabric of sorrow
ripped.
In moments
a rippling silence
eschewed.
I was liberated
from a shroud
that bound my grief,
I am now a silken thread
fixed to spin,
in silent whorls.
in soft outline
strokes
whorls&
stains
cropping close
piercing black
upright
&
informal
imaginary &surprising
ambiguous
perhaps
an allusion
something from
nothing
refined
evocations
of
minimalist
tracery
See how the lowly myrtle
seduces the lordly pine.
She entwines her arms
around him, he
submits. Beneath them
falls their issue: not
flesh, nor sinew, nor bone,
Only, sweet symmetrical
cone, its perfect whorls
and burls, the best
of both worlds.
I am frightfully fanciful,
My feather has a flourish
I am feeling foxy
My whorls and loops
Showing my stuff
Strutting
Yes I am a show off
Proudly and magnificently
Not everyone can do this
But I can
I am fancy
I write with a flourish
I am beyond reproach.
ready for black belt test
green is the arena
protected by aura
fairy umbrella dewed
like teddy
eddy whorls
but steady
spready tail
winning wed
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Grief
a fluttering of moth wings
turns the air into minute
whorls of short breath.
space does a catstretch to infinity
then curls into a tight ball.
one, one, one
a word once insignificant
echoes through the mind
like midnight footsteps
on a drizzled cobble street.
alone
ideas swirled in outrageous loops and whorls outside her mind
others could not see, but she could feel them on her face
some were gentle, romantic, and kind
Others were harsh, mean, angry, horrifyingly evil
where did they come from?
Her muse would not reveal this
Silent for a change
When you have become to me
as roses bloom, in memory,
exquisite, each sharp thorn forgot,
will I recall—yours made me bleed?
When winter makes me think of you—
whorls petrified in frozen dew,
bright promises blithe spring forsook,
will I recall your words—barbed, cruel?
Originally published by The Lyric
I dreamt of a pet from the long-ago past
pale green eyes, in that classical cat pose
sitting just beyond a pane of frosted glass.
Amidst whorls of pearls and white roses
within the downy of that paw patter dream
nobody could see the precious vision but me...
as I awoke, offered a salted pearl of my own
to the sweetened sun spray of dawn-
ten am, a July morning
There is a holy presence out here
I cannot see it, but I feel it
I sense spiritual orbs and whorls
invisible to my human eye
emitting from the streams of the sun’s dust streams
garden soaks up the rays like a starving man
marigolds, day lilies and lilac smile their appreciation
ruffled and pretty, delicate and fine
Crazy crow flew in loops and whorls
Flying pattern as scalloped as mama’s curls
Wee witch said he’s the familiar for me
Invited him to sup on blueberry afternoon tea
Crazy crow flew in the window, around the kitchen twice
The cat said “he looks marvelous, I think he’s nice.”
She truly thought he looked plump and tasty too.
When the crow saw this fat cat, away he flew….
The spinning whorls
on the palms of girls
who stroke your burning brow
the cryptic signs on valentines
that say I LOVE YOU now
encoded tales of those who failed
to win their lovers hand
all this I see
when you gaze at me
and make your secret plans
your furrowed brow
says tell me how
to win your fragile heart
you won't discern
what can't be learned
so let us
live apart.
Form:
They soar through space-scapes of
divine milky whorls and blue halos;
incandescent dandelion wishes
blown across nocturnal fields -
illuminating the imaginative expanse
between eternities of cosmic dark ages and light years
are fiery pixies burning holes through obscurity
with passionate gold dust gilding awe -
souls arising fulfill their destinies
Susan Ashley
August 13, 2019
F acades of whorls and arches
I ncantations of dents and ridges
N umbness felt, freezes and pleat
G entleness of touch, rubbed so neat
E mblems of lights and shades
R olling like thunder of glades
P rinted souls of innocence
R ampage of hailed magnificence
I nk of spirited blood
N ascence cloaked from ancestral shroud
T attoos of known or odd origins
S ilhouettes drawn by hooded mannequins
beautiful red-headed bucking star
brilliant whorls- green aurora-eyed
quick-minded, sprinting faster than light
thought I could tame it-bring it to its knees
but she's also a teaser, artist supreme
painter of widows and orphan dreams
she bucked me off like all the rest
into a black wall of red star regrets
here we lie broken, gazing at the sky
praying for another chance for a
wild bucking star ride
Blush
fair skies
mist Sol-kissed
citrine seduced
mimosa clouds bask
dreamy in champagne light
golden-god’s sparkle fills
chalices roused and
rouged as poppies
hail dawn with
unfurled
whorls
Susan Ashley
August 16, 2021
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Merse
Sponsor: Malabika Ray Choudhury
*rouged: verb; French; colored red*
*image: Nature Wallpapers > Fields > Poppy field at sunrise*
Sorrow-eyed, harp in hand began to chant a tale.
Like gossamer threads dulcet whispers waver near evening gale;
swarms in cunning swirls and whorls and drawn
at the edge then wake trailing off with the morning dawn.
Softness of water silk falling into a mere sigh
warm embrace within the dim as it holds up the sky.
3/20/2019
Poetry Contest: Pick A Title, Vol. 2 - Rhyme - 4. Hold Up The Sky
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
mind as big as the universe
thoughts are stars
that travel through
the empty spaces
between galaxies
searching for home.
the conundrum of galactic
whorls; coloured for spite
by gods who love to scramble
eggs, of a morning, into limpid
gases of guess work.
we pray to the he/she/it up there
like firing rockets of exploration
into the unknown
expecting answers and acts
from a being on a throne.
`
Grandmother Spider was constructing an intricate web
Full of dainty loops and whorls, to catch humans unaware.
She incorporated ideas they could have never had during the day
Their imaginations are on fire during REM sleep slumber.
Grandma Spider recognized this, letting them dance and sing
Some caught fire and ran toward their muses
Others blew away in the dust upon their awakening.
Grandmother Spider never gave up trying. She was a dream-weaver,