Short With A Vengeance Poems
Short With A Vengeance Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about With A Vengeance by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about With A Vengeance by length and keyword.
fast and furious
winter comes with a vengeance...
a city snowed in
Date written: 11/20/2022
My mother
didn't have a word
or a tear
for defeat
but she hated
that uncomfortable catheter
with a vengeance
on those last
long days of her life.
Memories return
In quiet times they surface
Often whispering
And sometimes with a vengeance
A private experience
This theme from Constance's poem
Cafe For One
Winter has arrived with a vengeance up north
Seems earlier each year a new climate has morphed
Here's what I say to that
Shove it down your hatch
Cold weather and yours truly have officially divorced
Ridged peaks, rolling foothills
reach over our region,
rest under snow blankets,
recover from roiling,
raging summer wildfires.
Reeling smoke will only
return with a vengeance.
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The torrential rains
Poured into September with a vengeance
As the black clouds were driven in
By autumn winds,
Giving summer a sudden farewell.
Crushing my fading petunias
As the leaves along the dike
Were painted all shades of gold
And pushed to the sodden ground.
I thought we'd been
through this and left it behind,
I hoped it was freed,
no longer confined.
But it's back with a vengeance
from a dark place within,
where it's been lying dormant,
quietly feeding my chagrin.
I wish I could wipe it
right from my brain,
the memory of my mistakes
are an ugly, permanent stain.
I feel it.
Stirring again with a vengeance.
Waiting to pounce.
Waiting to spread.
Like venom, slowly killing me from the inside out.
And like a child who knows monsters are not,
I still cower under the sheets when I hear it growl.
It's hungry for me.
I glance in the mirror with a final hope of despair.
The monster is me.
Black plays red in age old battle
A click or two as dice are shaken.
Collect your thoughts before moving
Keeping a close eye on the count.
Gammon could be on the cards
As you counter move against Red.
Much jubilation as you hit a stone
Marching Red quickly to the bar.
Oh no, back in with a vengeance
Now Black becomes the under dog.
The tide stand tall
The wind blow strong
A clap of lightning
Strike’s with a vengeance
The thunder roar with
With a frightful loud roar
I hear a tremendous squeak
I see a of flicker of light
Totally black and silence
Follows..
The tide stand tall and began
To roll in
Taking everything back into
The sea..
To shackle it down to a watery
Grave..
First thunderstorm
of the season
rolling through
with a vengeance,
Dark gray clouds
boiling over
booms of thunder
threatening,
Lightning
in the distance.
The trees
are trembling
with fear,
Birds are hiding
taking refuge,
protecting
their nests,
Any minute now
the deluge.
written April 11, 2022
Pretty Lady In Her Pink
Rain drifted left to avoid the flower in the pink dress
The collision was inevitable though
Roots pulled at the wet drops like magnets in that direction
Nature does not think about such things
It drinks in life with a vengeance, tenacious, obstinate
Friendly tiny flower only wants the best
A simple drink to make it pretty
It yearns to be a gift for a young lady
Still virgin in her pink, in her nudity
Winter season is a momentary lapse of nature
A dormancy if you will
That allows the world to rest, almost die
In order to therefore come back with a vengeance
Upon the arrival of the refreshed world
People rejoice, leaving their heated homes
To enter into the great outdoors, welcoming
Not only the green of the earth, the yellows and purples
That now take abundance among the greenery
But to bask in the blue of the new spring skies
Mint in the eyes, metal in mood
buckled in sunshine, burning in brood
You represent all in life that is good
I long to be in your presence.
Sipping your whispers, earful and shine
standing like I still believe you are mine
Sappy and spindly in limbs while I pine
I miss your touch with a vengeance.
Wind in my mouth, catching my breath
pulling me forward until I accept
we are a mist from our birth to our death
We are the virtue in essence.
Now here’s a sorry story, they say free verse is spreading hate
for all the rhyming poets that come knocking on your gate,
Fifty Thousand U S Dollars is the prize to tell us why
you hate all rhyming poets with a vengeance up on high.
I wonder if the classics will suffer from this test
and we’ll have to burn their offerings along with all the rest.
Maybe us unwanted fools will never then be found
or we’ll just appear to disappear and publish underground!
Ivor G Davies