Short Lived Poems - Poems about Short Lived

Cast him not in bronze, Nor sculpt in pottery clay, Lay down the chisel Where the marble bust holds sway. Better to fold paper In the Origami play, So when fame has died, He can quickly blow away....

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In the quiet of early morning, a dewdrop clings to the edge of a leaf, a fragile globe reflecting the first light. It trembles, a breath away from falling, a brief testament to the night's embrace. So too, our joys, gathered like rain in the cups of our hands, slipping through fingers no matter how tightly closed. The laughter of children fades into...

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She pumped the air and whooped, 'The holidays are through!' She danced a jig, she spun, and did a moonie too. The grinning mother yelled, 'They're back to school again!' But then her laughter died, she groaned in awful pain and mopped her furrowed brow, for she's a teacher now... written 20th August for Francine's Back to School contest...

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Short Lived Thoughts Written: by Miracle man July 15, 2021 Sometimes like comets thoughts rush by, as dust bunnies from a troubled mind. Concerning some moment I might decry, leaving me, in anguish, questioning why? These thoughts arrive at an early hour, and continue not for a time that’s long. Some, on arrival, from a higher power, have stirred my voice into virtual song. ...

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B rewing her potions one Halloween eve, Witch Hazel R eceived a sting from a bee; E liciting the response of a flyswatter smack. V ulnerable bee, he lay upon the dark, dank floor. I nstead of sweeping away, little bee, Witch Hazel T hrew him into her brew and laughed with glee, Y a, haha, ha, I’ve got you now,...

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The night was brief, its black tent threatened to fly away from the sunset, stars gleamed naked, then hid in a half-light. Between the glimmer, night ran as if hunted. No one thought this a good sign. No one blessed the fleeting dark, no one praised the lingering and early light. We saw the cornered eyes of backyard critters, how they backed up...

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You think you’re the best Your mind is at rest You love with trust and zest Believing that deep down he feels the same. But now I’m afraid His love could abate It looks like it's too late Already in his dreams he calls her name. [I have to point out that this is not the usual tailed rhyme poem, ...

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I laughed today, in impetuous fits of giggles that clenches the belly and ignites every sense as though it were kindling with a spark big enough for my heart to catch aflame I felt alive, pretty, like a wildflower bloomed in the wasteland of my soul, but then I thought of you and immediately wilted...

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Words are dying everyday As short-lived as when imagined A plead be a beseeching dismay Yet as lived... where have I been? Perhaps a little guidance for despair A foothold for the disappearing grounds To once more walk with a solemn flare And nevermore with fear to turn simply around Yet the more to will, I am not to see Of words begging a...

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In the early days of March, at the very start of spring I saw people plant roses, and praise the love they would bring Well, at that point I had been saving a special sort of seed And that spring I would plant it, even though there where warnings, I did not heed And now loves rose is dead,...

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Fine beauty why so sad- the art nouveau dream SOIS BELLE ET SOIS TRISTE Baudelaire ideal that features in much Aret Nouveau eg Alphonse Mucha Bronze Bust http://www.cigala-art.co.uk/mucha-lady-bust-bronze-nouveau-sculpture-p-250.html...

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A summer romantic perfume - ...

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'neath weeping willow oaks- drifts of bluebells bide....

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