Snipped Poems | Examples

Death by Light

A fallow season, a time of trivial hungers.
Scissoring illuminations sheared his eyes.
Petulant lips pursed.
He laid himself down, yet again
covered himself over with a bone deep hurt.

Light cut and snipped
at the tangled hairs of a grey despair,
it swung him open
until a self-interned corpse flickered awake
in the pale eyes of cave bats

No longer were stone angel's graveyard attendants,
the world unboxed itself, he had been doornail dead,
now a gateway swung wide.

Was this life, or was this death by light?
Snails had left silver poems
on that part of his mind, he had yet to find,
yet it was near enough to dream of.

Winifred is not like the others

Old ladies in a line would be wearing pastel hats
Their shoes would be common, plain, ugly flats.
Their hair would be tamed, snipped and curled.
But Winifred had just had her soul unfurled.

Unencumbered, she was a dancing diva now.
She wanted her wild curls to give the men a wow
Their wives would hate her, what would they think?
Winifred did not care, she got out high heels – pink.

Bought the brightest dress she could, she was a tease.
Wore orange and green striped stockings to her knees.
She would give those old biddies a bit of a lurch.
She laughed to herself as she got ready for church.

Listening

Comb your hair and tuck in your shirt.
Put on a band aid if you hurt -
but he wasn't listening, the little squirt. 
He was on a different trip.

If you've something to say, be sure it's nice.
This bears repeating, not once, but twice - 
but he didn't listen to that advice. 
He didn't take that tip.

Pay attention to every rule. 
Remember to study your books in school -
but he didn't listen, the little fool. 
He didn't hear a blip.

Give your all to support the team. 
Save blue chip stamps and redeem -
but he didn't listen.  He stifled a scream.
He worried about his grip.

Get the right razor and get a close shave.
You're an adult now.  You must work and save -
but he wouldn't listen. In the wind he waved.
Would his sweaty fingers slip?

Now you know.  Your progress will be unsurpassed. 
Are you listening?  The question was asked, 
but he didn't hear, he was falling fast, 
the thread he hung by...snipped.

Cutting the Pizza

Our final night in Montreal,
To take a break from fries,
We saw a nice Italian place
We thought we’d patronize.

We ordered salad, beer and wine
And, perfect for our sharing,
An interesting pizza
Which they took their time preparing.

When it came out, we were surprised
For, though it looked enticing,
It was a perfect circle
Which no one had started slicing.

The waitress then provided
Not a slicer like we know,
But a special sharpened scissor
Which went smoothly through the dough.

The pizza was delicious,
Cooked to absolute perfection,
Which we happily devoured
As we snipped each brand-new section.

A tiramisu finished off
A most amazing meal,
With our unexpected scissor-slices
Part of the appeal.

Recombobulating Chaos

thoughts lick at my consciousness 
distracting me from the warm embrace
of the colour pallet unfolding
I stare with myopic eyes at the kaleidoscope
endeavouring to discern the demarcation 
of the edge of each shade
naming them as though they are listed on a colour chart
displayed at the local hardware store
but as soon as I have one splash of tint pinned down
it fades to be replaced by a more pleasing explosion of colour
a child’s toy impatiently twirled
a rainbow snipped into a multitude of shapes
in never to be repeated patterns

like an uxorious husband
it enfolds the evening sky in its loving embrace
its fleece soft fingers exploring 
lulled into a unison of consent
with a barely perceptible rush of contentment
a slight sibilant sigh issues 

memorialising daylight
clinging to the fringes of observation
the scene depicts its titular character
of moral decay
the riparian area jealously guards its supremacy 
as hydrophilic plants are robbed of their splendour

in a final display of defiance
alluvial fans buffet against the offing
recombobulating 
the natural order of Chaos:
The Great Deep of ancient mythology

To Be a Flower

"Be like a flower ... gentle, quiet and humble."
                            Quote _ Constance La France

Their blossoms faded to shades of amber filagree
Now, withered remnants of what they used to be 
Sweet scent that once perfumed a drawing room
On stems cut from my garden, each humble bloom
is spent, past prime; ready to be pressed in a book
or drying in bunches, quietly hanging upon a hook

Recently snipped, arranged in a Lalique crystal vase
are their progeny, who have taken their elders' place.
How beautiful they are, dressed in cobalt blue gowns
eliciting smiles of adoration, never woebegone frowns.
Their beauty gentles my mood when they stand proud
until they too, will wither and fade, their stems bowed.

Oh, to be like a flower ~ gentle, quiet and humble,
happy to entice the pollen seekers, a bee who bumbles
or butterflies who flutter fragile wings, flying so free.
How I wish sometimes that a tiny creature I could be,
with delicate wings spread, I'd travel without a sound
grateful to be alive, without setting foot on the ground.


May 22, 2023
Writing Challenge ~ B Quotes Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France

A Stitch In Rhyme

A quilt is a poem that’s been crafted
With stitches that cleverly mime
The words that a poet has drafted
In manner and rhythm and rhyme.

For in piecing a pattern together,
Every section, once stark and alone,
Must be seamlessly tailored to tether
It to others when carefully sewn

Just like adjectives, verbs and conjunctions
Plus the other unnamed parts of speech
Let the writer arrange, so their functions
Form the meanings that readers can reach.

When the final thread’s snipped from the needle
And the pencil has made its last mark,
Neither quilter nor poet need wheedle
For responses their efforts should spark.

Memory and Artwork

Memories are being snipped like flowers.
Putting together shades that scent like oil.
Melt almost like yolks pleading on towers.
The work depicts the many threads of hours.
The solder between brushstrokes and bowers 
Fear behind the helmet till its touch spoil
Memories are being snipped like flowers.
Putting together shades that scent like oil.


Written: February 18, 2023

Perfect Rose

Nothing is lovelier than the perfect rose
Exploding with color from a single bud
A vivid red nothing surpasses, I suppose
Favorite of lovers and vain bluebloods,
Aficionados excitedly await the bloom
Master gardeners eagerly show them, 
Camera at ready with a magnifying zoom
For an exquisite annual with prickly stem,
Well photographed before a coming rain
For such beauty may never again appear
It is snipped for a vase to extend its reign,
But, I suspect it will come back next year.

Written August 12, 2022

Do Not Tell Me

I cut my hair and dyed it this morning.
On the way out of the bathroom I snipped another piece off.
My eagle-eyed-first-and-last-husband said “Don’t tell me you cut your hair with my kitchen shears.”
So I didn’t.
I just put them into the knife block.

Slates of Innocence

The eagle is hurting – 
His wings snipped,
his majesty vacated;
replaced by the rats
of pigeons: Just a gray
common color – what
is left of a flamboyant soul
once the spectrum of individuality
is gone – bleached out by
Marxist designers and
and pressers. They plan for
the people the garments 
of slaves – hoarding Gucci's 
and Cassini's for themselves 
and profligate offspring – 

Equality seldom reaches
beyond their walls...
never approaching their
Elite doorsteps, paved 
with slates of innocence....

Gift-Giving 101

Delilah was hoping for pearls
But Samson thought she'd love his curls
Come on!   Be fair!
Who wants dead hair?
So Samson got snipped like the girls.

Great Neighbours

GREAT NEIGHBOURS

Yesterday as the afternoon was coming to a close
The doorbell rang, it was Vanessa holding a beautiful rose,
For you I have just snipped it,
Still communicate, two metres apart seems fit,
Was touched, Vanessa and Neel’s, best neighbours, it shows!

Older Than I Remember

Older Than I Remember

Things have not gone, 
the way that you believe they should. 
I have not said a thing. 
Things are not what they need to be, 
but that does not matter. 
I will stand beside you forever. 

Getting old, life happens. 
Being young was easy. 
Now everything must be;
measured, counted, poked, prodded, 
cut, snipped, or looked at. 
Vampires are fed often, 
the amount of blood requested, 
on any given trip, 
gallons. 

Cancer, prostate, 
high blood pressure, 
or worse. 
Nitrous…
Headaches, depression, 
brought on by too many 
visits to too many places, 
you were never supposed to go 
if and or unless…
you were dragged. 

It is hard to remember, 
When we danced all night. 
Now we take turns on the walker. 
Now we have a plate on the car. 

You are still everything to me. 
I know we are not the same, 
But I believe we are better. 
I would not change a day… 
a moment, an instance, 
from here to there, 
for anything else.

The word my heart speaks, 
out loud to my soul, 
not in a whisper, 
but in prayer, 
to my God…
humbly,
thanks.

A Trip Better Skipped -- Aka: Docs These Days

His soft tissue, it ripped
   All his discs, they had slipped
To the ER, the ambulance zipped
   To right this poor fellow's ship

His wife's hand he gripped
   On the worrisome trip
His whole world had flipped
   His wings had been clipped...

The monitors blipped
   His confidence dipped
Liquid steroids he sipped
   Drip-drip, drip-drip

Here the doc snipped
   Over there did he clip
Then he grinned, and he quipped
   'You've no more spine
     ~ Just a postscript.'

• Short Snipped Poems
• Famous Snipped Poems
• Best Snipped Poems
• Read Snipped Poems
• Long Snipped Poems
• Snipped Quotes