Stall Poems | Examples

If you were there

If you could fight the storm
And sail the angry sea
If you saw a figure right in front of ye
Would you stall out
Or would you call out
Would you lock out
Or would you walk out

If you could fight the crowd
And brush the cloth of He
If you could hear Him call to you “who touched me?”
Would you stall out
Or would you call out
Would you lock out
Or would you walk out

If you would rather die
And feel the need to flee
If you knew He’s the only way to be free
Would you stall out
Or would you call out
Would you lock out
Or would you walk out

A Winter's Stall

Midst the flit wandered mist of lame Autumn
tethered vestige suns, seas a riverbed
failed wanton seasons a whole third it saved
absence to course unforgiving outcome
to no avail, tooth and nail have they none
in favored sway Summer's full weight reversed
subtle eve of Earth's slumbered leaves embraced
whilst silhouette's danse, scales seized near bottom.

The flicker of light dew quench the needy 
flora and fauna famished and focused
tour past the befallen qualm in despair
flits a blue, grey encumbered white-knotty,
the beaten lain quietude art dye cast
Wicket's Gate, windswept free ... Winter is here.

Sliding Under a Bathroom Stall

if you are finicky or squeamish at all
do not crawl under that locked bathroom stall.
You never know what you will find on the ugly floor
crusty dried feces and urine, other awful stuff galore
if you are the one who locked it and slid out of the way
know that we custodians kind of despise you today.

In a Stall

Stuck in a stall? Two options beckon.
But only one I deem correct.
You can just sit there or decide to...
reflect.

To Stall On a Concept

To stall

On a concept

Is to be

Trapped..

The flow of

What is happening

Seems interrupted

And the concept

Pedestal's itself..

Fundamentally

Setting a filter

For what is

Happening...

Winters Stall

Winters Stall
Written: by Tom Wright
10-18-2019

Silently shifting directions,
Migrant winds arrived without an entry pass,
dispensing a dose of shivers.

Wind chimes become agitated, and chatter on our patio,
disrupting the stillness and hindering my thought process.

Leaving me consumed by haunts of another time,
When I was “as confused as a goat on Astroturf”
unable to determine “if I’d found a rope or lost my mule”

Chimes are supposed to sound like Amazing Grace,
but always they’re just velvety noise.

Thaw Time Tune:A Change In the Weather

I remember the thaw 
when I headed South to crawl 
through Carnegie's tunnels 
in a Saab that would stall 
in the mist or the rain 
Spring, Winter, and Fall-- 
O I remember the thaw 
and the chance of a change 
if I could move what I did 
from New York's north grid 
down through the range 
filled with hard blue coal 
where I'd run as a foal-- 
O I remember that thaw 
and the chance-of a job 
in a town near the Mon 
named for the General 
George Washington 
who'd surveyed the vast land 
and survived the deft French 
and I felt my fists clench 
on the wheel of that Saab 
as I drove through each trench 
in a car that might stall 
while I attempted to crawl 
over the P A Turnpike 
to a job I would like 
and knew I could do 
with less snow, ice, and flu 
and a new car in the Fall 
one inclined not to stall 
if the weather turned raw-- 
O I remember the thaw!

I See Them Clearly

I see them clearly, although they try to remain hidden.
They laugh, and talk, flirting with each other.
Why can they not see I would like some alone time?
I never get that any more.

This new foreman is a great guy, but there is always music now
Or talking or a pretty girl, visiting, bringing muffins.
I liked the blonde one last week; she brought me an apple.
I stand here, silently, not making fun of them, but wanting to.

Seeing them clearly is my favorite thing to do.
She is not making headway; I know because of his stance.
He is a great guy, but should not play poker.
He has so many tells, I will be able to get an apple.

I stand and wait for the blithering and blathering to stop.
He is too polite. He needs to get rid of them faster.
Plus, he is my man. I do not share easily.
I wish I could step on her foot. I really do.

Shall Stall Tall Wall Which Should Sprawl

Shall Stall Tall Wall Which Should Sprawl

What seems to happen is they shall stall,
What is supposed to have  been tall wall;
Better yet,
What we get,
Is us being stuck with more urban sprawl.

Jim Horn

Lion In the Lamb's Stall

It's become fashionable to un-label things
be beige about everyone and everything
beige is a politically safe mirage of tranquility
because beige goes along with anything
be gender neutral or face a horde of fire balls
ignore when your ballerina is in a knife fight 
with a studded biker over a piss splashed stall

label me whatever but I like my salt and pepper labeled
I'm a lion and not into crapping next to a lamb or sable
I like my zebra zigzagging across the purple plains in a cyclone
I have nothing against beige but beige can never be a rainbow

The Shower Stall

Showe, shower stall
I really like you
Easy to get in and out
Shower, shower stall

Shower, shower stall
No matter what i do
Adjust shower head
the floor has puddles

I really don't know why
the repais are done
Now the floor is dry
then again its wet

Shower,showerstall
I see the wet floor
You were fixed before
Now the floor is wet
once more
Sigh! I wish I knew why

Empty Stall, Quiet Barn, Starless Night, Buried Horse

I'm here tonight
to stand in the ache.
The ache of hollow,
the empty of the not 
simply empty; rather,
the empty of the
recently full.

The silent ache of
missingness, of quiet.
Before the ghosts have
risen, before the
memorial stones are 
set.  Before the cards arrive.
Before the flowers
are vased to wilt.

I'm here tonight
to stand in the ache.
Of what so recently had
been.
Of who was.

I'm here tonight
to stand and weep
and shudder.  I'm here
tonight because
you 
are not.

Toilet Stall Depictions

There's a movement down South
where sound comes creeping 
from beneath our feet, emptying 
pockets which never had much. 

You can see what we've written-
our bathroom stalls read
'Do something for the hell of it... anything...'
The messages are clustered around depictions 
of stick-figures having gay intercourse.

Money- the ways they lied to us 
unintentionally, believing 
just like we do it’s a means to safety 
or luxury cars with ass-warming seats.

But it's just an enhancer of methods 
for questioning, down with the pill, 
all cost and no lasting. 

What gives weight to the want 
for lingering? Beauty was, 
and thus she is, now 
and *** tomorrows. 

Today, though form 
and seasons change,
we have the means for loving. 
‘Til the presently mysterious fabric 
of time collapses, returning 
to whatever it was 
that caused it to begin.

Bathroom Stall Poetry Critic

Tonight I'm a bathroom stall poetry critic 
let's see what we have here 
  
I LOVE TRANNYS 
DIVE AND LISA 4EVER 
SUCK MY F*CKIN DICK
  
Golly, do the kids these days 
ever love the 
liberal use of profanity. 
  
Certainly the reference to 
Transvestites 
(with a key 
and very tact 
misspelling) 
is indicative 
of the poets love 
of the unknown, 
and his relishing 
of diving into 
the unknown, 
especially when 
the unknown 
is not what he 
thought it was. 
  
Who is Dive? 
It's obvious that 
Dive is called Dive 
because he likes 
to hang out in 
Dives. 
  
Maybe that third line isn't poetry 
after all.

That Empty Corner Stall

The memories are still fresh in my mind. 
I'd walk around that old corner and happiness is what I would find. 
I remember the conversations we had that didn't consist of a word,  
the time you got scared by a bird, 
the times we laughed and cried, 
and the times we failed but we went back and tried. 
We were inseparable but not vulnerable. 
There was a happy face every time I opened that old wooden door. 
I couldn't have asked for anything more. 
Your eating habits made a mess, but that's what made our fun times the best. 
Yeah you were moody at times, and you didn't want to work with me. 
But we fixed that problem didn't we?? 
Yeah I was rough, but it was to benefit you and to make you tough. 
Breath taking moments, now turned to heartbreaking news...
it had to happen they said...my heart felt dead. 
The thought of us having to separate, made me feel desperate.
 Here we stand saying goodbye, but I refuse to cry this time.
 I walk around that corner once more, I find nothing but an empty stall and that old wooden door. 
There's nothing left but some left over grain, 
I hoped that you'd take our memories with you so only I would have to feel the pain.

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