Little

Learn more about other poetry terms

Poor ugly little girl burn your lips with perfume you mistaked as lipgloss Poor naive little girl just because he said how beautiful you were  you have him the key to your now broken
Sense September 7, 2018 ~ Friday Little lips Little bits of me, the tips Of where all words begin and end Little place to hide my insides
  Exposed only a little  I tell myself in summer  In the scorches of  August  I tell myself stories  About your smile  Tell myself lies  About tomorrow  And the next day 
Little girl, now don't be sad, I understand your pain, How you feel there's no way out, That you have gone insane.
Lonesome, sat the retched monsterDay in - day outFew stopped to see himOnly to poke, prod, and teaseVisitors began to extinguishHe stared, longingly, at his containment cell
You said goodbye. I said wait why? When i needed you the most That's when you bounce the most. All I ever wanted was to talk. All you ever wanted was to walk. Walk in front of me. Walk behind me.
Shafts of light shatter the morning skyBeyond the horizon, black clouds loom    Juxtaposed seriously  The effervescence of dew shines underfootThe mellifluous patter of feet    Working harmoniously 
Little Miss Magic of sweet song and sound. Little Miss Magic of perfect balance and crown. Little Miss Magic of passion and care. Little Miss Magic consumed by love and redacted of fear. 
Once upon a time In a land of song and rhyme Was a girl named Little Red With a hood upon her head Who traveled through the wood Carrying all the cookies that she could To Grandma’s comfy home
    Once upon a time the three little pigs. The three little pigs were old enough to go to college.
I have a family. I have a home. You can try to break me down, but I'm never alone.   I have a family. I have a home.  I may not look it, but I can hold my own.  
My little sister loved eggs. Every time we went over to Aunt Mary’s house, With her coops of cocks and chickens, She had to see some freshly laid Eggs.
Little Worries “Do what’s right and never lie.” I say “Why, when he’s big and mean?” She ask. “Little voices can do big things.” I say “Little voices get hurt too,” she says.
Little blue eyes, looking up at me You gaze and I wonder what you'll be You're hand wrapped around my finger tight I promise to hold you through the darkest nights   Little blue eyes, so full of dreams
Twinkle,  twinkle, little star How I wonder how you are. Since no one seems to ask if you're alright; Are you okay, will you live to shine another night?   Up above a world you once knew,
Little Wooden Porch Swing
Smile on my face 5, 6, 7, 8 Cheerleading. It's in my blood. 12 years of it. 12 entire years of my life. 12 years of pom poms, dancing, cheering on the crowd.
I write to the Little Girl in the Future. In case you have forgotten... In case you have forgotten the beauty of the swirling passions of the primitive past
My hate is embedded in a never said promise
Do you remember when you were little.
  I wonder if anything in life goes according to plan Or if there will always be these little bumps The kinks in the hose that won’t come undone
In a white colored coffin the baby lay, Her mother had wept the night away. Not feeling her dying breath, With her clasped to her mothers chest. She prayed to keep,
Your scent just suffocates me, bringing me down into a hole deep and dark. Why would you do this?   Your warm body was once mine, keeping me from freezing at night. Why did you leave?  
Little girl in the photo where will you go? will you sweep it beneath? will you go with the flow? will you camofauge in with the rest? will you set yourself apart and do what is best?
Why must happiness be so hard but grief and hatred so great? Why must we learn or except our fate I feel like crying, I feel like dyeing
I was to young to  deal. Started not to feel. Never took the time to heal. Somehow it didn't feel real.   I was to young to see. Thought it was apart of being me.
Enthralled by your unbounded beauty That I admire all seven days a sennight, It is me that you do not see; My heart pounds madly at your mere sight. Although we descend from people of conflicting histories,
Little stream through the woods How sad and lonely you must be Tired too though many can’t see You fight and fight to make it through And one day when you finally do In the big ocean you will be
My Black is Beautiful, My Black is free Thanks to all of the Blacks that came before me Three years old no father killed by the life he lived Please little black girl don’t cry I reached but he wasn't there
How doth the little moth Fly high up in the sky? Flitting gently from light to light It seems to find pleasure and delight. How does he fly with so llittle care? Clumsy and such, but STILL doesn't care
On a small sunshine covered leaf A little white egg rests, Listening to the words of the wind And waiting to begin earth’s tests.
A million times I’ve told you before Not to travel alone at dark It’s impossible to even the score For there’s a beast within the park It’s eating the livestock It’s eating your kin
My little lady, Is going to work today. Dressed in her Sunday's Best, As she trots down Avenue A. She'll sit at a bench, For a near twelve hour day, Yet still will only make, Nearly half of my pay.
Stink like a bear stuck on a tree trunk Baby you smell like a nasty payment Wishing you had soap you couldn't buy Old bread in your Ice box Ted in your knee trunks Girl your boyfriend got a stinky job
Subscribe to Little