pantoum

Learn more about other poetry terms

Smelling dung and sunshine, Inspiration is shy. With chickens I’m, Asking why,   Inspiration is shy? Or is it darkness?
    It was difficult to hear at such a young age. She should’ve known it was bound to happen. They weren’t happy anymore.
Blow the candles out. Make a wish. Happy birthday! Don't forget to smile.  
Childhood friends on the playground; Playing in the sand finding gems; Getting ourselves dirty for no reason; Becoming our own superheroes.
Within human introspection comes a price, A revelation to the darkness of the mind. Venturing inside requires the roll of the dice, Are you ready for something not so kind?  
"I feel like I don't really know much about you," Spoken by three friends I have known for over two hundred days. Only a little over half a year is really no time at all though.
She couldn’t even whisper In her eternal sleep Had to wait ‘till he kissed her Lovely ladies don’t peep   In her eternal sleep
She sat quietly, waiting for the storm to end But when it didn’t, she ran. She tried to see through the fog And waited for the mist to rise,  
Jimmy was smashed by his giant wings 
where had my wacka gone 
the clock ticks remarkably fast, take a deep breath and look back, each moment is becoming the past, think of experiences you still lack.   take a deep breath and look back,
“Pain”
I take a journey into another land. Travel to long forgotten places. Explore new worlds and meet new people. I become an adventurer.   Travel? To long forgotten places?
It all began on a windy day, When I held my carved heart on a plate, And that was when she tapped her heels, Afraid of the fact I was hollow.   I held my carved heart on a plate,
And in the end that was all she could hear;The sound of his breathing as he made his assault.She screamed, but it was if no one was near.How could this have been her own fault?  
To match her skirt of scarlet red Below a long, grey coat, The crown of feathers on her head  Above a soft, pink throat.    Below a long, grey coat
To the black and white minstrel Capped in red Drumming a ballad of beat In a forest ballroom with ceilings of leaves   Capped in red Autumn trees stand tall
He lays there alone in his crib His eyes flutter shut And he sleeps   Alone in his crib with a blanket over his feet And he sleeps dreaming of the future  
the smell of pumpkin spice in the air crunching leaves underfoot with high-heeled boots golden candlelight illuminating from carved pumpkins the sweet taste of warm apple cider in a red mug  
When the morning arises and the city blooms a flower Rooted deep in the heart of man It spreads grotesquely in the light of the brightest sun Urging forward the time for murder and creation  
It is time to get up;I hear the pounding on the door.He yells-because it is what I deserve
Something small told me to wait in silence, but the bitter voice of my heart's scars kept mourning every aching wound that cried out at the mottled shadows of the night,
I have been known to be an irritant to friends and family(the few that I see). Right brain always fishing, a puzzle to twist, a code to crack.
Subscribe to pantoum