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Pear-shaped
sorry as a world
with no art is
our one pretty pear
for supper
Digte om emnet: supper
Digte om emnet “supper” på Poets.by.
Shape shift
I am an owl
(who calls my name)
I am a bear
(so much pursuing
of a tangier supper)
Lowered expectations
I miss the ordnance in hope
turn as far as the peak
and so home to church
and a ham supper
Surgical strike
a half-hour war
from our want of discourse
ordinary as the afternoon
then home to supper
Bon vivant
night is a welcome wine
and a great carcass
I go home to supper
red as a bee
Teeth of the storm
the din of ice
busy as we eat
supper and news
Home body
the office made me love
to stay at home
sitting up after supper
as fat and full as a bell of plague
Warden
robins going
out of the prison
I eat a late supper
Cooked
coffee for her headache
night comes for the cook
and her art is no more
after supper
Polished
a body in a grave is without
any breach of civility
though its mouth
is all drawn in
like what teemed
at so late a supper
Lovers’ quarrel
sore lovers play at harm
a horse of no stomach
cold as rain talking all afternoon
they try a poor thin supper
Vagabond
myself negligent of myself
I stop working
I shall leave myself bare
but singing
at the first sight of supper