Best Building Poems
Ferreting around, in dumpsters of dreams
In the back alleys of my imagination
Through swill, liaisons, and cheap rendezvous
And words misspoke in conversations
Rummaging for one morsel, an old tattered remnant
In a disregarded or discarded memory
For that one piece of the puzzle, a maggot's repast
To feed a starving, rapacious fantasy
I find a face, in a crowd, dark eyes and dark hair
It was only a passing glance
There's a memory, lost, of a soft tender touch
From a young girl at my first high school dance
Then mixing and matching, of shapes and sizes
I've always been partial to curves
A voice, a whisper, an exciting laugh
From a stupor that's still just a blur
In this jigsaw fantasy, some light conversation
At a restaurant by candlelight
Some soft music, slow dancing, funny improvisation
Then a romantic walk in moonlight
She's intelligent, engaging, laughs at my jokes
I'm forever lost in her eyes
While we dream with the stars, with her kiss I'm awoke
In the dark , I sit and I sigh
an original poem by Daniel Turner
Categories:
building, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
I filled a small trench that yielded fresh water.
Built as a serpentine and with a sharp corner.
A small waterfall sang a melodious sound,
A lulled sleepiness induced when it hit the ground.
On each side of the rill, fair, watery plants grew,
A great choice of Algae. Ferns, a lobelia blue.
Fitful arrowheads and water lilies adorn.
Cardinals and others begin their flight in the morn.
Already prepared was a slightly large pond,
Well covered with cement mixed with soil beyond,
I planted some hyacinths and water lilies.
Soon, dragonflies waltz around like sillies.
My final job was planting a dwarf willow.
Don't be surprised, robins made it their pillow.
Categories:
building, flower, water,
Form:
Sonnet
That night, in a strange place
I was like a fly
Circling a street light
Reeling…Reeling!
I felt so alone
Fear wrenched my throat
Couldn’t predict
When I would be charred to death
I had heard,
In the cover of dark
Everyone was a robber
Or a masked assassin!
Without a roof over my head
I was like a mole
Smoked out of its hole
And exposed to blaring light
Had it been my own town
Where I knew
Every nook and cranny
Like the lines of my palm
I wouldn’t have minded
Being so helplessly stranded
Or left in the night
At a distance….
I saw the faint silhouette of hills
Like dreadful dinosaurs crouching
Also the outlines of buildings
Reminding one of the medieval haunted castles
Stray dogs, mangy
Were raiding the trash bins.
I don’t know why then
I enjoyed their company
I could hear the falling hooves
Of cattle, led to the slaughterhouse,
And the lash of whips falling on them,
Echoing the shrieking of a banshee!
Saw an auto lying upside down
Fallen unwary in a pothole
A line of tanker lorries
Seen halted by the roadside,
Like the bogies of a goods train
And their drivers went home,
To sleep with their mates
Behind the cover, I saw
Two figures leaning;
A man and a woman
Night owls at a mating serenade!
I closed my eyes,
Covering them with my palm
In that unearthly hour
An eerie fear gripped me.
Tension was building inside,
Like a balloon being bloated with air
And how my mind longed
To slither out of that hole
To curl up in the warmth of my home
Far… far away!
Categories:
building, angst, fear, lost, night,
Form:
Free verse
Your entering an elevator
in the skyscraping building of life.
As you step through the doors
your uncertain of which floor is right.
So you press all the buttons
hoping to rely on your sight.
Upon reaching the first floor
look who steps in, it's your wife.
Reaching the next floor,
your child comes running in.
You embrace them with happiness,
as the doors close once again
Then onto the next floor
with a bunch of smiles you all go.
Upon reaching the next floor
another child runs in "Oh no?"
Whats going on?
This wasn't part of the plan?
"Oh well I can take it,
that's right, I'm a strong man."
As you reach the next floor
your wife says this is it.
Exiting the elevator,
your kids start to throw a fit.
As you are about to exit
you see your wifes hand on the door.
Then she turns to you and says,
"Why don't you go up one more floor"
With the doors closing,
you see tears in your wifes eyes.
"Why would she be crying?
Was she telling me goodbye?"
Reaching the next floor,
you decide to see what this floor is all about.
This must be the right floor you sense,
in your mind with out a doubt.
As you turn to the elevator
to go back down one floor to your wife.
You see there is no down button,
for the elevator in this building of life
Dan Kearley:11-30-11
Categories:
building, life, places,
Form:
Rhyme
Building a bridge to your heart
I know... I wasn't there for you
I know... I disappointed you
but... I didn't want to
break your heart
I know...you relied on me
I was a little too carefree
but I didn't want to
break your heart
Chorus
So now I'm gonna build a bridge
Yeah, think I'm gonna build a bridge
So I can come back home,
and walk across, these rocky waters
Yeah, I'm gonna build a bridge
think I need to build a bridge
to lead me back...
back to your heart
It's taken me so much time
I didn't even realize...
that I broke it...
broke your heart
We cannot go back in time
Now, I've just got to find
another way to bind
your broken heart
Bridge
I think I've got to build it! (oh yeah)
I know I've got to build it! (oh yeah)
Now I'm ready to build it! (for you)
Chorus
So now I'm gonna build a bridge
Yeah, think I'm gonna build a bridge
So I can come back home,
and walk across... these rocky waters
Yeah, I'm gonna build a bridge
think I need to build a bridge
to lead me back...
back to your heart
John Derek Hamilton
Jan 31,2017
Categories:
building, courage, forgiveness, future, metaphor,
Form:
Lyric
I'm writing this poem in the last days of 2018. The government of the United States is shut down in a fight over the building of a border wall. I am reminded of another border wall that was erected during my lifetime.
In 1961, East Germany built a wall
Of concrete, barbed wire, and steel
Ninety-six miles around East Berlin
At the cost of a bit less than four million dollars
And a bit more than 200 lives.
Intended to stem the flood of East Germans
Seeking freedom to prosper in the West.
A young and inexperienced President Kennedy
Didn't comprehend why East Germany
Needed a concrete wall
When it already had
An Iron Curtain.
In 1989 the Berlin wall was torn down in a frenzy
Of sledge hammers and bulldozers.
Only remnants of it now remain - mostly in museums.
East Germans celebrated and rebuilt their lives.
The reunited Germany flourished
And joined other nations in a united European future.
Why do we think that our wall will have a different legacy?
Categories:
building, america, freedom, history, political,
Form:
Blank verse
Oh, Trust,
You are the blessed cornerstone of every
Relationship.
You are the durable rock of
Dependence.
You are the unshakable groundwork
Of reliance.
For that reason
Only upon your unyielding foundations we
Should build any edifice:
Of care
Of partnership
Of friendship, and
Of love,
So as
No earthquake of doubt,
No storm of distrust,
No thunderbolt of suspicion-
No matter how powerful they might be-
Would ever succeed in reducing it,
To RUINS!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
04 June 2021
Categories:
building, endurance, relationship, trust,
Form:
Free verse
Roughnecking in Texas was a bachelor's life
Social by nature, not looking for a wife
A chance encounter, at a stop sign was she
Eyes kissed, hearts danced, we knew instantly
Like harbinger daffodils foretelling of spring
Together, sharing dreams, our future was seen
We struggled at first, adjusting to change
Birth of a love, brings harsh growing pains
Both were determined, to persevere and succeed
Using lessons we'd learned, from fails previously
Respect, understanding, compromise and passion
That first year together was anything but magic
Giving of love, taking same of
Standing firm when the ground was shaking
Over hills of remiss through valleys of bliss
A warm comforter in times of heartbreaking
With the hardness of a love, to build a foundation forever
And the tenderness of love, to fulfill dreamed endeavors
That first year of trials we built a family foundation
Which served years to come for our next generation
Feb. 1- 2016 an original poem by Daniel Turner
Categories:
building, love, daffodils,
Form:
Rhyme
DEAR LITTLE WEB-BUILDING SPIDER
God made you a great weaver.
You listen to God. You are aware of His presence.
Even though you cannot see well, you build your
home with many fine threads. You are creative.
You travel with God up canyons, through the meadow
grasses, up tree limbs, along the sides of huge rocks
and boulders. God created you, Little Spider, to
weave your web for His glory. You live alone, but
you are never lonely. You know God is always with
you. With a gentle whisper, He blows your web
around. You smile at God. You realize God loves you.
Are you not one of His meek-ones?
And didn't Jesus say the meek-ones will inherit the
EARTH
FOREVER?
Janet Marie Bingham
Categories:
building, beauty, creation, environment, feelings,
Form:
Prose Poetry
i was seven the day they knocked —
“can we play with the spanish girls?”
yaphia and tarita,
smiling like the sun outside our door.
mama laughed,
said “spanish girls?”
because yaphia’s father was puerto rican too.
and that was the start -
the start of everything.
we held each other like secrets -
first periods, first kisses, first heartbreaks,
all the firsts we whispered into the walls.
we cut class, we laughed, we cried,
we failed, we succeeded,
we survived.
there were things no one said out loud -
but we carried them all the same,
in glances, in silence,
in the way Fire looked when no one was watching,
in the way Tarita’s smile flickered just before the storm.
we’re mothers now,
with children and husbands and lives that pull us apart,
but when we meet -
time folds.
no distance, no years,
just the same three girls
with the same unspoken pact.
whatever secret needs telling,
we tell.
whatever joy needs celebrating,
we celebrate.
no questions asked.
no judgment given.
we are more than what tried to break us.
we are the mothers, the sisters, the keepers of light
who never forgot how to hold each other.
we carry each other still -
in laughter, in tears, in the spaces between.
and i love you, girls,
more than words in this letter can hold.
thank you for being my safe place -
then, now, always.
Categories:
building, childhood, friendship love, i
Form:
Free verse
Sat in rows dressed for summer, we convene to talk about winter and death. There are four screens in the room.
one in front
left right
and behind
that/reflect my face and body. I feel like an angry dog, wishing, anxious, snarling, wanting to claw at the animal. In the tomb of my ancestors, carefully collecting pieces of cream porous bone to dash out my brains, asleep and awake and dreaming—a staircase, with its finality!— The spirits that track scum within my veins (The professor says that Loneliness creates Weight) are restless and full of impure intention. Relieve me of dogs, winters, ghosts. Let me catch myself upon the concrete wall and maybe I could grasp what it is I’m supposed to be thinking about. Anchor me against the day, forlorn with torn, torn nails. It were
as if my plastic chair was wood
and the ground before me scattered with
locks of a girl’s hair, every few seconds
I am executed. My brains fried
beneath the metal dome, cold
and shining like the hand of God.
Twitching, extending outward, I
release
foam from my mouth
wishing to feed someone’s children
baby, baby birds. My executioner
asks again if I had something to say,
and always, I will say
continue.
Categories:
building, absence, angst, animal, anxiety,
Form:
Free verse
What is the point? Asked Mrs. Snooty.
The point is I could not make up my mind when we
were building, so I said put all three in.
We are not talking light switches.
We are talking light fixtures, and they are
gorgeous. I love them.
Not in the middle like most small eight by eight
rooms, but marching down the middle of the ceiling
in a proud line.
The point is, I like it this way, and it is my house.
I love color, and they are all colorful.
How did I raise someone this prissy?
I wonder to myself.
Categories:
building, mother daughter,
Form:
Free verse
Written: February 15, 2024
______________________________________
I ultimately rule over these stunning valleys,
Elm trees with mossy brows line the alleys.
Where distant peaks arise, calm and azure,
Akin to the strong tripods used for rapture.
Who can't view river stones as viable paths?
A scad of scramblers on spurs stoning laths.
To slay fair faces, who bartered leaden blasts,
And weapons because of their leopard casts.
Who inflicted lasting wounds upon the land,
Those who pursued the avian crowns stand.
Fetched to flatten fascinating flesh but failed,
Who still flies above "fallen Tomahawk," veiled?
From my awakened gaze, I view a world,
Across eyes that bear a black shade furled.
A confined space, restricted and stretched out,
Then I cast a velvety gaze over a dumb doubt.
In a shadowed visage, this is how I mumble,
These walls, built by oppression, must crumble.
I must quit as I gaze upon my unique form,
Through opened eyes, no longer blind corm.
And behold, my unique hands create,
The space exists within my mind spate.
Nonviolent activists avoid causing friction,
Path for discovery, not building any tension.
Yield your tension a flight and let it depart,
God will never strain you over skills to impart.
Stress is only a reaction, probe not to worry,
Oddness from bodies and beliefs is blurry.
Not all stress stems from having a lot to do,
It originates from a lack of follow-through.
The potential increases with increasing strain,
Growth comes with a sense of life's innate pain.
I'm feeling hollow, not due to any sorrow,
Yet, in a sense of relief, each knot fades hollow.
The most crucial factor in ensuring lifespan,
Is staying clear of tension, worry, and strain.
Life is not a rising conflict or a stressful scene,
Life ought not to be painful; it may be serene.
It's habits that induce tension and relaxation,
Cutting rituals and building useful tension.
Categories:
building, analogy, anger, mystery, time,
Form:
Rhyme
___ ~~ ___
home for me is in an
old building
that is quite drafty
with floors crooked
but it has huge rooms
that one seldom gets these days
oh, all the windows stick
but have flower window boxes
and there are some strange creaks
and groans in the quiet of night
still, I love my apartment
in this old building
for it is full of character
and I call it home
______________________
March 25, 2021
Poetry/Verse/this old building
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1341-547-25
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, All Yours (Mar 26)
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 03/26/2021
Categories:
building, home,
Form:
Verse
Death is no more than passing from one room into another. But there's a difference for me, you know. Because in that other room I shall be able to see. – Quote by Helen Keller
In the dawn of my existence,
Reaching through the quiet temptations,
Releasing the fears, the tears, the years…
Touching the moments with elation,
Lighting the nights with my star,
The one God gave me, to glow in my heart,
In the dawn of my existence,
I knew the warmth of sweetest love,
The beauty of peace and hope,
The music of faith that comforts the soul,
The wonder of grace that restores.
In the twilight of my living,
Memories, some beautiful – some distant,
Poured from my spirit, reflections, feelings,
Sentimental trails, traveled by feet,
Who journey through the dark, the fear, the night,
Some blessings, some doubts, some tenderness,
Some dread, some tones of grief,
Many struggles before I’m led to the finish line,
The end of all my strife.
In the twilight of my living,
Music plays, melodies in whispers,
Singing of wonders, faded blessings who remind me,
I have known the warmth of gentle hearts,
I have known the darkness that dissuades all hopes,
I have known what it is to love and to give –
Without expectations of receiving anything myself.
In the twilight, where I’m sensing,
The final days, the final prayers, the finality of all those years,
My mind echoes, in the expanse of time,
Trembling thoughts, small dreams and insights,
When He comes for me… as death takes my life,
Will I sense the wonderful that is to come,
Or will my fear silence that thrill?
The beautiful light who pours out the quiet…
As death sighs and I am no more,
Yet, in the end, I find…
I’m far more than I’ve ever been before!
Categories:
building, death,
Form:
Free verse