Best Dug Poems
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Deeper and deeper
I dug
through that parched
earth
for her
yes for her
And what did I exhume
disinter
Gold
Gold
yes gold
Yes hun
I’ve just found it
your other gold post
Pines release their yellow pollen
Gold coats all surfaces
Unaware of the freshly grave dug
Sadness family faces
A lovely spring day for some gathered
Rain clouds for others there
Standing side by side each person
Of emotions unaware
Yellow swallowtail butterfly
Floats 'pon spring's breeze
A pleasant surprise on this day
Graces the grave with ease
New life expressed through its soft flight
Yellow, bright, and sunny
Much like the deceased's pleasant life
She lived quiet and homey
a Rondine
There are lessons here, in the Gold Rush mine –
a hazard. Might a child fall down the pit?
not in search of gold or the bad airs that sit
in shut-off places, quartz vein crystal-shine
too dim to show a way. These walls confine
the lungs, they say, the heart. But this is it:
there are lessons here
we need to learn, even the child of nine
about to inherit, to somehow fit
onto his earth, right the old wrongs, remit
our debts; to see the intricate design.
There are lessons here.
This little guy in white is tunneling around the place.
He is aware of the many dangers he will face.
There are pookas and fygars situated all around.
Those adversaries can sneak themselves right through the ground.
He gets more points by dropping rocks on their head.
If not, he can inflate them until they burst instead.
Throughout the game, he must stay one step ahead.
Those nasty little creatures would like to see him dead.
Dig dug gets treats after dropping rock number two.
In the middle of the ground, bonuses appear when due.
From a carrot to a pineapple is what he can get.
As many as eight thousand points this digger may net.
The dragon-like fygars pose an extra threat to this guy.
The ability to spit fire is something we can’t deny.
Our hero gets more points when he is deeper in the ground.
I don’t think a better video game can be found.
MENTAL INSTITUTIONS SHOULD PLANT FLOWERS TO PASS THE HOURS
Dead daisies,
deceased dandelions
torched tulips birthed to be torn and tragically tormented
And those daisies and dandelions died due to being deemed demented
Maples were made miserable,
evergreens were ever sad,
and fir trees were forced to become forlorn
Those evergreens and firs were sorrowful for all of them having been born
Morning glories are in mourning,
daffodils are decaying and decrying the dawning
and chrysanthemums were cruelly created to cry
lovely lilies were living a life to lament
As violets vied with violence,
and roses were required to repent
Forget-me-nots were forgotten,
hydrangeas weren’t high on danger
as junipers jousted with an unjust June
Lilacs lied,
petunias pouted
while marigolds were made mad due to the
moon
The sage were relegated to rage,
as a carnation prayed for an alternate incarnation
and the wisteria suffered hysteria because of insipid information
The iris had a virus
Chrysanthemums went crazy
Marigolds went mad
While wisteria went wild
And for this garden’s ailments there is no sensible solution
Except to send all the plants and trees to an orna-mental institution
© 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREEE …..~free cee!~
When I Dug Down Deep
Many awkward sounds I have heard
Broke down each one into an actual word
Turned it into a poem from what she said
And now she wishes I would drop dead.
Each poem did have a disastrous effect
And to start new hobby had to elect
No longer will I wrote poems anymore
I'm now a great clerk in a grocery store.
Many stories were weird I heard there
So I quite and return did not dare
Now that I found my wife fast asleep
Wrote more poems when I dug down deep.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
The undulating pine trees
try not to weep as they really should;
they hold the tiny, slowly falling raindrops,
sensing the mortality that turns him cold
without a sob, without tears,
and standing a few steps
from his dug up grave:
he expresses much sorrow
for himself, for the agonies that'll follow...
accepting such an irreversible fate!
Thereby, his bones without flesh,
will rest peacefully and forget death;
long is their wait...showing no haste!
" Oh, wait...hopeless one, don't rush your final day,
compromise for more time instead; frighten not:
no burning incense is placed on the marble tray,
no flowers are bought, neither is the casket! "
That's the ghostly voice shuddering him,
and from which nearby grave it came from?
Is it an angelic one suggesting a sigh of glee,
or a demonic one asking for some hefty fee?
What a thrill is to be given more serene days;
and what a pity is not to heed a life-saving advice!
He's turning around to continue this journey twice;
he'll embrace his dear ones who started to grieve and tell them
about his brief encounter with death beneath the droopy helm;
hasn't celestial favor spared him from the agony of a dark realm?
My grave is somewhere dug
Yet, I know not where
But, when I cannot see one foot
I know it's there
And I stumble
Not befallen or from grace
From thus a problem or perhaps mistake
As a result of choice I did not face
Now another must surely make
Shall I crumble, further unto darken place
Or humble, step right up
And change my ways
Then, I'll take my life
Beyond the wrought of iron gates
And into piece of mind
Away from grip of fates
My grave is somewhere dug
Yet, I know not where
But, when I can see both feet
I know it's yet, to be complete
An unfettered tongue
Wags out words
No one wants to hear
Entered in Magicicada13 words to live by
Sponsor: Maureen McGreavy
i dug a hole and found no hugs
i can only imagine
what i can't see
like that albatross
that you have in your cage
the one that befriended
your body
infiltrated your soul
to have his way with you
... and now you're miserable
what can i do
I've staked my claim
respectfully
i asked for coffee
a simple gesture
connie pachecho
4/7/17
(Dedicated to Heath Ledger who died January 22, 2008.)
You starred as the Joker but your death was no joke.
Millions of your fans now have hearts that are broke.
Your grave was slowly being dug.
You died because you took drugs.
Lots of people enjoyed seeing you in 10 things I hate about you.
Your death was traumatic but it shows kids what drugs can do.
12/23/20
Been one heck of a year and some month
Recently got a buzz cut
I'm buzzed yup
I was down and I was up
No longer such a young buck
Always f***ed up
What a f*** up
Shut up
And hush up
Pettiness continually being dug up
I'll take you out barehanded, or with num-chuks
Try to confront me and puff up
But quickly got roughed up
And scuffed up
Shut the f*** up
I don't ever need any thumbs up
You either did or didn't have enough guts
Fell down stayed there or was able to jump up
Before the towel was hung up
It was splattered about like bug guts
Spread amongst us
Always trying to instruct us
Yet so quick to confront us
Never been or plan on going for a duck hunt
Can't say the same for so and so, or such and such
Call it dumb luck
Often I lucked up
And was able to one up
The other half of the time, it was tough luck
Too many people being a suck up
Stuck up and a dumb f***
As they continue to bluff much
My eyes stuck shut
Occasionally over did it, but rarely ever would up chuck
Why must
They remind us
That eventually our time's up
If you deserve it, my trust you earned it
I'll tell you what's up
And what's what
From here to beyond Lubbock
Always working towards getting the funds up
Not quitting when the moons out or when the suns up
Saw it or did not see the gun tucked
Because they've had enough of
A world that is f***ed up
In the past a lot of shrubs and brush cut
Once in awhile the job required a lug nut
Fathom, that some people are still living in a mud hut
Having nearly nothing, except for just one cup
The sun- a burden on their backs.
Beads of sweat wetting the dry earth,
Dirt lining the whites of fingernails,
Shovels hitting rocks and roots.
Frustration arising when another day without success
Would pass.
Tears wiped with sodden sleeves
Invoking the question:
“Will anyone even remember me?”
Fair to wrinkled skin,
Hair from brown to white.
The water emerges from the ground.
The sweet relief finally found
And the dream that children could
Run to and drink of the refreshment
Allows their hearts to rest.
There were giant toads in that time
and small descendants of monsters.
Limbs scuttled and leapt,
Thorns and fangs
began to flower
as winged,
but yet brainless insects
fed through straws in their
bulbous heads.
The glory of the frangipani
arose brightly
in a steaming morass.
Green became a color,
rainbows arched over living volcanoes.
These early times
had not any moments
but only a flood of blood,
a flow and pulse.
A simple deadly song
that lingers on
even unto now.
Mind-Cracking, Health-Crushing Hard Drug
Whose taker has his own grave dug:
For all the sad life’s holes it does plug,
Any helping dosing down on rug,
As though a shooter did one slug
Or a dirty criminal one mug.
A time to up a staircase lug
The Hopelessly Suicidal on drug;
To all the questions by a medic a shrug:
No deliverance from his medical jug!
What things in life disturbingly bug
That we can’t The Just Sensible hug;
Drug isn’t by a little the abnormal,
The taker often a Writhing Animal!
A balderdash making a previous “it is well”,
As he continues to wrestle with New Hell.