Best Gravel Poems
Once, I was trapped behind a dump truck.
It moved like a slug with black lung.
Belching God-awful noises.
Tossing gravel like a widower tosses tears...
Every time a piece struck my grill.
I'd winced like a stray dog cowering before a steel-toed world.
I said a little prayer for my 10-year-old car.
It was a long road, but it was finally over.
The belching ceased.
The devil truck was going one way; I was going the other.
A pretty sunset was underway...
The next morning, I checked for damage.
A few chips and some small scrapes.
I slowly straightened up.
The moment felt quite blessed.
And I smiled.
. . . sunlit drizzle down
gravelly road back to town
up there, rainbow crown . . .
One cool summer morning while running upon the gravel road
I listen as the birds happily chirp upon the branches
I imagine myself as a bird
I would fly high above the trees and soar carefree
I would then sit upon a branch with other birds and watch people labor
People are like honey bees constantly working never grasping the beauty around
On this cool summer day I was a bird and enjoyed the beauty of forest surrounding me
I sat upon a branch and noticed a little green centipede snack upon the soft green leaves attached to my branch
While soaring above the earth I felt the wind upon my wings and I felt the warmth of the sun upon my feathery back
However my happiness ended with the crunch of the gravel upon my shoes
I am human again, at the end of the gravel road
But once I was a bird…
Fiercely flipping his tiller tail
The king’s snout turns to point the way
To lead kin from a briny bay
Up a rustic roiling river
Of flowing falls, rough rocks, and banks
Lined with greeting eagles and bears
Set to embrace with beaks and jaws.
Traveling on a fasting diet
The royal salmon swims upstream
Seeking passage between the hills
To reach rippling crystalline rills
And fill an ancient deep-sea dream
To find its childhood gravel bed
On which at last to rest his head.
gravel
crunchy like carrots
except I like them
can't say the same for
what's
grating to shovel
grinding to rake
and there's over a ton
would've bought Thanksgiving
got that
you have your truck
get me some gravel
sure
why not
shoveling gravel
like putting up with a fussy baby
except I love the baby
hot sweaty tired dusty
arms shoulders back sore
feels good
gonna take
two loads more
spreading gravel
like spreading the love
except...
accident oil spill
dead fish wash up on seashore
kids build sandcastles
5/29/2018
We often say that no two oil spills are alike, but one thing spills have in common is that cleaning oil off of shorelines is a messy business. If a ship sinks or an oil pipeline ruptures, the primary goals of spill responders are to contain the oil source to stop any (more) oil from leaking and to prevent already spilled oil from spreading. However, weather conditions and ocean currents may overwhelm containment booms and other offshore oil spill response strategies. That means escaping oil may reach shorelines both near to and far from the initial oil spill location.The impact of the cleanup methods themselves as we assess the overall environmental impacts of any action.
cited page:
https://response.restoration.noaa.gov/about/media/how-do-oil-spills-get-cleaned-shore.html
Magicicada Poetry Contest
Sponsored By Maureen McGreavy
5/29/18
Time and Fate conspire
To indict my garden of gravel
Where my tears never run dry
To water the flowers of hell
That bloom in the silence of midnight.
I still want to do something for you
Out of my nihilty..
Oct 27, 2008
Thursday, we might have some rain;
that would be a treat again.
Need some moisture on the road;
too much and it will erode.
You don’t have to drive real far
before dust gets on the car.
Wife goes to the car wash soon.
Bad for me; for them a boon.
Why a wash is such a bust:
ere she’s home, car’s veiled in dust.
Benefit we have discussed:
covers up the dings and rust.
I walked barefoot across the gravel and I feel no pain
Souls have grown hard on tough terrain
Give me one more day and I will get you what you need
I don't fall victim to pride, lust or greed
On the Merry-Go-Round of life I just go around
All the same old places, yes I will haunt this town
You had a wild side too tough to tame
And when I walk across the gravel I don't feel the pain
This life is like a labyrinth and I can't get out
Been lost for so long that I don't have no doubt
Just give me till noon and I will get you what you need
It's hard to stop when you're gaining speed
On the ride of life I've rode too long
If you see me getting smaller than soon I will be gone
Thinking you were losing you flipped up the game
When I walk across the gravel I don't feel any pain
There's been many a moon since I've been born
I'm rough-around-the-edges, I'm tattered and torn
Give me one more hour, I will get you what you need
A place to set your bones and rest your feet
If we were all stars I would explode
My shoulders were not built to bare such a load
You never bothered to bare bit of blame
When I walk across the gravel I don't feel any pain
When I leave for work I take your picture off the wall
Why should you hang around when you don't even call
Give me another second and I'll get you what you need
A place to set your bones and rest your feet
When I get back at night you go back up on the wall
So I can look you in the eyes should you choose to call
You left me naked and crying in the rain
Walking barefoot across the gravel not feeling any pain
Their marriage has to be dissolved,
Nothing again to be resolved,
Twelve good years and problems unsolved,
Their priest had her of guilt absolved,
Mark who had thrice their problem solved,
Three is Lord God's Holy Number,
No case against her being sombre,
She'll stay right through the Judge's Gavel,
And then to Great Britain travel...
Joan: The Fed up with her Marriage,
Not planning to find the courage.
scattered rocks crackling under a 76
chevy truck, cumbersom rusty and dented.
scattered thoughts of a small child,
he peers out the window a pair of headlights
dance over shadows of trees and mudpuddles.
a harbinger of anger coming closer and closer
carried by steel and gravel how he hates the
sound of it.
dark hair and alcohol, violence and fear
are all called father to him.
you know he has an impediment they
say just listen to those unsequential
consonants and that dirty face.
dope and booze are waiting futher
down the road at the end on the left
hand second hand side..
Air aided in gravel’s travel
Its ricocheting rhythm
Rhythming like the crunch
Of an ocean
The steps of someone
The left and right side
Sway as incongruent tides
Whatever winds wind up
Within an earshot, it becomes
Tapped in our orbit
Wonders of the world all around
Wondering what it will be like
To be a cherished kind of sound
Gravel Roads
To me, America can be found
On calloused hands and gravel roads
Where weathered faces
See life through honest eyes
Laboring from sunrise
Until driven from the fields
By evening’s fading light
Walking from the fields
As the moon and stars illuminate the night
Peaceful and content
Knowing the world was right
Sore but satisfied
There was nothing left undone
At the end of this long day.
Up and down the gravel roads
The calloused hands still hold
The spirit that made this country strong.
yes i don't know
what pain hurts more
when the clouds themselves are cloudy
and the storm that triumphs
has the arrogance of insolence
when doubts assailed me
it was afternoon I smiled
happy with the majesty of my arrogance
there were no gaps in my thoughts
every lamp in the home shone what it knew
outside the fabric of the world grew soft
my way of cataloging these small victories
lending softness to the contours
but sometimes we find a stone
we are sure it is a gem
the jewel's glow anesthetizes our shields
and only when the gravel hurts our hand
we understand that the universe has lost its sunflower
The driveway’s made of gravel,
Preventing slips and skids,
But really, more important,
It’s a magnet for the kids.
They pluck the rocks and toss them,
The pebbles raining down,
Then line them up, creating
Highways in a mini-town.
They scoop them up and let them
Slowly trickle through their hands
And watching them, I realize
What each Nana understands –
The simplest items can provide
Imagination’s seeds.
Some freedom under loving eyes
Is what a grandchild needs.