Best Quarried Poems

The fallen sons slipped off Creation’s lens.
To taste the sting from our own tree and fruit.
Their giants quarried till no place to stand.
Before these day’s deceiving shades of gray,
The prophet’s shutters opened wide to write.
Foretold of hate in focus driving nails.
Our Pilate’s wash in Silver...

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Beneath the graffiti littered by the years
and the fatigue signed by a thousand cares
Through the scratchings of so many tears
that were summoned or caught you unawares
Under the mottles by done days quarried   
and the shadows writ by a jealous sun  
where disappointments...

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Michelangelo’s David

Extol the grace of mortal man
fashioned by Buonarroti’s hands.
What priceless handsome figure made,
the youthful David, bold and brave.
A statue of a human form,
anatomized, perfectly norm.
Giant, quarried, pure white stone,
shaped in fashioned style of Rome.
Standing, heroic, nude male,
ready to take on huge assail.
Pure wisdom and...

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Quarried,  and carved from our earthen mother's skeletal
Backbone and under belly, were the Moai solid rock deities,
Stone guardians of Easter Island.
A mystical place, a harvested paradise, but nothing remains
Of the people whom built this land of living statues, except
For these harden faces, looking towards...

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This morning I went for a country stroll
Saw greenery of summer at its best
But off road walking had taken its toll
So the next stop was an Inn for a rest .

Ploughman's I ordered with a pint of beer
I took a seat and watched folk come...

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Then, he knew why he must hew
old memories from marble- 
emotions quarried from heart's slew- 
Oblique fight with his faith's garble

Cut block unfolds Christ, enthroned
on mother's lap- death sleep supine...
Sculptor's concepts cast in stone,
art wrestles with thoughts divine.

And sorrow, stilled in her young face,
speaks truth...

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Open Closed





 Open letter addressed by me to myself as  

               as though I am in any way complicit in my 

        ...

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There is a body stronger than the flesh alone
it is the body of your love, that temple built of desire's stone
quarried from the chaos of your erotic emotions, shaped by destiny's moan,
where neurotic nerves, psychotic passions, fanatical faith and romantic rose chrome
are imported from the...

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Copper blooms, titanium too below the iron of the sky
Rich fields of ore, quarried, lay everywhere without a quarrel
In conjunction with all things shiny on the land and rust of day

Mountains pinnacles are miles high
With gold draped cliffs of drifting yellow beads of brass

Green vegetation...

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Atop old Penistone 

From bumpy stony track to peak the summit
No ledges, drops from which to plummet
A quarried mound that boasts sweet heather 
Loyal and strong despite the weather

The climb to top, a meagre stroll
But views abound, sights to extol
Bilberries aplenty on summer day
Rich pickings...

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waterside vigil
buffalo nears water hole
lions crouch low nearby

three-pronged ambuscade
buffalo calf culled from herd
swift pincer attack

quarried prey springs forth
stressed calf serpentines about
lead lion cuts angle

driven toward snare
flanks assaulted from both sides
vise tightened prey clasped...

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The old ruin sat near the brow of the hill
it had been there for centuries forgotten
none now knew for what purpose it had been used
not even the elders who had many suggestions

A not unattractive looking building of stone
and that in it's self only added to...

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I  tried to tie, I said, I said,
some rocks to billowed clouds.
In this I was a fool, a chump!
For rocks, as is both well allowed
and widely wist,
pass always through these vapor stumps,
and gathered mists,
and won't be bound with lumps.
So all I’ve really done is...

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OF THEE I WING

Certain people claim that I am free
Ain’t that a god damned gas?
I assure you that being as un-free as me
Is a predominate pain in the a*s

It ain’t right
Restricting my flight
And I’ll tell you who I hold responsible for having grounded my wings
I...

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Long travelled 
am I,
amongst words
that have sailed
in and out of months
beyond the horizon
of years and age.
Set down
and scrolled out
in lexical identity
on parchment stane
quarried and carried
in the soft strom
of half light.

Earlier
I gave
a cursory nod
to the old man,
I had not considered then
that his solitary stature
would guide so...

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