Best Scoop Up Poems
The hands of June will soon scoop up this earth.
Her palms will gently cup sunlight and rain.
The wind, her fertile breath, will warm the eves,
yet here I’ll wake to feel her blush in vain.
Without my love, each star-filled night turns black.
At dawn, the sunlight breaks to blind my path.
My ashen heart will char as summer flames,
and flowing blood will parch in aftermath.
I ‘ve often heard of death by broken heart.
It seems that winter’s chill could hasten this,
but this oppressive heat has fueled my pain.
A frozen heart turned numb might feel like bliss.
The summer sun has slouched, the moon has gone,
but somehow through my grief, I carry on.
Written 5/29/20 for JCB Burl’s
A World Without You Contest
No tears as we scoop up the moon,
zip up dirt statues that dance in the sky,
and pour out the sea of stars.
We laugh as we boil to pull closer the sun,
turn our night song into the whistle of a soothing wind,
and blanket mountain tops with snow.
We sip blueberry flowers as we clip birds to trees,
turtles to seas, and playful dogs to shoes;
then we lean in and candle the dawn.
No tears as we scoop up the moon,
snag the sun, and slice the sky.
No tears,
Unless,
As morning rain they fall.
The sun is out
The sky is blue
Hearts carved on a tree
Spell Me and You
We stroll by the water
Forget our cares
Summer's here now
To enjoy the fresh air
Smell the red peonies
Gorgeous pods on a stem
Pick a few, don't deny
The table its diadem
Scoop up some stones
Choose one smooth and flat
Skip it across the lake
and marvel at that...
As the sun works its way
Into the last gentle wave
The day's etched in memories
~ For Eternity to save
Confession
Author: Runping Chen
From the peak of soul
I carry a handful of clean soil;
From the rapids of life
I scoop up a ladle of clear water,
And mix them up together.
I searched and fetched the bricks of affection
To build up a kitchen range.
I burn my life as igniting the firewood
To heat the pot of faith
So as to stew leisurely
Gurgles of the poetic thinking,
In silence.
Rancid air fills the lungs
Causing blisters on the tongue
My mouth is burning from speaking
All injustices
Cancerous ways of thinking
Do they see what the world has become?
The Heavens are thick with money
No longer the symbol
of wealth itself
Canopies of greed
Descend upon me
Pay them the planet
A grain of sand is worth
More then a million dollars
The scent of a lotus
White and innocent
Cost more then
The car in the garage
No longer will children be able to dream of
Painted sunsets over violet mountains
Sunrises of brilliant orange
One cannot dream of what is only seen in pictures
There is damage that even tears may not wash away
I try to scoop up
Earth with a shovel and hide it
From hungry pockets
I try, I’m trying, I’ve tried
Alone
Save my world
Baby heal
My land
Please.
Skagway, Alaska in the late 1890s was sure a rowdy place alright!
It was seethin' with humanity a-raisin' hell all through the day and night!
'Twas the gateway to Chilkoot Pass beyond which lay Klondike gold!
Why! You could scoop up nuggets by the bushel, or so it was told!
Jefferson Randolph 'Soapy' Smith 'owned' the town and was so very brash.
He came up with nefarious schemes to relieve newcomers of their cash!
Madame Gertie arrived with her soiled doves and set up houses of ill repute.
Among the ladies were Ethel the Moose, Mollie Fewclothes and Maude the Mute!
Tinklin' pianos and screechin' fiddles played in saloons invitin' boozers in.
Hordes of horses whinnied, dogs howled and mules brayed addin' to the din!
The Home of Hooch, Red Onion and Mangy Dog saloons flung open their doors,
To sate the thirsty sots before they tried their luck at diggin' by the scores!
Hawkeye Blevins, notorious gambler, grabbed a table at the Hungry Pub Saloon,
And with slight of hand relieved many gullible rubes of their moolah all too soon!
Even preachers tossed aside Bibles and grabbed shovels to join the endless queue,
To foolishly struggle up Chilkoot Pass in the dead of winter with that motley crew!
A few hardy stampeders found their Eldorado but many more came to naught!
Death, disillusionment and starvation stymied the quest for which they sought.
Many a hapless feller lies beneath that frigid land never more to roam.
Infamous Soapy Smith lies at rest in Skagway Cemetery, there, his final home!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
I saw a bird on the side of the road the other day. I wondered if if was hit by an airplane way up high in the highest heights. I wondered if it became sick from the chemical engineering in the skies above my home here in Ohio. I wondered if the bird's own family missed it too. How can these little delicate creatures not feel love too?
I remember the verses that I read as a youngster of the LORD loving each and every bird in the sky and also knowing every hair upon my head. How could he care any less for that bird if He made it so magnificently? A miniature airplane with its own internal navigation system. Guided slightly by the magnetic poles within the planet. Birds are the most sacred of animals and yet how much more does our own Heavenly Father care for us?
I wanted to bend down and scoop up the little birdie with my own hands and give it a proper burial, but I hesitated. I hesitated because I knew that the LORD had a special plan for them too. It is all a part of His grand scheme. He will replace that bird and place another bird in the sky. He will breathe air into another precious bird and say with His ever-loving heart, "Now go and fly for Me!" Each and every bird is a precious creation of the Lord God Almighty. He cares so much for them. How much more does He care for us?
Gwendolen Rix
6-16-15
I sit here and i wonder , why i have my soul in my lap and this pen in my hand, i've earn my stripes they said, and the blood is not mine to keep, but as the rounds tumble to the ground i lose more and more of my self ,
i wake up to the sounds of automatic gun fire,this time ever so close, sweat drips from my body heavily, with only one choice , i move thru the rocket propelled venom that's spitting thru my walls, i hear there screams as i tumble this body into the night torwards there cries, evil breaks the sound barrier has it rockets passed my head into the crooked pictures on the wall, i arrive , there they are two children, in pure terror , screams you've never heard and never want to.
i can only take one ,reaching down, i scoop up a boy, he as well is drenched in sweat, tears ,snot, and drywall,
i exit the room crouched down i scream to my partner move! grab the girl!!
here arms are over her head covering it like the depleted uranium rounds wont pierce thru her skull as they pass thru the house , again another piece of venom passes by my head breaking the sound barrier , reminding me , i am all alone , i can not go back , i must move forward leaving them,
i run into the never ending darkness with a boy in my arms and his little hands grasp tightly around me, we run , stumble thru the darkness, to are savior , a porcelain bath tub we collapse inside and i pray for the machine gun fire to stop, screaming her name hoping to hear her voice still. i hear nothing .
i dont care if you like this poem ,story whatever you want to call it, and i dont care about spelling errors , or poets or poems, it was solely for my peace.
Here I sit on the beach's grey sand
as the sun begins to set.
Another day is complete...come what may.
The gentle sea breeze kisses my face,
as I pull my blanket around me snugly.
My hair dancing playfully.
I close my eyes and let my mind drift away,
as I hear the seagulls cry overhead
and the waves breaking in a hypnotic rhythm.
I scoop up hand fulls of dry sand
and let it slip through my fingers like granulated sugar.
Breathing in the fresh salty air,
I feel the suns warmth upon my face...
as all the days tension melts away.
It is one of those moments in time that shall be tucked away,
to be retrieved sometime in the future...
when my mind and body needs to escape
the stress of everyday life.
P.R.Deremer
From my window I see the dog walkers as they parade past
Leash in their left hand, poop bag held tightly in their right
All sizes, shapes and breeds, both owners and their dogs
Charges safely tethered on their leash, straining to be free
Anxious to check their pee-mail or send a message on its way
I see the walker poised, ready to scoop up each catch of the day
Quickly wrap it tightly and tuck the warm and squishy deposit
Firmly into their pocket before hurrying on their way
Hello folks, I am your loyal fork - but had to laugh
At a comment below' hard to find a loyal one nowadays',
Fish knives are smelly,
Many centuries ago, designed for the sharp edge,
To be away from your face,
So that your nose did not have to brace
Itself, and your mouth was prepared to swallow,
This unsavory taste,
And therefore there was no waste,
No fridges or coolers in those days,
Had to eat what was served, spices and herbs
helped in many ways!
The soup spoon, seems somewhat tubby,
And looks a little, as did mummy,
But ouch, she wouldn’t like that,
She was only just a little bit fat!
But you, the steak knife, who do most of the work,
As you cut through rump, sirloin, pork or fillet,
Your duties like a military man, you never do shirk,
You master all foods proudly, we, the rest of
The cutlery in the drawer salute you,
Deserving of your Officer’s rank,
And we always rally to your defense, and flank
Each side of the dinner plate,
In every continent, country or state.
But who is the flirty one in the cutlery drawer
Why, the dessert spoon of course,
Used puuuurfectly seductively,
To scoop up deserts,
I, says the dessert spoon, make men drool,
As I lift my self erotically, to my mistress’s mouth,
Leaving some ice cream on me, which
She licks with her tongue, I assist her mischievous
Acts of eating with me,
As I enjoy the electric sensual romantic mood,
I’m no bodies fool!
Hey what about me, said the butter knife, as I slip
And slide through butter, and spread this indulgence
With lots of calories and love on your bread,
And of course dear little tea spoon,
Who stirs sugar and milk in your coffee or tea,
Don’t forget me!
So this dilemma as to who is the most
Important in the cutlery drawer,
Is easily solved
All eating utensils are equally involved.
At the water’s edge I stood.
Oh my heart was invigorated to see the soft ripples in the water.
There was a warm breeze that also moved my hair.
I felt the Lord’s presence all around me.
I took my tiny balsa wood sailboat and set it in the water.
The gentle wind and the current said a hushed goodbye.
Off across the pond my tiny sailboat went-
As though Christopher Columbus had nothing on him.
It worked so hard to reach what it felt was the open seas.
It was jostled around in the water and it spun about a few times too.
A giant Irish Setter approached it on the other side of the pond.
Licking his chops to pounce upon my precious sailboat.
He had plans of ruining my blessed voyage and sink my mighty vessel.
The Lord had plans of His own too.
A gentle breeze came around and briskly turned my boat around.
My heart raced with anticipation.
I wanted to jump in the pond and scoop up my precious sailboat.
The Lord said to my heart, “No child. This voyage is under my control.”
“I am the anchor. I am the mast. I am the owner of the wind. I will bring your
sailboat back home to you in my perfect timing.”
Then I felt the first drops of rain.
Rhythmically dancing across the surface of the water the rain came down around
my little sailboat.
It propelled my mighty vessel back into my hands.
Oh my heart jumped for joy as I had learned the most important lesson that day!
I learned that once I begin a journey with my Lord and I allow him to steer my
ship that he will always get my boat back to the harbor.
I also learned that what appears to be a storm on the horizon can by the catalyst
to bring my vessel home.
Amen.
Thank you Lord for seeing me through everything.
I am just a big kid on the most incredible journey!
Gwendolen Rix
12-28-14
( a short story for my best friend).
Moon Spoons
We dive into each other with love from highest peaks of the mountain
quench our thirst with no parachute needed as we drink from the fountain
in free fall we enter the kingdom and queendom of passionate devotion
no hidden agenda self-righteousness gone just poetry and poets in motion
In words and all touch of the senses we scribe on intermingling tapestry
we dangle in suspense and fulfilment like chocolate milky stars in a galaxy
of kindness compassion held by emotion’s gravity solar powered and moon
when we met you promised to fetch it if you possibly could with a spoon
I replied that we would knit and harvest scoop up our journey together
catch dreams rainbows reality strong like a castle and light as a feather
two butterflies mating our soul mind body stellar constellation narration
scribing our infinite story of fairy tale attraction love smith’s pollination
Joined at hippy hips mind feeling flowering bodies and soul’s contemplation
we float further and further like purposive driftwood in tidal association
are all always and all ways reciprocate cupid’s arrows and fluttering hearts
sift through sediments previous losses chart thunder and light for a new start
Your rhyme and your rhythm convulses gently with my meter muse lute
the soft touches of skin on sugar coated layers of consciousness funnels flute
crevice and harbour safe havens hot lover’s lava fired in loving embraces
cuddle share solace transcend into tender time peaked pinnacle’s places
Words alone can never by a mile explain what it means to have you by my side
my lover soul mate best friend and pleasure’s companion day and all night
when we were in our darkest torrents devastation and it felt like a monsoon
we simply fell into love with each other full spoons ahead and into the moon
20th September 2016
I like to think all my memories are floating…some separate…some combined…
in an every-deepening ocean…somewhere in the recesses of my mind.
Sometimes as I walk along the shore when sparked by a feel, a taste, a smell…or something I might see…a memory will ride a wave and splash all over me.
Sometimes I scoop up a handful of memories…just to quench my thirst….
Sometimes I’ll wade in slowly…other times…head first.
Yesterday while driving our two eldest grandson’s to the airport…
(they’re off to visit their Texas family)
once we set out on the road…a wave splashed over me.
It was the four of us one summer in North Carolina when they visited for a couple weeks…to spend some time with Deborah and I…
and enjoy those Blue Ridge Mountain peaks.
MC Hammer’s song ‘U Can’t Touch This’ was big that summer…this was the first wave to him by chance…I remember the four of us turning up the volume as around the house we danced.
And here is one of the benefits of having an ocean of memories that over the years are allowed to float free….because in my memory I’m a much better dancer than I am in reality.
Another benefit of having an ocean of memories is how other memories follow that first wave and always make me smile…
as I found myself, while driving, also swimming in them for a while.
We said goodbye to our grandsons at the airport…
hoping they’ll have memories to add to their oceans…
memories they’ll never forget…
for me the drive back home was a pleasant one…
you see…I hadn’t finished swimming yet.
Soaring into the air,
strafing the clear blue skies
traversing land and moutains high,
the eagle flies, a bird of awesome size.
It's wings, huge bellows trapping air,
send tiny creatures into spasms with fear.
Stooping low, talons drawn
scoop up unsuspecting prey
an innocent hare out to play
then lays its find in a nest on high
food for another day.
Birds in the air tremble and roll
at the flap of its mighty wings
that slice through currents of air,
a powerful force on course
to a distant shore.
Silent like the wind that blows,
the clouds that float,
it sweeps the highs and lows
a haughtier bird we'll never know
nor witness allure so rare.
With feathers of winking gems, illusive hues
teased by playful rays of the sun,
It streaks accross oceans deep
turning waves into defensive ones
that hope the eagle will not stay
but continue on its merry way.
Despite it all, man can only
stand in awe, so rare,so wondrous a sight.
With oohs and ahhs he stands agape,
transfixed by a beauty untold
yet remembers too the sayings of old
All that glitters...is not gold.