Best Shovels Poems
This banyan tree on the wayside pasture
boughs cradling the nests secure
the birds of blue return,
verdant foliage making shade serene
the scorched travelers rest awhile,
the tree revels in pride.
The winds of harsh time take the toll
gaping trunk wrenches the soul,
defoliated, the skeleton stands stripped.
The birds don’t return,
the travelers pass by,
in sorrow the shadowless tree tracks the setting sun.
Until the storm comes
lays the tree on the ground it stood so long firm,
shovels scrape the soil, fills the void,
buries the last remains of its roots.
In the twilight hours of loneliness
as I see dark clouds gather on the horizon
the sound of scraping of shovels
returns to me louder and louder
from the empty pasture
where the banyan tree once was,
and I wait for the storm.
March 7, 2019
Sparks flew
The earth moved
And I knew
Your love was going to bury me
March 2nd, 2019
cars sound the alarm
autumn delivers it's storm
night time is shattered
window faces watch
our world of broken branches
wheelie-bins gone rogue
when tomorrow comes
boys will collect their conkers
grown men their shovels
Each of them had one
A golden shovel
To sweep away the detritus
Of life’s lingering keepsakes
Scratching the gold-plated spears
Dodging deaths deadline
Struggling to be remembered
Ecologically egotistical entrepreneurs
Pictures, suitable for framing
Polished, souvenir hard hats
Sign waving sycophants
Applauding the arrogance
Of progressive platitudes.
An old woman weeps
The shadow of her home gone
The echoes of her life fading
A Teddy bear lays crushed
Beneath an unseen future.
There is a loud sharp scraping of shovels,
digging another grave;
this a daily event in the graveyard,
oh, death comes like a wave.
When our life time has finished we must leave,
and beloved must grieve.
We cannot hold back the shovels scraping,
and cannot hold back death;
for our time left is ever an hourglass,
yes, until our last breath.
Listen to my words and live for each day,
even when you feel gray.
No matter how much pain dwells within you,
find happiness and joy;
never become the person that you hate,
don't let revenge destroy.
Be strong and be a finer example,
just be the best sample.
Let go of the graveyard scene and of time,
find things you love to do;
collect friends like flowers in a bouquet,
even if just a few.
Live your life without dread and gloom looming,
and all joy consuming.
______________________________
March 8, 2019
Poetry/Rhyme/Time and Scraping Shovels
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1122-160-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Wind blows ashes all around,
as men toil – bent over at an arduous task.
In the place where a scraping of shovels incises the coming night,
their blades incise cold and black encrusted ground.
Attached to the shovels' handles
are arms which are skeletons,
and the arms belong to bruised, decrepit bodies.
Hacking and wheezing, the men continue smiting the earth -
plunging the shovels down, lifting them up with dirt,
and tossing the dirt to the side.
Plunging, lifting, tossing dirt – again and again and again.
The men are so frail they barely can continue,
but with the armed guards watching on,
they dare not falter and come to a stop.
Coming from the gloom are shrieks,
and then comes that all too-familar stench
after the shrieks have died out.
It permeates the air and seeps into their nostrils,
and still they toil at the trench.
They struggle on beneath a sky which for a long time now
has withheld from them its light,
and the light of hope is but a dream
that perhaps crosses their minds from time to time.
Perhaps in their dreams at night
as they lie on crude and uncomfortable "beds,"
they imagine they are digging tunnels -
tunnels which will lead them away from all this misery,
but their misery is a nightmare from which they can’t awake.
What horror in their knowing that their own bodies
might one day soon be lying too
in these graves they dig.
A man once knelt beside a mirrored pool,
stared into the eyes of a faithless fool.
An empty soul who made a devil's pact,
to turn away from truth in search of fact.
With no light to shine on this troubled trail,
he then became lost, then slipped and fell.
Leaving all he knew for a promised lie,
he lived in darkness til the day he died.
Now all alone deep in his earthly tomb,
he ponders his choice of eternal doom.
He is kept awake from his peaceful sleep,
by the mournful hymns while the widows weep.
Sometimes he hears the sound of shovels scrape,
he knows another fool has sealed their fate.
3/10/19
Like so many times when us youngsters reigned
We got up to so much that we forgot to refrain
Instances, confrontations, non immaculate we be
C'mon, c'mon, come at us you'll soon see
Then it went tit's up as we now look back and tell
Bravado at the time, drinks, drinks, we're swell
High fives abounded, knowing we'd rid the scum
It's now the morning, reflecting, how we'd become
It was his bullying Officer, bullying, all down to such
Each and everyone of us, drunk out of touch
We'd had enough, he'd pushed us to our tether
In panic worried union, we'd suggested together
To a peaty marshy headland, headlights our guide
No thought to he's now lost, to no longer reside
Us, a scraping of shovels, as cowardly tears fall
All down to bravado, whilst the worried still call
Written 02/03/2019.
Sevens, Shovels, and Spades
Dig, dig, dig. Black soil and stone
Earth worms wiggle , Decay bones
Dig, dig, dig, scatter seeds there
Sprouting, searching sun and air
Dig, dig, dig, To hide our dead
Six feet under, body bed
Dig, dig, dig, create new life
Born of earth, Feed appetites
Dig, dig, dig, Shovel and Spade
Flowers grow from planted pain
Dig, dig, dig, Work never done
Then I see that I'm the one
Dig, dig, dig , out of this hole
Skin so pale and Icy cold
Dig, dig, dig. Deep down inside
Reveal secrets graveyards hide.
A SCRAPING OF SHOVELS--
A duel of occupations;
Farming or construction;
2 metal clad tools of uncovering';
Clang N clang, touch rub N bang;
Scape-scape, dig-dig on dirt, sand, gravel and rocks;
A scraping of shovels;
Excavation in construction;
Mechanization via steam shovels;
And later hydraulic equipment;
Hand shoveling dirt onto metal covers;
A scraping of shovels;
Connection tween shoulder blades and digging blades;
That the words also means spatula and spade;
Touch me, touch me metal or bones rocks and gravel;
Rubbing together like a scraping of shovels;
Spades lack triangular points;
But are fairly narrow rub and touch;
Dirt and metal, sand rock and gravel;
"spade" and "scoop” a doop dig a hole;
Coal shovel scooping a scraping of shovels
A snow shovel shoveling snow, a scraping of shovels;
A wide aluminum blade that is attachment;
With a short hardwood handle with "D" top;
A shovel called a barn or grain shovel;
Used for grain" spade" and "scoop” grab and hold;
Rubbing together like a scraping of shovels;
3/3/19
A SCRAPING OF SHOVELS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by:John lawless
It is a sanctuary of stillness here
muted sounds of nature prevail
a rustle of leaves, a scurrying of rodents
flutterings of birds flying and chirping.
Peaceful it may seem, and yet...
I have dwelt here, uneasily, year after year
hard pressed to escape my confinement
tormented by nightmares
tragedy without resolution.
A new day dawns, much like any other
I become aware of strange, new sounds
sounds I have not heard for a long while
a scraping of shovels, scraping, digging
digging and scraping up dirt full of hope.
I tremble in anticipation for this moment
this moment I have dreamt about
in my eternal sleep..could this truly be
the day of my release?
Oh Lord, I can see the sunlight now
for at long last, I have been found
justice has finally prevailed
today...I have been set free!
Written on 3/6/2019
Scooping up my pain with these shovels as I try to write,
embracing all I lost in a life I never knew I deserved.
Keeping forgiveness and empathy in my clear sight,
and trying to remember all the love I have reserved.
I was scraping these shovels and they quickly swerved,
so, I take the dustpan and try to make things right.
Should I excavate the anguish and forget the pain?
Maybe the torment will cease and I will be free.
I could only hope that the happy memories remain
allowing this woman to be no one else except me.
The scraping of these shovels has made me see clearly.
The chafing and attrition have taken my life in vain.
The metal on the cement gives me relief, yet fear.
It screeches and moans the emotions I never knew
I’d feel when I looked at the world in a shattered mirror.
Believe me when I say the scratching is so true
as I live a life of abrasion with my construction crew-
explaining the scraping sound to all who will hear.
March 10, 2019
John Lawless
The Scraping of Shovels
If it weren't for you
I'd still be scraping the shovels
On land hinged by drought
Digging for achromatic memories
Beneath phlegmatic coarse woody debris
At trackless fields of feelings
In tenacious grip of my fingers
I would be scraping gravels from dessicated plains
Each path winding to you through echor
Would have lost existence
Left untrodden for eons
In limerance of your enigmatic charm
Bolstering labyrinth of emotions
Would have looked down upon
Lacerations on my vulnerable heart
To unearth dormant seed of your presence
To lighten pebbles and dried mud
And moisten it with my tearful soul
09/03/2019
Old, weary, sad
Wracked with pain and sorrow
He wrapped the night around him like a cloak
Long had he waited for this eventide
And he had earned it, giving all to family and work.
The wind came up and carried in the sea mist off the fjords
He pressed his cheek against it
The briny smells awakening memories of years at sail
Long days and nights atop the mast
Swaying the crow's nest like the hands of a clock
Ticking away his life in maritime duties ... and damp bones.
Lubbing land now, and ready for his last voyage
Deep in the sea of soil, to rest.
The winds slowly died, mists turning to fog ...
He was ready, and could see the reaper atop yonder hill, coming
He sat down upon the dank ground to wait
The night now still as death ...
Save for the scraping ... of shovels.
Shovels' scraping shows work well done
Keep it up! Congratulations!!!
Service to God is number one
Yielding fruits of commendations.
With the Lord's strength as girding might
Shovels' scraping shows work well done
Radiating life-building's bright light
Exemplified by God's great Son.
Designed perfection had begun
Masterpiece upon faith-venture
Shovels' scraping shows work well done
Thru divine nature and nurture.
Model of utmost excellence
Paragon's best for everyone
Labourers' diligent silence
Shovels' scraping shows work well done*.
*Matthew 25:21 His lord said unto him, Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
March 12, 2019