Best Spade Poems
I'm truthful, whenever there's trouble.
So to call a spade, a spade, is just rubble!
Therefore, what I'm about to tell you,
is honest and true
I don't call it a spade - it's a shovel!
Pick and Spade
Written: By Tom Wright
8/8/2006
I often think of things so deep
I touch on things that induce sleep.
Stimulating thoughts once thought hidden
Resurface now that brain has bidden.
Happenings in life that weren’t too smart
But long since purged from an unclean heart.
Thoughts of valleys and on mountains steep
Some buried I shallow, some I interred deep.
All are happenings of some former day
Some brought rewards others made me pay.
Though I’m now found doing things Jesus bade
Seems Satan always finds a pick or spade.
“Give me the phone Effie.
I have to make a call.”
She handed it over to me
and walked into the hall.
The inspector had no clues.
He asked for my two cents,
asked me to give him my views.
I didn’t; the call was intense.
The dame had come in
asking for my advice
two days ago and then
was arrested by Vice.
I had seen the smallish
puncture, blood pooling,
and I wanted to abolish
the coroner’s ruling.
The wound was there,
but he missed the needle
lying next to the chair.
He tried to wheedle.
If I couldn’t get the cops
to do their job, I’d need
to pull out all stops
to find a hard lead.
For Gershon...with smiles
Inspired by, but not entered in, Natasha L Scragg’s Start Sleuthing Poetry Contest
some fellow the white coats call spade
perceived a great fortune be made
as a new day arose
drew great birds on his toes
escaping the white coats dismayed
Donald Trump is a man that calls a spade a spade.
He knows Hillary Clinton is a woman that has betrayed.
She has lied, covered up, and fabricated stories beyond belief,
Deleting 30,000 emails, then lying through her teeth.
Hilary Clinton has attacked Donald Trump’s personal character and life,
Bringing women out of the woodwork to lie, and even attacking his wife.
To Bill and Hillary Clinton nothing is sacred,
Bill even made a mockery of the Holy Oval Office, with sex and getting naked.
God above is looking down at the mess in the United States,
With Barack Obama and the Clintons trying to control this country’s fate.
Donald is right, under Obama and the Clintons, this country has gone straight to Hell.
The only thing that should await Hillary Clinton is a cell.
A sizable portion of my life
I've passed, slobbering over
The antagonistic ashes
Of an untruth.
Years down the road,
By accident, I exposed;
Though this untruth,
Was deeply entombed in my psyche,
Via a mental backhoe,
Satan periodically excavates it
Sans a spade.
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.
Call a spade a spade
Take no chance
Of intimidation
Except your right
dont mean nothing
To you
So when you are been
Moved around like
A sheep
Stand up for your
Self and
Call a spade a spade
Now lightly sweep the peppercorns in a harbour. No drama. But underground is not a gate nor a post for these are only really ever positioned on hallucinogenic coastal paths where time stands and the pattern ceaseless. Flowing. Great. It is often within hardship that the myth of the writhing cotton bud takes budgets to the ground with a swooping motion. Ejaculations from a sheeted field are never to be confused with a mouse's simple supper of cream crêpe. So skip then. Skip around. Jump up and taste that leaf. Before all is curdled in a gigantic jar of gold. Beast is best at breaststroke and in one solitary splash one can hammer on the web of woven time. Too much about fodder and not enough food. Happen upon a tree? Haha spinning an orbital melon around? Haha power position pointing plays ping pong. Xxxxx insecticidal Z z Z
Shiny Spade
A lantern, bright, shone lowly
Among the fearsome stars,
Where, beneath, we wandered
With fireflies in glass jars,
So much light to guide us
To the reddest vales of Mars,
Where the god of war did weep
On our bleeding battle scars.
Men did scream in the shadows
That loomed beyond our glance,
Between the fires of Hades
In which their souls would dance,
Raging like a fearless army
Of lunatics in a trance,
Marching to the skies and back
Before we could advance.
A lantern, dim, shone weary
Upon a bloodstained blade,
Glistening like our fireflies
As through the dark we'd wade,
We snuffed the burning cannons
Where many bodies laid,
And swapped our smoking rifles
For a prayer and shiny spade.
Straight from the heart,
Speak truly and frankly;
However coarse it may be,
Say it right with sincerity.
A rose by any other name
Still, has sweet fragrance;
But it spells a big difference
Between tango and disco dance.
Look me in the eyes,
Talk about gold and silver;
They shall eventually fade,
But diamonds are forever.
Saying I love you to someone
Requires a solid conviction;
Though it may sound sweet,
It may also end up in destruction.
In the name of greatest love,
There's no room for lies made;
The truth will set us all free,
Let's call a spade a spade.
The seeds of hatred, who has sown?
The winds of intolerance, who has blown?
The two deadliest snakes, so far unknown;
Like weeds in society, now they are grown.
Beware of these weapons aimed at you;
To your own self, you always try to be true.
Think not that things will change on their own;
Analyse the insults to which you are prone.
Accept not ever your defeat untried;
Let not slide a bit your personal pride.
Wage a war against every evil unafraid.
Is it a crime to call a spade a spade?
“Please, Sam stop!”
“Why? Stan, Nope”
“Yes, Sam Stop”
“And just mope?”
“Your shovel drop”
“You can’t cope?”
“Soon shall hop”
“Means: no hope!”
“Means: You Look”
“A wound-Gosh!”
“Marks just took”
“All for dosh…”
“Now, I bleed”
“The grave feed
“Bad Grave - sure
“And wage poor,”
“Me God save”
“Every slave”
Funny how some come to this land
smiling-humble and wide-eyed
attracted by the lady with the gentle flame in her hand.
Then while they build their fine homes
on a pricey piece of land.
They start listening to the dregs.
Blue cymbals start banging inside their heads.
They begin to dig a mind hole
Another spade of "woe is me" fills with dirt
Deeper into the mind hole they go.
Into the darkness of perceived oppression.
The wide eyes narrowing.
Not a hint of humility to be found.
Another spade slices deeper
stripes of anger and hate
replace that once smiling face.
They bark loudly about oppression from the pulpit of their fine homes
their vanity license plates and advanced degree
Mostly paid for by the working American man.
They cry about how everything is stacked against them.
There's a constant riot in their heads.
The mind hole deepens and widens.
A place where sunlight has no chance.
The real tragedy of it all
is that they hand the ungrateful spade over to their offspring.
when spade strikes stone
life pauses for a moment
sending sparks through bones
3/10/19