Best Unearthing Poems
Silent journey
I ride with you O Mother Earth
On the wings of time and space
I feel you cradle me in your arms
Lifting me high above you
To feel the kiss of your wind
..... and the warmth of your sun
A flicker of light and I am
Surfing the tips of your waves
Salty mist fills my nose
My eyelashes sticky with moisture
My heart wide open
Oh joy !
To glide up and down
On your surging tide
To undulate with the motion
Of your sea
To feel the movement of the
Magical water beings below me
Sunlight follows me
Illuminating the foam before me
Twinkling glitter radiating
Centuries of adventure and passion
Lust and loss spread out before me
Ancient battles
Sunken ships
Lost treasures and dreams lay
Below me in the darkened depths
Remembering your light within my heart
A child of eight
Knowing you Mother Earth
Digging in your soil
Smelling the damp dirt
Grasping handfuls
Unearthing small treasures of
Colored glass and painted pottery
Glancing upwards towards the sky
Filled with puffy white cloud dreams
Knowing your spirit and soul
Feeling you entwined with me
In the heavens and stars
Finding you in unexpected ways
Climbing the highest trees
Grasping at thick branches
Hoisting myself up
Beams of light piercing through
Shadows beckoning me higher
My t-shirt soaked with
excited sweat and purpose
Flying my dime-store kite
Out of my bedroom window
Wind taking it up so far
Up.... up...up
Appearing as a migratory bird
Making its way home
Dissolving into a small speck
Until I could see it no more
Painful grooves biting into my fingers
Cutting her loose
She’s free to fly home now
Transcending time
A silent whisper
Imperceptible movement
Pushing upward
Through fertile earth
I slowly unfurl my cloak of greenery
Stretching out my arms
Raising my head upward
I see the beauty of my form
A new seedling with furry lime tendrils
A baby plant on the carpet of the forest
Glancing upward I see my self surrounded
Sacred towering redwood giants gaze down upon me
As sunlight music tickles my soul
Susan Lawrence
Copyright 2021
It was deep dark, silence roaming outside
if I couldn't see and hear, it is myself to chide
the urge within pushed my fright aside
time to open the gates of my soul wide.
My journeys I used to have on my own
seeking sheer thrill in my serene zone
for what I painfully miss, I strive to atone
thriving when every ounce in me is full and grown.
The lure of a wonder seized my powers
breaking through my walls and towers
an ocean unearthing my grain and flowers
weeding out what is in my soil ugly and sour.
What reached my soul was so profound, so austere
it is beyond my feel, something I awe and fear
the mysteries in books were to me so clear
and in life, through deep darkness unable to steer.
To raw Nature I carried my tribulation
along with a torturing silence and lamentation
seeking spiritual guidance and revelation
Almighty God, help me not to succumb to temptation!
And here I am, with my words touching my solid earth
carving a clear voice of woe and mirth
aspiring to feed an inner sense of worth
as an avid reader accords my poetry a rebirth.
Heart Release
Oh how I have tried to push you away
......Fear
Escaping into daydreams and fantasy
Purposeful intentions and made-up agendas
Pretending you were unimportant
Something to avoid
Chocolate chip cookies and Chardonnay
Softened your advance
Pushing you down
Your effervescence rising from the depths
Clinging to me like morning mist on the seashore
Oh how I long to know you
Almighty Fear
Come to me
Dance with the molecules of my soul
Become me
For we share one breath
Let me embrace you
Jump into my arms
My child
Let me caress your intention
For lifetimes I have sought
To push you away
Not recognizing or being ready
For the messages you deliver
My heart is open now
My ego silent
I welcome your arrival
I grasp your hand
I swim in your torrent
Twisting and turning
Making my way
I allow upheaval
Grief and tears
Unlocking buried treasures
Unearthing promise
Welcoming rebirth
I feel you beckon me onward
Traveling with you to Astral planes
Far beyond this Universe
Through darkness and mist
Witnessing the outer glow
Of dying stars
Flickering flames reinvented
Into birthing baby seeds
Cocoons of life opening
New forms spring into
Consciousness
White yellow glow
Fluttering velvet softness tickles the air
My senses alive
You have become my partner
I encircle you now old friend
You inhabit my soul
Riding this wave of life
Grateful for you
Fear
Of the many stars I have seen,
Justin, you are by far the most exquisite
I love how you just mold into my heart,
Sifting the words we share part by part,
Lighting the path to inspiration,
Attaining your lightning connotation
I love how you relate to my struggles,
Allowing my feet to rest on your gentle wings,
How your loving eyes look in-between the lines,
To see inside such poetry, the divine intertwine
You do not waste your time in the sky,
Rising every moment in your heightening knowledge
You burn brighter for what matters
You hold tighter to the light with gladness,
And you are not afraid in the prowling wilderness
You are never afraid to express your genius
Long ago, I had wandered in the haze of many a soul
Closed and withdrawn in the strolls of dark foes
In your luminous presence, you awakened this dreamer
My eyes widening in the unity of word-weavers
To access your bloom was to shatter all doom
And in awe, I aspired to be a part of you
I love that you care of my virtues,
How you give and give tremendously
How we understand each other in synchronizing energy out of this world
I love that you will feel my heart, as I do yours
I will love these truths forevermore
A tribute to this burning star is never enough
You have inspired me beyond what I can see
Beyond what dreams a dreamer be
And for that, I must thank you,
As you persevere in your incomparable brightness
To illuminate my path, and our paths,
Into the extraordinary, eternal unearthing of fate, fervor and fortune
For the “Tribute: Poetry Contest”
Sponsored by The Silent One
August 4th, 2015
Unearthing the heart’s emotions
Is a dangerous task
Down through the layers
I tunnel
Driven by sadness
Driven by madness
Am I ready to accept
What lies hidden
Like mushrooms springing
From the musty, sodden earth
Deep wounds lie festering
In layers of scar tissue
Bathed in dark denial
And washed white by delusion
Inside I spy
Various gems and stones
I linger with a chosen few
Those I polish and return
Others beg me to stay awhile
But it is no use
The pain of a second glance
Spurs me forward
Occasionally, I glimpse a rose
Mixed with the discards
I pause and inhale its fragrance
Praying it will remain
Later I return
Searching
Was it there?
Was it really me?
Too late it’s gone
But the sense
That I glimpsed it once
Gives renewed hope.
Tomorrow I will
Better sort the
Treasure from the trash.
Third or fourth version
Oct 2011 KDK
In the Great War’s aftermath a handful survived,
though seven billion had perished.
Time to excavate a country’s history arrived
and much speculation had been nourished.
Survivors sought signs of the culture that had flourished.
Word-of-mouth history never explained
how the world’s once-great civilization fell,
or why such a small number remained.
Unearthing the White House proceeded well,
yet beneath it excavators found a mysterious cell.
This large, steel chamber was marked by the word “Banished,”
and as inquisitive searchers opened the vault,
curiosity promptly vanished.
Musty relics they examined without halt,
finally realizing what had been at fault.
Every document inscribed with “in God we trust”
and all references to a Creator
lay buried beneath dust.
Men lacking faith had believed there was no One greater;
hubris had been their annihilator.
English Quintain
May 19, 2018
Contest: ”In 100 Years”
In the mountains,
Where hope rides the pines
Promises slide across smooth stones
Composing songs from the laughing stream
In these mountains,
Where silence reflects the soul
Pouring joy through the ferns and laurels
Caressing the spirit with starlight glimpses
In the mountains,
Where dreams raise awareness
From the sighs of the moss carpeted caverns
Amid the relics of forest trails, incredible!
In these mountains,
Where ideas sing from the stars
Lifting spirits with melodies pure of heart
Restoring peace in the praises so sensitive, alive
In the mountains,
Where details of melancholy flood
The rivers and creeks with sincerity, serenity
Overflowing the banks with sweetest intimacy
In these mountains,
Where we are gluttons for pure harmony
Singing grace through the night, into the dawn
While the rising sun reflects the shadows of old storms
In the mountains,
Where the pale moon emerges from the dark clouds
Erasing all the gloom, restoring confidence, inspiring
Breathless praise, sincere faith, prayers that brighten
In these mountains,
Where God’s blessings abound
We remember – we accept – we regret
The moments when we neglected the beauty…
Mountains so magnificent, we rejoice
Unearthing the mystery… glorious peaks
Rising to the skies, breaking through the clouds
Resurrecting the wonder of His creativity, His ingenuity
The gift of these mountains is surely a masterpiece
A work of the Master who made every dream
Including the dream of a heart who continues to believe
Here in these mountains, there is unending peace!
One in Five 2 poetry contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
Phrase: 4. The pale moon emerged from dark clouds
July 17, 2022
I've been meaning to write for a long time.
but sometimes
my words willingly remain hostage
in my heart.
Not wanting to be heard.
Covered and crumpled.
I cannot sink in
I am 18.
it's frightening,
Getting old
my mind is somewhere between
the land and the sky,
wishing to fly,
but fears the fall.
what if I am longing for the sunshine
but chasing the moonlight?
I am waiting for roses
but is it not all thorns?
what if I mistook 'mistake' as a failure
and stop moving on?
There it goes.
Overthinking.
A frequent visitor,
who barges my house constantly.
Full of impertinence.
Making it abysmal.
One simply writes down
the beautiful and the doomed
Until they manage to safely coexist
And somehow this dilutes the pain.
Such a beautifully paradoxical thing is Mind.
"You have a magical way of unearthing summer in those dry Decembers.
And of all the things you need to grow
you've chosen roots
So that one day
you can touch the skies"
it said.
I remembered how
I've always had this inaudible need,
Deeply persistent as the ivy
To reach for something beyond
The roots of my capabilities.
This number can't be an obstacle.
Eighteen is too nascent to be called seasoned.
And that's what keeps me going.
Then my heart pulled softly
the ends of those tears
releasing my fear like a ribbon
Coming quietly undone.
The universe might be showing me
That grey and white lies ahead
But today I am all ready
To show it how colourfully I can bloom.
Chilled nights anxiously swept away
holding hope as daunting eyes dance alone
brushed strokes of silence escape
hearts flutter in anticipation words
aloft floating on solemn wings
indulging in free flight fantasy
amongst where angels do sing
pressed parchment lain longs to be
read under mysterious glow
radiant notes piously resound
peering stoically in ardent spirit
tense the quiet hour plays on
minds drift off to bountiful fields
yielding precious daisies sway
happily in the gentle breeze
amber strokes of lovely lift
doleful doubt and helplessness
aside unearthing jubilation
yearning for this never ending dream
In her eyes i saw me,
the very inner man that vanished from this earth,
here i am laughing from the depth of my very soul,
unearthing the spirit that was covered with a pot.
tell me my love, to whom do i owe this gratitude
when the hunter now hunts with his catapult
the gun then becomes bored to shame.
the days of the hamattan ceased to flourish
the moment of endless rain is dew
when we will cover our lonely bodies with garments
that are made of sacks of gold dusts,
and lie solemnly in our huts
waiting to see tomorrows face.
tell me my pot of gold
to whom do i owe this gratitude,
that has shielded my feet with sandals,
quenched my belly with food
tell me! so i may praise aloud.
Why did the Native Tribal man decide to build the tee-pee for shelter?
Why did the origin of Africa build dirt houses?
The Caucasians and Australians architectural designs formed.
Does anyone know why people of color are called the dumb ones?
A discovery of DNA found that the mongoloid blood was the riches.
Next came the blood of Africa.
Never last are Caucasoid and Australoid..
Are all men created equal?
We learn from each other.
Civilization had to discourse.
The measure of a man ascertains rationality.
Therefore, woman must measure up.
The unearthing via Social Science defined humankind in their cultures.
They travel to Africa to trek in their secret gardens.
They stop first in Europe to research the humanities.
Australia was a philosophical best.
North America is the continent they commence.
In South America, tillage ethos shouted.
In all, they found the landforms to be vast and the social stigma was that of somebodies with beliefs and values.
We have taught each other well.
From war and upward-downward spiraling of discrimination, we are dumbfounded.
Our socio-political and social-religious depiction necessitates our members to
be demarcated.
Therefore, we must be innovative to delineate a diverse world.
________________________________
PENNED ON MAY 30, 2014!
chipping and hacking
sawing and sanding
this is the life of a creator
these are his sounds
a cacophony of hustle and bustle
a primal link to the past and an eye on the future
ever striving for a land bridge between the two
like ancient explorers of the human condition
back and forth
to and fro
sweeping arm movements packed with energy
eye's steady and intense gaze resting on the immediate
standing on the precipice, the gateway of creativity
ready to push the boundaries of the possible one more time
forging potentials in the foundry of insight
molten heat emanating from the source of inspiration
leaving trails across le atelier in vibrant, living color
once more into the fray.....
a chance to become something more
a demigod, replete with all the powers
to cast off these earthly shackles and take one's rightful place
amongst the Apollonian and Dionysian pantheon
standing shoulder to shoulder with the likes of Giacometti, Rodin and Michelangelo
basking in their eternal aurora of shimmering crystalline streaks of productivity
leaving traces of ocular delight along the way
but always leaving something to be desired
just out of reach and unattainable, alluding to greater grandeur
scaling the philosophical peaks and traversing the political spectrum
to unify the scattered, to join the fragmented, to give voice to the oppressed
saying something with nothing
directing the viewer's eye with subtleties
emphasizing silence with space and void
painting and glazing
soldering and welding
hands steadily guiding and grinding
unearthing the inert qualities laying dormant, waiting to be revealed
commanding that the materials speak and be known
this is a life worth living
this is the life of a creator
Loneliness hurting
I started flirting
Inviting her to the dance
Downhearted
When we soon parted
Romance never given a chance.
The walls that protect me
Also confine me
I'm afraid those walls must fall
Getting frantic
Feeling romantic
I must answer my hearts call.
First I must find her
She's out there
waiting for me
I'm searching
In the hope of unearthing
The girl who will share my destiny.
Last time
Was the wrong time
Before we started
We were done
Next time
Might be the right time
May be this time
She'll be the one.
I know you would come to my poem
Like a tree, being fully clothed
With spades and measuring lines
To dig for roots in syllables of mine
Unearthing the buttress to shine.
Making a mess of the ground is how
You prove the tree where beauty grows.
I have watched you with it a full hour
O what a regular baby you are
Banging for its entrails like a toy
Shredding it limb by limb and making
Sure it never bear fruit differently
After you are done. I am enjoying
You enjoying the violence done to it.
Some came here tenderly before
To pick its bloosoms as gifts for love
Or fragrance the tomb of death
Where petals wither stemless and poor
Dissected from the discourse of my life.
You must never pick a flower
Let it die upon the stem, and seed from
There, the earth with poems again.
I come to you like a lover, a bringer
And not a taker of others joy
Sniffing your body on its stem
Lissom on the cool curves of wind
I come to you naked to feel
Your soft kisses of dew on my skin
To let your balmy aroma heal
My sensibilities broken like a kite.
We are two poems, O let us speak
Aloud the taste of words upon the tongue
And feel the magic of meaning swell
Beyond the verbs of what we seek.
Let us expose our breast of colors
Upon the milk of thirsty eyes
Let us give the old traditionalist shivers
And fondle only with our surprise.
Beautiful things break
as readily as the brittlest rock
The quake rattled me;
your seismic words
unearthing the foundation
of this thing we’d built
Beautiful things shatter
like fragile china under feet
The tempest tore through me;
your rumbling thoughts
flung through the air
shrapnel slicing cartilage
Beautiful things ignite
as swift as finest kindling
The flames engulfed me;
it was your carelessness
doused in abandonment
setting our souls alight.
Beautiful things sink
like anchors of pure Osmium
And here it drowned me;
in a depth unknown
a depth I’d never thought to see
the deepest, darkest depths of me.