Dust Poems - Poems about Dust

The hegemony of height gets too much. The city robs me of the horizon and hides it behind towering cathedrals of concrete and glass. Even trees conspire to fill the gaps and extend their leafy reach to obscure the sky. I long for uninterrupted distance, horizontal vistas of the open sea and the flat, unfenced expanses of the inland with its views to infinity....

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Play a role till the gold of your soul runs dry leave the ghost town far enough behind through the parched winter of the mind search for virgin glitter on the next horizon The sirens sing to endless weaknesses it takes everything not to cave in... again take up the rusted sifter and battered spade while digging for gold you're making your...

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In the silence between battles, where echoes fade into the dust of forgetting, War weaves its tale, a silent dialogue between shadows and flames, What are your plans, oh war, what surprises do you prepare for us in the shadows, Where do you see yourself in a month, in five years, when silence will fall? Let's talk about your...

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They planted trees but forgot their water. Each leaf a wrinkled newspaper clipping from a world I never subscribed to. Noise here is curated. A choir of car horns, a sermon of drills but I hear the silence between footsteps and the echo of one slippered child crossing the pedestrian overpass with rice in a plastic bag. My eyes collect forgotten wrappers, graffiti prayers, the melancholy of sky cut by...

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l came from a desert you've never heard of l am the source of the potters clay in the storm of the desert l wander in a desert that has no home then l rest upon the surface of the water and the sounds that leaks through your windows l can deflect back into space and then she calls your name across...

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after ‘The waste Land’, by T.S. Eliot I met a woman on a glitching screen, her face a whisk of pixels and prayer. She spoke of shattered systems and survived code, “The cloud remembers everything,” she said, "but forgets what matters.” A rat hurried through my feed at dawn, past memes and headlines, each a kind...

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A pony her dream only orthodontics violin lessons yearly safaris ...

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In courts of shadow, thrones are made, Not by virtue—but by blade. From Persia’s gate to Zion’s hill, It’s not peace, but will, that breaks the still. Two lions stare with burning eyes, Clad in scripture, veiled in lies. Each speaks of God, yet plays the game— Where oil is blood and land is fame. Iran, the scholar cloaked in flame, Dreams of empires,...

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E-ven R-iver I-s C-ascading A-nd M-ountains A-re E-roding, M-en A-re N-ot I-mmortal C-reatures, A-s N-othing I-s ©bfa052525 Monocrostic (Birthday of Ericamae G. Manicani) ...

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Wee Willie Wagtail, sleek and spry, Flew up to catch a bug on fly, When along came a wily willy-willy Swirling winds aloft willy and nilly Loop-de-looping poor Willie, up into sky!...

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I no longer want to be a child, for those years carry a thick layer of forgotten dust, where every corner hides a room where I learned to forget how to breathe, and memories are like shadows dancing silently on the walls of time. Returning would mean shattering myself on the same silent and cold corners, on the same...

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Read this, you must Excuse my dust, See ya on flip side, Reaper's got my hide!...

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Dust drops like silent thoughts, neglected over the piano lid, shut quiet and still. Some dust we keep as mementos in a chaotic pile of keepsakes. Some we wipe away on a rainy day, with windows wide open to keep it from our nostrils. We wipe away the fingerprints left by the guilty one, the cleaner upper-er, to leave no trace for retribution. Neglect,...

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I Know, Im a grain of sand Fixated on you. We are dust ,in this master plan . Ill just, blow away. To a never happy ending If you dont stay. Let's make this promise. I Don't wanta stop, what we do . I'm fixated on you. Everything you do , is sweet! While you think, you tap , your lip...

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In the inner garden where silence lays its mantle of blue dust, The butterflies in my stomach have slept so long they seemed like stones, Or perhaps they died in a winter of forgetting and cold shadows, But now, suddenly, I feel them awaken as if they were memories, They begin to move slowly, unhurriedly, like children in the...

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