Handcrafted Poems | Examples

Wilting flowers

Wilted flowers
Wilted flowers lie in empty fields
Days pass as flies scour,
Leaving the decomposing ideas to be eaten.
The sun flickers as each minute weans by
An empty shell of you left in bloody waters.
A quiet silence crowding the space your words claimed.
The once blooming pedals, scorned by your nectar.
Craving the burn you bring into my veins; no longer able to be muzzled
A type of silent desire for chaos and destruction.
A desire for deforestation.
What started as weeds being plucked,
Turned to mowing down rose bushes.
Muddy boots left on waxed floors,
Destruction on the original wood grain that was once admired by generations.
Floors handcrafted from trees outside of what I wanted to call home.
Someplace silence was peace and peace was expected rather than craved.
Pruned roses left puddles of milkweed
Each droplet going sour the second it fell,
The bitter taste of cyanide leaked out of your pores into its water supply.
Empty plots. Pesticides. Ripped roots.

He Loved Pianios

Bechstein, Blüthner, Steinway or Fazioli,
even an archaic Pianoforti,
long had he craved to play them all.
He was in love with their shape and sheen,
their sweeping contours, their circuit bodies.

He loves the sensuality of maple and spruce,
those handcrafted mahogany torsos,
the sprung brass of muted pedals,
deep resonations
within a grand iron skeleton
a tri-legged, beast of beauty,
built to create the most delicate of nocturns,
or a thumping Hungarian Rhapsody.

He would run his fingers,
over their curvaceous sable forms
allow fingertips to caress un-played keys,
the almost erotic white and black harmony
beneath a chaste lid.

He imagines playing
for a lady in crinoline perhaps,
and he the intense composer
of unspoken desires.

Sad to say,
his clumsy laptop fingers,
clattered upon that keyboard,
his coda forever silent.

Wooden spoon

Wooden spoon -old fashioned handcrafted discipline tool

Liwat Rib

In 1958 we saw the end of an era.
Mused the Curtiss Wright scholar.
he told a crowd of people
that an America that didn't
trust in the newness of creativity
would see a day were only exterior machines
would be looked at as something American enough
to be bought. Standing on the Promises of Yesteryear he
saw using the brands of yesteryear as the way to
move America forward.
He talked of reinventing the way we travel.
By moving the design forward
and never looking back.
Not using the samples of yesterday: but
creating new product under a Brand Name recogniable
enough to create family oriented appeal to modern auto's..
Bringing people together in the ailenment of futuristic design.
Creating quality Auto's and Luxury Products
were people from all ages could be proud to spend and buy.
The aquistion of Parkard motor Company:
to create from the sketch pad, a product
that would rival all companies. Building both
handcrafted timepeices
and the manufacturing of
products that would set the standard for quality
across the globe. He ended his speech
saying" Packard: where have you Been!"

Simply Godgeous

My mood is Godgeous
My attitude is Godgeous
My life is Simply Godgeous

My house is Godgeous
My children are Godgeous
My beauty is Godgeous
My smile is Simply Godgeous

Everything about me is GODgeous, because God handcrafted and specifically designed me and made me GODgeous!

Through the sun and the rain, the good times and bad, whether the sky is gray or blue, always know and remember that you are GODgeous too!

The Chair Peddler

A man reached me at the market that day.
He lifted two handcrafted seats on his head.
He urged, "Won't you buy my chairs?" Today.
Nobody took my chairs. All moved instead.

I recall helping others with daily duties in life.
If you find a poor partner, avail him in strife.
None are so flush that they might not borrow.
The fate of the poor may be our lot tomorrow.

Look, these are the best things I have made.
Please buy my seats. I slum my children frayed.
He seems gloomy. This person is my age.
Words nag me. I gave him cash and change.

I echo helping others, even when being mean.
Do not judge your pal's deep suspicions, lean.
No fine, people can avoid shame or misery.
Lift others in the race for a swathe of glittery.

I replied, "I need one seat, but sell the rest."
Kids are waiting, and I wish you all the best.
Thrusting his hands to pray, I was unready.
For me, it was an incomer with tears already.

I never lost the venting of the chair salesman.
It may not be a lot to exalt others when we can.
If it turns on a brother, do not let envy ruin it.
We pray for each other's rightness, joy, and grit.

Written: November 28, 2022

I Imagine Mansion

When you spot the stars above your head
Remember you are the quirky ones that glitter
the rivers turn blue under the sky 
but oh! its only in my eyes?
Do you see what I see?
Haven't been to heaven 
yet I imagine a mansion
A giant magnificent edifice
what a lovely master piece!
Then, let us assemble our feet stronger on the higher ground
Let the sun shines be ever brighter than it used to be.
Let the humans roar at you
even the wheels of your car may be stabbed
well, will you still be in awe of the wonders?
The handcrafted things,
the nature that display its glorious existence.
who can fathom the depth of the ocean?
But there is someone to whom, every detail is fathomable.
every ounce of anguish is known.
"Be courageous". He said,
will you recline and be at rest?
The night will not be dark 
the sun will rise again.
and we will have the place in that mansion.

Celestial Beings

A familiar aroma wafted towards me,
As I looked up into blue azure skies,
And far beyond, a golden horizon.
I could barely see the shapes of an old
Man holding a young child’s hand,
The man wore a long white robe
And was smoking a handcrafted
Pipe, and the spiraling smoke from it, 
Triggered a memory, who was this man.
He didn’t speak much until
I asked him who the child was, He
Granted us a short encounter
The old man said,
So that you can briefly meet.
Tears rolled down my face
As I took the child
And held him tightly in my arms,
For an everlasting moment, a miracle!
We are your guardian angels he said, 
Taking back my bundle of life,
And gradually disappearing with his
Charge, leaving behind a trail of smoke
The aroma of which was distinctly the
Tobacco my father smoked. My father
Holding my child's hand, his grandson
Who died when only five days old, 
And whom I had never met,
Celestial beings permitted to appear, 
And just as quickly disappear, 
Their message I believe, that one day we 
Would meet, in the presence of His love 
Within the realms of heaven above.



Poem of the Day - 18.9.2021

Gods Surprise

As this sphere spins within my hands,   
I can see and feel billions of people.   
They laugh and work and pray;   
Within and outside my steeples.  

..I've handcrafted them all,   
..Each and every one with love.  
..And for those that are troubled,   
..I comfort with cloud-based gloves.  

....Now I see two unfamiliar souls,  
....That straddle this globe.  
....They stand in the sun,  
....And communicate in ways they know.  

......They will never touch,  
......Or know each other's scent,    
......But both wish to seek...    
......What true love is meant.    

....They challenge each other,   
....With language and riddles.  
....And try to make sense,   
....Even where knowledge is little.    

..So I spin the Earth,   
..To close out the lights.   
..But these two souls   
..Stay up at night!      

And then as day breaks,   
Comes to my surprise to see...   
That at the same time,    
They both stare up at me.

2018

An Unwanted Guest

This belle epoch awakes resemblance
With times of plague in dark-bound books
Allegedly, we’re on dependence
Of history, with all its hooks
I doubt this cliche, however
This comer is a bit too smart
And so it smells he’d stay forever
Being handcrafted from the start
He’s going to mature through the ages
He’d bring the depth in water run
He’ll pass all the required stages
He wouldn’t stop, till work is done
Then may he rest in rich man’s arbour
Where ivy hangs down to the floor
Last glimpse of lighthouse in the harbour
Eroded pier, and ships galore
A guest unwanted, he dissolves
In wee small hours, when the air
Is still at night, while breezing calls
For morning star - and it is there.

Handiworks

Woven together like fine mesh
A perfect fit of flesh with flesh
Handshaking

Mutual between romancers
Affirmations flow like dancers
Handwritten 

Pearl earrings, dress of lace
Roses, baby's breath, and vase
Hand-chosen

A diamond in a ring of gold
The framework of a new house sold
Handcrafted

Young bride and groom, fifty years wed
Sunrises and sunsets ahead
Handholding

5-3-2020
Compounding The Verse Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May

Craziness I'M Wayward

O Dear I read you as Love without knowing true
I refine you many times as my God in my thoughtful vow
Here I'm still alone in the path of rosy thorn
look- I've accomplished everything with my heart colors
the race of river with its concentration towards the ocean
the firing sunlight with the icy moonlight
the golden sunrise with the silver sunset
the tranquil dawn with the greasy dusk
the handcrafted noon with the embroidered afternoon
the dreamy night with the contemplated darkness
the yearning day with a lot of learning chapter of nature
the daily life making intimacy with the imaginative desire
the far flowery stars with the deep silence of the space
the endless galaxy paths with its greatest journey

O dear I embedded these everything for our unity
Our disheveled caravan on the path of almighty

O dear in me craziness
I'm still wayward trace
I find everything everyday within love sublime
I live with my loneliness, it's opined me fine
The decorated rainbow abridging to your line
In me life and death double sim card is activated
But still don't know who is love or God in my debate

13.04.2020 Chattogram

Fallen Shadow

her shadow, fallen,
beneath the weeping of emerald fields-
barriers of broken wings never held her, 
they only left her breathless
she longs for redemption for transgressions
not her fault-
for youth stole her innocence and she is
left one day away from never ending solitude

laden in restful slumber she dreams
of fallen angels that should have saved her-
they vowed to protect not neglect;
she sat by the shattered sill and waited…
       WAITED FOR LOVE

adrift the ivory snow is where she lived,
above the hillside yet below the mount-
seeking the winter chill to ease the heat
of loss;
ignited in blazing embers of hope burning,
no longer safe inside the visceral temple
she handcrafted so long ago

she knew not how i felt for her-
if only i could rest her head on my chest
and we could be us...
          one more time

i say farewell under the twilit harvest moon-
walk away from her grave
                              -once more-




26th of January 2020

Butler

Like a butler with affluence in an experiment of own creation,
Counting the amount of celluloid before any fireworks is triggered,
I gnawed the vapour that was an outcome of a prolonged moan,
And, held a long serge scarf wanting to place it gently over an open mouth.
Scavenger with an open scull letting my brain be picked,
By mocking the Trinity and the four horsemen with cascades of rippled water,
But fortunately not having enough courage to confront the world.

Like the last pagan king who decided to save all, and what he could
By blowing a heap of sawdust into the ponds of innocence,
Sire, I’ve entered the realm of handcrafted curse,
Seeing all the bouncy fillies, many, one, none,
As an immortal faith rained down pebbles of doubt and strife,
My inner sparrows made swift passes between the ears,
Bare clean, very lean, moving onto the essence of what one sees as real in life.

Mountains

Made over millions of years, handcrafted by our gods
  Out of pure earthly might, these giants take eternal watch
    Under the weather they shadow the land, and breed life on their backs
      Never to be broken down, sentinels of Earth’s landscape
        Tall is this abstract concept, heavy in unimaginable mass
          A rock stacked on top of another, will eventually become one, timeless
            In beautiful light they transcend nature’s beauty, testament 
              Now towering celestial formations, they guide generations of cells, and
               Symbolize all that man craves, a view that scratches the sky.

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