Hardens Poems | Examples

The Watermark

The mark of water is an empty void.
It washes clean.
It slips through fingers, 
It has no cup, leaves no trace
For it is the primordial spark,
the fountainhead of life,
the matter and medium
that's within sustaining
all living things.

The watermark you speak of
is the scar of what lingers,
after water has been and gone—
the scum that clings,
the salt crust and sediment grit,
the shroud of dust,
the mildew of memory,
the rusted scourge of hope.

But the mark is not made by water.
for even it's echo
is unblemished, innocent, untainted,
leaving no fingerprints,
to trace back for blame or guilt.

After the touch of water departs,
or the maker brands an indelible stain
the aftertaste of water hardens its resolve
To reassert and stake its claim, 
that the so-called watermark
is, in truth, the scar and smear
that water and time 
can no longer wash away.

love, underbaked

I baked a whole tray—
not for me.
I’ve never liked brownies,
too sweet on tongue, 
too soft for teeth…
But you once said
you'd like to try mine.

They cracked as they left the oven.
I bit, too soon—
blistered my tongue
on sugar too young to settle.
If only you were here to taste it…
you’d know what I meant.

They’re best straight from the pan—
burning, messy,
sweet enough to sting.
But the moment passed,
and now they’ve gone rigid—

I sit with the tray
untouched but for one corner.
My eyes drift out to the setting sun—
The warmth dies...
The surface hardens...
for the baked and the baker.

Decision

Author  Dana Redricks  
April 25, 2025

How do I decide, when the path splits in two, when the steps I might take could erase what I knew? This image of me, built through struggles and strife, now I tremble with doubt in the face of new life.  

I seek a hand to hold, a voice to guide, but silence surrounds me; I’m pushed aside. And yet, there’s One who feels my unseen scars, who knows the battles raging beneath these stars.  

Only God knows the ache in my soul, the yearning to mend, to be made whole. These feelings are vivid, they burn, they are so surreal, the depth of my pain, the need to heal.  

What should I do? Is the cost too steep, to journey alone where shadows creep? This maze of reality twists and turns, each corner ignites, each doubt still burns.  

Explaining myself feels like a worn-out refrain, yet I scream at the skies with words soaked in pain. The world chills my spirit, it hardens my view, but still, I must ask how can I stay true?  

Through faith, through grace, I’ll find my way, for even in darkness, there’s hope for the day. To make it through, to rise and renew, I hold to the promise: God's love will see me through.

fruit

fruit

we sway in the wind
but i grasp the air
in hopes it can sweep me from this branch
this branch-
preserving the purity of my skin-
is forced to let me fall

i rip from the loosening grip of my cluster
a wound on my side-
evidence of a new chance-
gifted by violent departure
i feel the air on my palms

i smash into the ground
mud covers my face.
i gaze up to the branch-
my past shimmers in the glaring sun.

a blue bird flies overhead
her beauty exerts itself effortlessly over my grime.
she parades her freedom
as the mud hardens under the kiln of the sun
i signal to the bird.

recognizing my flare, she glides to my side
and picks me apart
as i lay here-
opened up to this beast-
i listen to her speak

her tongue mumbles a foreign language
one that doesnt wish things away
a language learned from experiences
observed in her fulfilled juvenility

when all that is left
is the muddy skin on my back,
i sink into the earth
decaying for more time than i ever spent on a branch
why would i ever
excuse myself from youth to preserve my expiration?
i forfeit my experience then,
to gain a lonely breath here

At the beginning, your thoughts are like fresh clay

At the beginning, your thoughts are like fresh clay,
malleable and soft to the touch, shaped by the hands of your early desires,
like a canvas painted with dreams dancing under the morning light.
As time passes, the clay hardens,
fired by the heat of failure, cooled by the chill of loss,
and in that hardening, it finds its true form,
a form that will endure through storms and sun,
through hands that try to reshape it again and again,
like a blind sculptor attempting to redefine time-worn marble.
In the depths of the soul, these thoughts become rocky landscapes,
where memories settle like autumn leaves on cold ground,
and in every crack of the hardened clay, a story hides,
a whisper of the past reverberating in the silence of the present.
So, in the flow of consciousness, you continue to walk this land,
where each step brings echoes of desires and losses,
seeking in every rigid form a trace of warmth,
a memory of the softness from the beginning,
in a never-ending journey through the uncharted maps of your thoughts.

Sunset West of Eden

Candles wax time pulls it to Earth,
drops cool stilled hardens in seconds,
a fire holder girth, warps obverse,
candles wax time pulls it to Earth,
vapors prompt darkening observes,
fire loses fight gloaming transcends, 
candles wax time pulls it to Earth,
drops cool stilled hardens in seconds.

The bell

I'll take a trip with my imagination 
I'll surf on the waves of reality 
I'll ask my conscience for clarification 
Then flirt and wink at my frailty

A spectrum of all that can be
Is cluttered by reality's mist
It hardens with what i need to see
But i punch through it with desire's fist

No more shall i be held
No less than should be
I'll be measured by how hard i ring Tartarus's bells
And signaling to all that i am free

Into the Abyss

Beware the never ending night 

That darkens and hardens the heart

Tunnel sight that's devoid of light

And pulls humanity apart 

Fragile is the corrupted mind

Once beguiled by the serpent's kiss

Morally blind and soon to find 

Forever into the abyss

Unfinished

Sunlight spills
onto the hardwood,
seeping through a crack
of the hallway’s last door.

Steps echoing heartbeats,
click, click; click, click,
a building crescendo
like coming thunder.

A hesitant nudge
spreads the door's gap,
releasing an ominous creak
with a surge of sun.

The thick silence
swallows the sound,
and the purple-walled room
smells of cucumber melon.

A gray sweater
hangs on a swivel chair,
resting lifeless beside
an unmade bed.

A dried palette
hardens on the desk,
a brush paused mid-stroke
on an interrupted painting.

Shadows stretch long
against the weeping walls,
longing to wear
the half-painted canvas.

light fades to the sunset,
and the empty room 
exhales,
mourning the life 
unfinished.

Act of Defiance

The pain you wish to inflict, 
Is your quandary as I resist. 

Grovel, you demand with hate. 
But my resolve hardens and will not abate. 

You capture my past for all to see. 
But you don't realize that it makes me free. 

You seek harm, for my compliance. 
Yet you don't know that I dance with defiance.

You angerly wonder why this is so. 
For the truth of life, I do know.

I speak of Love and truth for you to see.
You sat down in wonder saying, “Explain to me.”

Listen my friend to the whispering wind
Gaia speaks of love to you without end.

Think of nothing and feel her loving embrace.
As you close your eyes you can feel your heart race.

Startled, you open your eyes, crying “I feel her!”
You celebrate with Love and hugs, knowing you are cured.

conflict coming from our graves

if the rain were to fall 
and the sky were to bubble in clouds
would you return to me
would you clean the wounds of my life
and sacrifice some of your soul for my own

what is it in this world
that hardens our hearts and strangles love
we have died every day among the beauty 
yet, we are drawn to the ugliness of sin
to willingly burn in the candle's flame

if i had lived pure
would you give in and carry
me to places i've only dreamed of
caress me as a child and
love me as a lover from your past

bring forth the packets of pain, gather among us 
in a reunion of regret, in a sea of solitudes
as the rain begins to fall from the bubbling clouds
washing the dust from our spirits as we rise
forever and forever free


C2023 Thomas Lee Rhymes - April 21, 2023

Many Mansions

Many are knocking on Gods hidden door
trying to escape brimstone floors
Some views are narrower than peepholes
while others see through open windows
Lifes a beach with many sandy shores
that go deeper than any ocean floor
My advice is to go with life's liquid flow
& enjoy the boat with all its rows

The mind is the center of this earthly core
& all of its rocky ores
Brave the waters & mold your will into the hardest steel
because life hardens feelings on a massive scale
Mass appeal blinds many to what lies in store
to what's housed behind attractive doors
I tell you this series of dreams are more than real
but many lack the awareness of their lucid feel

When I Was Clay

I miss when I was like clay.

Malleable and young.

Spinning, and the spinning is playful like a merry go round.

In a process to become something more.

Fingerprints, and crumbling, and mess.

Laughing, and having fun.

And then the kiln hardens me.

And that’s forever.

Until I fall, 

And all it takes is one fall to crack.

I can be glued back.

Into a functioning bowl, that will hold soups and cereals for the rest of my life.

But I’ll never be as beautiful…

I miss when I was clay.

But they had this idea.

To take that away.

Etheree of Seasons

Spring
summons
season of
rebirth, where birds
build nests for new-borns.
Nature's palette spreads joy
as bright colours flourish with
buttercups, daffodils, bluebells,
blooming with rows of vibrant tulips.
Golden orb begins to spread its warm rays,
virgin summer roses bloom like rubies.
My inner child smiles at butterflies,
fledglings expand their tiny wings.
Mild rain hydrates perfumed buds.
Rainbow dahlia garnish,
under turquoise skies.
Sweet pea prolongs
around trees,
screening
stalks.
I
shiver
at the loss
of my blossoms
crumbling in Autumn. 
Green turns yellow then brown,
as clouds grieve and bleed charcoal.
Auburn leaves decorate soaked paths.
Flock of birds soar to pleasant pastures.
Flashbacks from laid to rest souls resurface.
Winter weaves frozen cobwebs as winds howl.
Dark days, cold nights with nature naked,
sun hides its glow as ground hardens.
Snow kissed evergreen sepals,
covered in pristine white,
appear grand until,
bitter raindrops,
create ice
upon
them.

Snake Skin Scales

On snakes gleaming skin,
scales shimmer like morning dew,
armor compliant.
Old flakes shed for new,
As silk snake skin is rebirthed.
It unfolds, hardens.
The scales slide over,
intertwine in sliver coils.
Body sinuous
glides effortlessly
over the ground, through the grass
it slithers, with no
sound nor disturbance.
The scales gripping the ground with
gentle caress touch,
carefully firm soft,
leaving shallow sliver trace.
Snake skin is indeed
artist's work when still,
and poetry in motion.
Marvel of nature.
An exquisite scaly thing.

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