Limestone Poems - Poems about Limestone

Rip-rap for the sides of highways Surge is for the smaller byways Twos and threes, a nice good base Twenty-fours, a French drain, place Fifty-sevens to dress a road, Sixty-sevens, for better flow. Crusher run is best on top And that is where my knowledge stops… ...

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confussion and frustration made the task a chore it favored longety which at first evaluation of the work had been ignored in referance to the group we were straong and committed but in labor we were divided and uncommitted. I felt cheap and used like a man who wished more attention from his lover. I must sort the collected bunch to then label and make inventory according to fiber strenght and stone value monodisperse...

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i used to hike the entire trail without seeing another soul.. but a political bug changed that people are swarming here now I counted fourteen cars before 8:00am today i hardly see any wildlife anymore the critters have retreated to the green center far away from the unleashed people,,, and dogs the pervs and the dealers have moved in just the other day a...

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The stones could be prehistoric fertility figures, they persist, they redefine the seen. Water-pliant, submissive, they are turned on the wind’s millwheels. Some remind me of farm girls broad buttocks, love handles, rolling hips. Not like the bony walkers that climb up here. I sit leaning against an ample mound - feel the womanish stone shaping its image around me....

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limestone hearted eaten away by God's eternal, feral rain stalagmite preachers in full royal bloom igniting fanged candles to temper gloom memories choked with thorny throated weeds half-hearted souls, blue marbled eulogies... truly, time chisels flesh into stone fluted memories are forged from bone snake congregation bearing footfall refrain limestone hearted forever.. a mad harlot to the rain...

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A russet landscape surrenders to rain, while walking slowly it feels quite chilly; the sudden surprise of a whistling train seems delightful to hear and offers some cheer... our journey ends at the doorsteps of our home, where we sit watching the gleaming stars above. A house of limestone. October is colder than the stones we gaze upon, such as the Deep...

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