Long Dredging Poems
Long Dredging Poems. Below are the most popular long Dredging by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dredging poems by poem length and keyword.
The sun blowtorches its way into the water,
fragments, and the bottom is an aqua sky
webbed by white-hot lightning.
Here and there, legs hang like halved mannequins
disappearing into a squiggly-bright ceiling,
through which you can make out
the slurred shape of a poolside palm tree.
The deep, guttural grooon-grooon of
the water’s stomach growling is all you hear,
dredging up a similar sound from your subconscious,
last heard while you were immersed, long ago,
in another fluid world.
The water suddenly internal-combusts
in a tangle of arms and legs,
flailing in a fizz of a million tiny bubbles,
some kid having just somersaulted into the blue.
Soon, another’s face splashes down before you,
slightly albino in the shining water,
bug-eyed with silvered goggles
like a child alien from a waterless planet
discovering buoyancy.
Then you realize it’s your own kid,
wobbling from side to side,
toothy, hair waving like smoke
as he dog-paddles away.
You come up for air, breaching the surface like a
graceless dolphin,
and clarity hits your ears,
a momentarily soundless din.
You can already feel your skin heating up
in the blast furnace above water,
confusing because there are beads
running down your face and neck, cold.
You suck a lungful of air and push yourself under again,
but not before catching a glimpse of your wife
drowse-browsing a magazine on her sun lounger,
and the two umbrellas,
the big one shading the miniature one
stuck in the snowy slush of your pina colada.
Night passes into day, day passes into night.
Each hour steers the course of the time we know of as life.
Walking slowly forwards on a track moving in the other way. We face the same questions, the same fears day after day after day.
Striking a balance between what is dream, desire and fixed in our souls.
Doubting is a disease that makes our dreams unfold.
Perhaps destiny plays a hand or perhaps it’s just simple, pure luck. We never really know as we’re dredging through the muck.
But holding on to a dream is a powerful light of hope.
Holding onto your dream maybe the answer to shut up all your woes.
Awoke by a nightmare, in cold sweat
dews were to settle on foliage yet
sun was below the horizon still
birds were calm in their nests in chill
rooster had not sounded alarm yet
the darkness a foe waiting in stealth.
Now an eerie silence flaying my mind
dredging the past, mind remorse clad
minced by remorseful reminiscence
Oh ! can I erase the past in silence.
Or if I could retreat to the womb again
And my slough, if stealthily hidden
And frame only my infancy and smile
Cropping edges of my worn out shell.
and cast the past in the consuming fire.
To rise like a phoenix in time and pure
And start all over the lost days in peace.
They watched as the tentacles of the atomic industry spread.
A mycelium growth along the coastline.
Ever nearing the land beloved of Nicholson, a uniqueness being devoured.
False hope and promise.
and like the swans on the flooded mine, buried their heads, feeding on the scraps.
As Bank Head and Kirksanton suffered they slobbered, selective blindness to the cruelty.
The weak of the clutch removed from the nest.
It was their job to protect, to highlight the injustice.
But ever on they went dredging the depths, ignoring those whose plates were being stripped clean to feed them.
Profitting on the misery of others.
Those who took their words as true, left helpless.
The community that the poet exalted, different, deceived, and forever divided.
Pioneers betrayed.
Windscale, Calder Hall built by them yet kept at distance to preserve our place.
The poets castle restored on the “Unnecessary suffering”
Norman turns.
The shame.
Gold Dredging
Early morning first light
Camped on the rugged, mountainous terrain
Out of our warm sleeping bags and tent we crawl
To the smells of pine and clean fresh air of the mountain
Wood starts a sizzling, spitting, crackling campfire
For early morning hot coffee and a warm breakfast
I Dress in tee shirt and swim suit,
Hubby is in his wet suit
We walked down to the creek
Pull the dredge into the creek and get it started
When he hits bedrock where gold might be hiding
I stand beside the sleuth watching the
Gravel run over the riffles
I make sure the riffles stay clean
So the heavy gold
Will deposit behind them and on the mat
I see the flash of color and utter excitement
I yell, “We've hit gold,” impatient
With my tweezers and small jar
For safekeeping and
I keep on cleaning
When the day is done, tired, wet, and weary as a drowned rat
We clean the miners mat into a bucket
By the campfire we sit and pan our gold from the black sand
After the hard day’s work we undertook, it is wonderful
To see all the sparkling gold dust in my pan
The same warm excited feeling
I felt when my husband placed
My gold wedding band on my finger
12/27/2014
I’ve lost the thread,
I don’t know why,
however much I sit and try
I still think lots of poetry’s crap,
(it’s not like me to think like that).
I struggle on from verse to verse,
as sometimes every line gets worse,
for long, long hours
though God knows why,
just reading all that meets my eye.
But hidden deep beneath the grot
sometimes a piece
will hit the spot,
a gem of creativity
absorbing every part of me.
It’s then I know why I still look,
for poetry becomes my hook
and like a fish beneath the sea
hook, line and sinker,
it’s caught me.
I’ll journey on this poet’s rhyme
absorbed by each and every line,
enraptured by the poet’s verse
this is the nature
of my curse.
Good Poets of the world unite
and feed my hunger when you write
such words delivered with such might,
it’s worth my dredging
through the trite!
Ivor G Davies
A Nation Lost
When did it happen
that we became
a nation of haters?
Not just the few hate groups,
but millions of us.
What happened that
we have turned neighbor
against neighbor?
Caused people to be afraid
to pray outside of their
chosen sanctuary?
Made small children fear
their parents will be taken away?
When did it become okay
to mock disabilities,
to prey on people’s insecurities?
We had made progress,
though much still needed to be done.
With just one single election,
we took a giant leap
into the past,
dredging up old divisions and
creating new ones.
Threatened is the security
of health care,
carving away hard-earned benefits
of the indigent and elderly,
cutting food stamps for
those who are most needy,
decimating the environment for greed,
depriving our children and grandchildren
of their rightful inheritance,
destroying Nature’s good earth.
But forget religion of any kind.
We now worship money.
Democracy? Forget that, too.
Our oligarchy is healthy
and growing healthier every day.
But don’t ever give up!
Do not slip quietly into
the land of darkness and hate.
Speak up. Fight for truth.
It is up to all of us to shine light
into the blackness and work to
restore goodness and democracy
to our nation.
Betrayal feels like you've witnessed love’s death,
giving a new definition to loss.
And a storm of pent-up fears gets unleashed,
as wishes and disappointments crisscross.
Feelings drift in a stupor of despair,
embellishing lies in need of screening.
And as deceitful suitors feign feelings;
old pledges of love hold little meaning.
Fate inks your world in sorted shades of blue,
lamenting the colors of yesterday.
And truth hides under deceptive layers,
while lies are repeated day after day.
Memories fill you with anxiety,
as your dreams drown in a river of tears.
And feeling stuck in the past, your heart hurts,
dredging up lost dreams and forgotten fears.
Jellyfish
Once I had a wild wish
To be a jolly jellyfish,
A quietly quivering jellyfish
Shivering in the sea.
I did not crave to be a crab,
A sideways-scuttling, crusty scab
In sluggish sludge and dismal drab
At the bottom of the sea,
Nor wish to be a sucking sponge,
Sea-sway drudge of the fathoms' plunge,
Dredging supper from the soupy gunge
In the dungeons of the sea.
I might have wished for shark or whale,
To lord the oceanic trail,
My dorsal fin a regal sail,
Imperial in the sea;
Or dared to dash through the dolphin waves,
Gliding where the wild seas rave,
Dive to a shipwreck's sunken grave,
Sunken deep in the sea.
Instead, I wished for a jellyfish,
A parachuting jellyfish,
A gossamer drift in the seas' vast dish;
That's what I wished for me.
Kid naps here, daycare!
Sick babies...About those
Kidnaps are there! Out there!
I wish I could, evocation, dowry!
For an already invested $275 nuptial Tyler Mowrey!
Gaza wall and Tel-Aviv- a , embracing in Jackson Church
Sameeha Azra- eel A and a PEER in peer pressure for air fryer
Is your oxygen an EIN? Bargaining overseas? Playing diplomacy? Daunts in ranting ramps where models stood?
Sometimes, data cable is not that a bad idea, where "inna lillah" is also a cliched Hinda call!
Long she served Holly Wood, May she come true among converts and traveler (pilgrims)
further in optimism in selfless "Sufism" not "Sophism or Hedonism",
Sin and Boon are all stamped with the sense of Shame, where the guilt is sensed after all!
Not a river dredging and to make a parable to river shifting, as no longer helpful!
Helpful and no longer! For once, try in Pickthall!
For the end of the time and the beginning, too
Time impeccable is Timeless Allah (SWT) and the all-knowing and all!
In time He begets not,
In Time He is free from the need of an obgyn,
of that specialty, departmental.