Long Shovel Poems
Long Shovel Poems. Below are the most popular long Shovel by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shovel poems by poem length and keyword.
For years my father
Dug up his buddy, tilling
His garden for spring.
Never using his Roto
But, shoveling so slowly.
Dad was afraid that
His garden friend, might be hurt
By roto-tilling.
Painfully Dad partook of,
His cautious task so slowly.
You see, for many
years, Dad’s buddy surprised him;
Greeting him the same.
In a shovel full of dirt,
His friend, a terrapin, lay.
Dad always looked him
Over, for some injuries,
Very carefully,
Placed him in the grass until
He had finished the tilling.
For about one whole
Decade that old terrapin,
Would turn up each time;
As the garden grew, Dad fed
His friend lettuce, carrots, beans…
Dad was so attached;
That turtle, he did rate and
Dad loved that little
Creature like he was his best
Friend; turtle always came back.
Sending street people home. It’s too cold.
God can clear streets faster than you can say, “boo.”
Fresh, crisp air - the cleanse of triggered scent.
The lift of higher and higher white suds of flakes.
Go home! Catch your breath. Put on your boots.
Play with powdered refresh. Don’t go back
to same old, same old. You can be renewed.
If you can’t open your door, God still
wants you to stay indoors. Don’t waste
your time. Pray on your knees. Lift
your hands, dance indoors. Praise the Lord!
Blizzard conditions! How cool! No need to work.
Take that rest; pass the test. Oh I fear…
yes, most will will return to the muck.
Lie in the snow, for a while become an angel;
or just cosset those wings - don’t get buried
in all your troubles, mind your business -
God’s business. Don’t slip!
Don’t shovel a heart attack. Get your heart straight.
Enjoy your blizzard. Spring is flying with the geese.
When you stare at those snow flowers and trees
remember how wholesome and bright is life.
Maybe one day,
when silence is loud enough to hear,
we’ll open the door
instead of stacking bodies.
They ask, “Where’s God?”
when the blood hits the floor—
as if He hadn’t carved
light into every corner before.
But truth is,
He built the door.
And we locked it.
Stacked our fears like bricks
and blocked it—
then cried
when no light shined through.
This was never a flaw in the plan,
just a flaw
in the hands of man.
Given a garden,
we bought a shovel.
Given a Son…
we played holy telephone.
Game took too long.
Judge is dead.
And God didn’t fail—
but we found a way
to sell mirrors
and bend love,
just to justify hell.
God bought me
a five-dollar door.
And my thoughts
have me stuck on this side.
I punched a hole through it—
light shines through so properly,
stands no chance
against the dust in here.
Every once in a while,
somebody comes to visit me.
And they stack up.
Weather is overcast.
And the light becomes a mystery.
The cracks in the door
no longer glow.
Too many bodies
blocking the rays.
I can’t blame the builder
for how we fill these hallways
Winter Woes
There is snow and more snow and more on the way
As weathermen take over the networks today
There is a blizzard on the way
So the weathermen say
Excited to scare us today
The winds growl and whip
As we watch the snow blow and drift
Are those tombstones or our cars?
(Who wants to clear off the dead?)
Not me I will stay in my bed.
There is black ice tonight
Who are they trying to scare?
They warn drivers beware
Expect to flounder and flip
We scrape and brush and shovel again
The same the very next day
Oh winter woes
I think I froze my toes
Pat LeDuc
February 3, 2018
Violet’s blue spruce, which we bought this year
the same time we cut down our Christmas tree
has been planted in the yard and is doing beautifully.
The planting came with its share of celebration and festivity…
as all ten members of our family who were here
had a hand in transplanting Violet’s tree.
All ten people took a turn on the shovel…
which was our ultimate goal…
and answers that pressing question:
How many family members does it take just to dig one hole!
With every family member participating…
I can say with certainty…
we planted more than just a blue spruce
we planted a family tree.
We have given Violet and her tree the best start…
as all families try to do
and we pledge to do our best to raise that tree…
and little violet too.
To provide them both with sunlight, air and water..
nurture them through the summer heat and winter snow…
to give them both the care they need…
and enough space in which to grow.
We are happy to have planted in both of them
roots that will extend and solidify…
which will give them the strength and determination they need
to reach up to the sky
Cario, illinois
Not a heros row
Stood a linky tall black tree.
Grandfather??
Farther my eyes, rise
My father's father
First and last time I saw him
Tall black, he had a long back
Liken an african
darker than a "sudanese"
Darker than real dark chocolate.
Did I mention he was so tall soul tall
My first and only meeting of him
The year "1974"
We crossed the river
from Missouri to Cairo, Illinois
Mercy, me he was a tall tree
Ernest Lee
My father's cousin
Introduced us guess
my father hasn't seen his father for decades
Family secrets I know not why
My father's cousin said this is your grandson speak to him
This tall tree darker, blacker than me
Tall dark and quiet quiet
It was the bright of day,
but his stature was like midnight.
He had a shovel in his hand ?
dark man
Reach this skinny arm, hand
in his pocket and pulled out a coin
It was a quarter
Twenty five cents
And though this man my grandfather
Who am I never never, ever saw again
This not a sad story, (guess though should have kept the quarter)
This is not a negative story
I have no answers, middle risk of developing questions solely
WHY???
Who is this man
Soul, so tall body so tall arms,
torso so tall
How can this be
I see
This tall tall tall black tree
This was my Grandfather Ernest Lee
you may be wondering
why my first only and last meeting
of my grandfather
Why? were we at a cemetery
You see this first and only meeting, greeting my grandfather
And why was he holding a shovel?
My grandfather was a grave digger
I saw him alive on top of the earth
Shovel , in hand as he was digging through dirt dirt
And though this be
Minute first and only meet a greet
I stood before this tall black tree
My grandfather grave digger
ERNEST LEE
8/9/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
Naked are all the cottonwood trees
Arms are limbs waving leaves hands
Shaken clapping falling to the ground
~
Over November's plight bleached nights
Images surroundings bright-white
Icy spears hangs off houses roof tops
~
Temperatures spiral continue to drop
Snow shovel the snow it covers the streets
Plow the debris that nature leaves
~
Environment is quiet the sky's and grounds are
So white everything in sight is powdered in snow
Even the deteriorating leaves that cease to be,
~ naked are the cottonwood trees~
2/15/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
Shiela shrugs her shivering shoulders,
Shows she’s shunning her short shower;
Shy she is, but so shocking for Shirley to see
Shouting at her, “I should swim in the sea!”
Shirley’s shrill sound says, “No shampoo?”
Shoes off and shades on, sisters should go…
Sheila and Shirley swim swiftly side by side
Shouting, “Salty and spooky are the sea tides!”
Shirley and Shiela shake, swim, shudder, shake
Shiela says, “Sea tides shut and shift our shape!”
Suddenly, sisters are off without slippers on the sunshine,
Sharing shovel, scoping sandy seashells at the shoreline.
What will I wear today?
I do not feel good......about myself
The mirror ~~~~~~~oh how it taunts me!!!
teaseeeeeeeeees me!!!
I'm left wondering?????? why!
Why!
Why I can't---- I just can't stop eating,
these sweet things******They comfort me for tiny big moments.
Fill me up with cream pies & chocolate brownies
Stuff it down---- down deep where the pain is!
Bury it with a shovel Filled with candied Pecans______pat it down
As I roll my eyes O O O O oooh that cheese cake looks sooooo good!?!!
I'll wait for my wanted, until you all go home~~~~~I crave my alone--- lonely out of control time.... Uninterrupted/ without << judging--looks
What will I wear today? WHAT WILL I WEAR?
I reach for jeans that used to looook so good
Shirts that used to show off my chest and arms
Now the lower buttons straiiiiiining-----threatening to pop!
There they are my thirty year old Adidas powder blueee sweat pants
They fit me perfectly;0(
Greatest is the servant’s slave to the pope
the good looking still carries a dry throat
such living is washed with a costly soap
to break a jinx right from ancestral coat
value’s attached to every mess and rag
people of this class just live and manage
a rare light may shine but will face the lag
progress so dragged despite all courage
in wealth’s province, they are total outcasts
ride the train of existence with no seat
in another side the world runs so fast
as the weak attend poverty’s retreat
life has distinguished with its shovel
but the low still has something to marvel.