Mud Poems - Poems about Mud

I just want to be loved, For however long it lasts, It’s enough, I just need someone to lift me out of the mud. I just want to be loved, Even for five minutes, Passed over, I’m fine with being lost in the flood. I just want to be loved, For however long it lasts, It’s...

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We love playing in the street To escape the summer heat On this day we walk to the park Feeding chicks who stole our hearts Suddenly the weather did change We got caught shoes off in the rain No need to fret for the animals don’t Not upset we sing a rainy day song Splash splash near the duck pond They take...

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streams of mud we played in shallow streams of muck where there was no black, no white we were all mud-packed kids crusty-skinned little boys who knew the sludge would wash away when we dipped into the stream and splashed one another to reveal brown skin or pink touch football followed the mud spackling on a grass field with stone markers and oak trees with...

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Like crystal tears, soft petals dance and gleam, While dewdrops stitch stars on morning's silken dream. Each blossom spins gold wisdom from earth's mud, As heaven's jewels birth dawn's awakening bud. Bud blooms like the sun breaking through midnight's veil. Mud cradles pearls where phoenix tales prevail. Dream waters mirror souls...

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frenzied mud dauber porch railings are no longer we are the killers he bores hole in post angry about the railings what will they call home will he sound alarm will army wasps come to fight dejected he leaves...

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murky waters barren sludge and grunge until waterlilies rise AP: 1st place 2025 Posted on March 24, 2025...

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The driveway is now a swamp of wet muck, I fear driving any car but the truck, without four-wheel drive, you’re gonna get stuck; oh mud season has arrived. The snow is melting, half-flooding the ground, to step on the sound brings a squelching sound, all sorts of fallen branches have been found; oh mud season has arrived. The ski hill is empty,...

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“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood….” Robert, You let the split remain unresolved, and while we stand in awe, staring at your crossroads etched in gold and shadow, do you ever wonder what lay beyond the path you did not take? Even though you say, “I took the one less travelled by, And that has made all the difference.” Did the road arch upward, an unfamiliar melody...

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The grown Dove searches for mud to disparage its mother who granted them this pure white. Lord endow me with divine purpose, help dry this dirt on the earth a brown ocean, swelling, percolating. A window pane snaps from the pressure I remember the day I was born. I weep, I weep, I weep. A bird scurries ‘round my neck it is a little pigeon it...

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Rainbow ribbons in her hair Playing in the grass with no care Making mud pies in the dirt Skinny dipping in July no pants no shirt Playing hide and seek football too Finger painting pictures under sky blue Racing the wind playing in the rain Singing favorite songs pretending to have fame Riding in the back of an old pickup truck No seatbelt there...

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after spring rain children stomp in mud puddles splashing happily...

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At dawn, the farmers grasp the ploughs, And stroll towards the fields along with bullocks, ...

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Silk stocking filled with mud was Talleyrand. With the future of France held in his hand, He played kibitzer-informed cards with skill, Maneuvering a Congress to his will. There once was a Marquis named Talleyrand, Who loved ladies and a fine sarabande Smarts from ladies gained as a teen Helped him escape the guillotine, Surviving four regimes as he had planned. Vested in priestly...

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Low rounded slick mounds glistening silvered brown flesh riverlet veins drain ...

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Kapow! Here’s mud in your face! Poetasting rhymes, rhythms and nuclear waste. Playing in mud pits, kitchens and certainly laced Everyting that’s made . . . in this mysterious place. Prob’ly shouldn’t eat this mud in this pie, It may be somthin’ that’s all just a lie. Interesting reads and certainly flies . ....

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