Numerals Poems | Examples

You Saw Anew

      Sundial numerals illuminate 
      Knowing noon narrow shadow arrow strikes
      Flicks ‘round corners of maze elaborate 
      Heraldic daffodil, dormant out psychs 

      
      Lion, amber assured stride resolute
      Teams beside mine, admires canter cloud bounce
      Trembled meshing manes make brushstrokes astute
      Abstract turns apparent, rewound amounts


      Labyrinth lane secures our fears slumbering
      Canary chortle performs audacious 
      Honey wine celebrates when Summer brings
      Walls torched in lofty laughing blazes


      Flung flaxen, fertile wheat fields’ wispy waltz
      Scorched xanthe seeds multiply dream results






     24th July 

    Yellow Leo

Renaissance Landmark Clock

gold leaf Renaissance clock
a rare but unique landmark beauty,
giving us the time in Roman numerals
who can read such a clock?
such intricate details
her clockmaker was brilliant

The Quest

Most of us deviate from the natural, 
Some realize the objective of the plurals, 
Few among us just run after the numerals, 
A very few recognize the morals. 
A virtue in peace in particular, 
Remains ever true and non occasional, 
A vice in actions as undertaken proposal, 
Surely paves the way for quick dismissal. 
Individual display seems brutal, 
Don't forget the world is mortal. 
Forever is a myth and abnormal, 
But imagination is beyond approval. 
Go far and beyond local optimal, 
Your courage is certain and unconditional.

Past 3

When it is past three in the morning
and you see it blinking in red digital numerals,
and when you feel older than death itself,
then you curl at the corners of your life
like that threadbare rug
you sent to the thrift shop
or the mask the devil wears on Sundays.
Fraying your threads
in the dead-end of the sheets
only the sweat of a forgotten dream
binding you to a silent ticking.

Holocaust Memorial Day

It may look skin deep but it goes all the way to a soul 

A scar on society and the skin of an innocent 

numerals meant to identify the person 

yet remove them from humanity 

Done in the name of ideology  

And the politics of bigotry 

If such a thing as religion exists 

These crimes must have made the angels weep 

And deities drop to their knees in shame 

Do not be led by politics or religion 

Or the words in a book 

Trust your heart.

Time

Time passes tick tock tick tock,
Second by second,
Hour by hour,
Watching the hands go round,
A white face with numerals,
It's what tells you the time,
Pendulum swinging back and forth,
It could put you in a trance,
Ornate or plain they all tell the time,
Large or small, freestanding or wall,
Time just carrys on,
Tick tock tick tock

Roman Numerals

X marks the spot if it’s V plus V
Or what XC needs to add up to C.
To the left of L or perhaps the right
There’s a difference some would consider slight.

Once the C’s add up, then it’s time for D
Which will last ‘til M’s a necessity.
Then it’s fun to challenge a boy whose path
May be one that follows the joys of math.

Placing X and I, L and M and C
To make sense brought smiles to both him and me
So we stopped at the point when I’d taught him plenty
And he knew MMXX was 2020!

When Time Is Broken

The clock’s hands no longer move,
rusted with waiting and heavy with
oxidised breath. Time is no longer

golden but iron turned red with
longing. Ire bubbling below
a patience wearing thin. The

watch’s face is blank, no numerals
guarding its perimeter keeping count.
Under scratched glass, frozen hands 

are circled by invisible sharks with teeth 
two: one fang long, slicing seconds into 
longer minutes; one tooth short, left 

hanging like a child’s arm half raised 
in question. When alone, time is 
corroded by memories that won’t 

exist.

Misplaced Note

I'll be shouting "Enu enu",
They be shouting "here he goes again"
Laying my lines
My verses be like lay lines
Providing energy,
Words sound like curses
 when you read them backwards,
Now rewind that; repeat my words!
Let them play in your head
Feel them in your heart,
Hymns Like a lullaby
Putting you to sleep.

Burning notes I hate paper! 
saving notes i love money,
Rearranging numerals from levels
Decoding messages,
Encryptions so complicated 
I can't put them in words!
Rather hierarchical form
From fall to the rise, To the fall again!
The ups and downs
Crooked is how it be,
Screams from below
Trumpets blow from up above!
The great tournament 
I wonder which side will win?

While in earth: deep in the jungle
trapped in a cage, 
transferred from all over the equator
My talent as amusement, 
can any one free me from this circus 
A clown all dressed up!
Another beautiful day at the theme park
Roller-coaster ride the fast lane I can't comprehend,

Shuttered Windows

UNSUPPORTED CODE 
`Shuttered windows

The absence of any corporeal presence 
Is counterbalanced by the ethereal essence
Of the Human Spirits still in residence
In forlorn foyers and empty rooms

Vacant eyes peer in unspoken plaint
through dust hazed windows...
seeking the solace of eternal memories
Of long passed children…and weeping widows

Clock long stopped pon dusty mantel
Hands posed o’er numerals Roman
No longer giving...and long past caring
Of the duty of time and chiming of man

Dust motes that caper in fairy dance fashion
Forming in miniature...galaxies and universes
Inquisitive rays of sunshine that leak through 
And peek through the regimented rows
Of the slats in tidily ordered lines 
In sombre repose behind
…`Shuttered windows...

Alarm Clock

Broken clocks with wooden blocks
And the power is out again.

Cold burning hands lifted up with a little
sacrificial parenthetical nonsense

"Yuletide noreaster winding down"
Of course it will be cold - it always is. 

And there will be red numerals flashing 
in the morning. 

Isaac is having his nightmares again,
Feeling like a tied down goatskin.

maybe it is just that Old Testament slang. 


Some say single syllable saliva.
Some say killing time on Mount Moriah.

Now a fifth of gin in the pillowtop linen,
May be worse a sin than to kill kin.

And the blankets are tangled thickets,
The alarm clock is tuned to AM radio.

Chin Chip Chop But No Chillis Not Yet

Pinprick ideology is a shatter of soul. Pins play placing polio poorly. And poodles arrive in vast kaleidoscopic numerals to bring numerous numbers to many studious tables. Tablets take hold of fortresses and a midway huff is a billy goat gruff throwing acorns at traffic on the A29. Appropriate format for lions who reach to paw at breads, beads butter, baboons, boars, books and boys arriving for a sow ester of the apex of rain combustion. A party they say. But a mongoose is not to be mitigated on a mitigation. Nor a template of explosive excrement sizzling in the morning. But Burt does diesel dance. And a sizzled hooded wooded kiss in a skirt of canopy. Hahaha now blunder balls ballet. Hahaha xx love baboons birthday xxxxx coniferous z that p y a report on all the things xxxxx z teapot z

Old Friendship

Old Friendship rusts not 
12 years why this number and not 13 years
I don`t know perhaps I believe in good and less
God digits numerals but nevertheless 
I shall not see another twelve years, and that is ok
I have lost friends in that time and some I have
Neglected mainly because I found them tedious
They had nor grown and continued to tell 
Racist jokes and held the view of the white man
And his culture. I remember Tom, the kindest of men 
he was a struggling actor who never got a break
but he never stopped dreaming.
I do not often think of death, Tom and I we had
Much in common, but I have been given time to write 
My will do there will be no arguments.
I`m also a poet never got my fifteen minutes, yet
Work will circle forever on the internet unread but 
Not erased. We were dreamers Tom and me.

The Beauty

~The Beauty~

The shining black snake, 
monster of dimension’s loss, 
tattooed with roman numerals of molten gold, 
perfect in place, 
fluid and immaculate; 
you are what you eat, 
he devours time mercilessly, 
it’s influence on the mind, 
drifts ethereal, 
whispering from the grasp of thought’s illicit and invisible hand.

The hour glass drips tears of fire, 
flaring bright and disappearing without a trace of their presence, 
the glass topples as the snake slithers past, 
a three dimensional depiction of a twisted figure eight, 
now lays upon my canvas...
we have only interpretations of breath; 
within the stasis of our time.






©David Nickle Read 2015
All Rights Reserved By The Author

Happy Birthday To Me

Just 3 days before the earth completes its evolution
calendar numerals with maximum numbers
one of which is the peak found in all 12 cycles
and the other, the highest of all months

It’s a day when birth among all things
becomes the protocol officer to nature
and a new life full of promise and expectations
results from the shading of history’s skin

A day when 
the sun chills with the living matters
of the hills before going to bed
when the clouds hold hands in same rhythm
marveling to an added blessing the earth just received
when the tides of the waters rise up high
in complete salute to this majestic new entry

He is a pace setter, a trail blazer and a king
he breaths out the commanding charisma of a leader
housing a thousand qualities of a champion
and wearing a million features of a god

From three hundred and sixty five rotations
one becomes slower and closer to the sun
and its natural satellite rigid in awe
all because the legend has arrived
happy birthday to me.

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