Pits Poems - Poems about Pits

Life is like a bowl of pits From in the cherries someone spits And though there are some juicy bits, There aren’t quite enough. For often things go very wrong And even if you think you’re strong, You find it’s hard to get along When hit with painful stuff. I’m feeling just a little sad Because of incidents I’ve had. I know that life’s not...

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You dig pit after pit after pit. Then wonder why nobody comes around. The few that tiptoe into your eggshell world are only there to use you... In greener years you were just another cutter graduating to just another pit digger... Blood or not, I'll not dance in your self-inflicted pits.. I'll just sidestep the "hole" mess and say happy...

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Mass destruction is happening on a global basis. People are dying, killing, maiming, hurting. Sheila is determined to finish her masterpiece. Her love for her creation is on fire; she is in a frenzy. The chords and notes she plays are chilling. They are dangerous and provocative. Striking terror in the hearts of those who still have a soul. There is something...

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I'm stuck in a hole and cannot shout To ask for help to get me out Out of this hole of deep despair I feel no pressure while I'm stuck in there I feel a peace when I am on my own My thoughts belong to me alone The walls surround me like a glove The hole does not allow thoughts of...

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Dinosaurs D i s c o v e r e d Evolution Diplodocuses U n e a r t h e d Tar 10/29/2020...

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He did not teach me much,  he had rather take me out to lunch. Be honest all your days,                                                                             ...

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All Peaches Have Pits By: Tom 8-12-2019 Haiku Life is like a peach, Sometimes its warm and fuzzy. But some days, the pits. ...

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There once was a lady named Terry Who's favourite fruit was a cherry Till one day she bit Down hard on a pit Screamed bloody murder, quite scary!...

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People often say now I understand When they hear that I'm from Paree Not Gay Paree silly, but redneck In the heart of Tennessee I am the newest style of hairdressers Here to lay out all the facts I no longer work on the tops of heads But straight out of the pits It all happened when I got bored With the every day...

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Poet's Dream, Lover's Lament, Loss Echoes Into Dark Pits Poet's dream, lover's lament and loss echoes into dark pits life assaults us with its darkest, shocking hits. Sadness hangs its tentacles into our longest held desires shooting burning embers out of devastating fires. Upon the highest mountains we climb just to see our souls fate delivers deep misery written in its...

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anxiety, care, corruption, creation, destiny, environment, rainforest, CHERRY-PITS AND FOGGY AIR© Miseries mount on high If only I had that again Too little too late too much Life’s no bowl of cherries And the rain fell hard today! Skies sheathed in dust and smog Pollutes the once green terrain below The ‘fresh’ air demotes to shallower breaths Intakes ‘tanked’ to partings of out...

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There once was a lady named Terry Who's favourite fruit was a cherry Till one day she bit Down hard on a pit Screamed bloody murder, this Terry! © Jack Ellison 2015...

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The outer expression of hatred comes from the depth of my past, Eating the love shown and shined on me and captured by the pitiful memories, Each day is mourned, never healing but pressing out the brokenness, In the pit of my hate, the encapsulated heart beats to the uneven beat. No one can began to imagine the pain...

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Inside scrapings of darkness how restless and doomed, the bellow crashing in like an agonized moon; the tunnel hears blood whooshing in pits full of rain, hurling damn imaginings of her fetus’ pain, wails rip through the stained window and grinds near right lung, heart reeks for a babe frozen knowing breath is gone; if I could pluck her memories from uterine wall, to touch sun’s glint...

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Our story takes place in the mid sixteen hundreds, Filled with (not so) fresh corpses and newly beloveds. The stench of Black Death had choked all of London, Moulding its streets into plague ridden dungeons. As parents and children lay weeping and rotting, Behind closed doors the perverts were plotting. A young married man named Edward C. Brock Felt his dear...

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