Plows Poems | Examples

Catastrophic Fuse

I am so inflamed a blizzard is falling,
every toxin taken in I’ve been stalling. 
Ice rains as magma plows the ground,
a lethal storm arrives without a sound. 

Laying the land to waste in an instant,
it is best to let a disaster stay dormant. 
There’s nothing to grasp once it is loose,
you touched off a catastrophic fuse. 

Weather you could never prepare for,
should have thought about that before.

With fury next to impossible to diffuse, 
be careful the words that you choose.
This pattern of rage is not intermittent,
it will do what it does never quite spent. 

Frozen daggers wield a temper unbound
such icy eyes a Cat 6 is now crowned.
Uncontrolled smite is now overflowing
devastation is all that is left standing.

Sea Change

A tusked wolf dips its paw into the brine
the sea is its restless mother.
A proto creature, its bones already growing
razorback fins and horns, it must seek a shell
to hide beneath. The fanged manatee dies for love.
Before the porpoise leapt, before the whale shipped
its gray prow,
Jekyll and Hyde clawed each other
through a gibbosity of flesh. Where the skin flew,
rat tails grew gills and jagged jaws, while
blind behemoths burst out from small pods.
a saline transitioning that even now
wave-washes my naked feet, as the sea
plows me deep -
and does this cold moonlight reveal
the hidden talons of my ever-flowing father?

WAR'S PANDEMIA

Pandemic war plows
are now uprooting sown peace;
her fruits left to rot:-

THE ULTIMATE NATURE OF WAR

THE ULTIMATE NATURE OF WAR

Sown love reaps world peace,
While sown hate will reap world war:
Power its sower:-
Sharers of love will sow peace:
Profiteers of war, sow hate:-

World peace uprooted,
War’s deforestation plows
World devastation:-
Armageddon coming:
God plowing us a new day:-

Be ever mindful,
War is a power monger’s
Child of destruction;
And will be chastised by God:
Its navel giver uprooted:-

A Deer Stalks

Night stampedes wind-horses.
I edgily negotiate the sharp corners
of swerving shadows.

The hind hoof of a doe
slaps the reflection of my startled face,
the Chevy twitches, plows on -
headlights rake the earth.

From a rear-view mirror
I see myself prone on the asphalt,
terrified limbs still stamping
over a shell-shocked mind.

The deer chased its bones,
disappearing into the sight unseen.

Night dropped its iron curtain.

Later,
I sleep dead-eyed
behind a spinning wheel.

Spring Counts the Dead

I cannot bear it
I have blocked out daylight
from my bedroom.

A beautiful Spring is coming,
but the dead come with it.

Every year bodies slide into the earth,
the daffodils sprout,
unearthed trumpets blare -
an ominous silence.

Here in Ohio, the Miami Indians
built mounds
in the form of a serpent.
They understood that Spring
was both hungry and dangerous.
The elders were resigned.
They knew that Spring
arrives with a newly sharpened knife.

The warming season, so mild and welcoming,
quickly plows under another winter,
and death works the plow.

Season Change

The house is colder now
  as autumn sheds its leaves
  the push-pull  falls wildly beneath the plows
  along the edges of the gutters and eaves.
perhaps because the house is emptied
  of all the faded color hues
  when your heart lit the entryways
  to the lifetimes shared, here
with you.

I watch the color palette change
  chlorophylls leaking out in the icy cool
  carotenoids producing yellow, orange, and brown 
  the corn mazes shriveling in dry stalked spools,
the old weathered maple blushing to scarlet red frowns,
  the great oak in its russet brown undress
  the aspen and poplar shaking yellow fringed gowns,
  autumn chill alive and stirring north and west
within the colors spilled down.

I feel it in my body
  my bones and muscle ache with each step
  closing door and window with revelry
  to the change to which I become adept,
holding the season's lost memories
  tight upon my face of laughter and tears wept
  a last embrace within the season's pace
  and final goodbye
to the magic had. with all its grace.

Good Ole Days?

Bright sunlight tumbles from the crystal blue,
while contemplation plows my fertile mind.
The moon comes early, making its debut.
Dark night will settle, leaving day behind.

These sights implore my consciousness to think,
since days can see their joy sometimes abate.
Such times like these can be a tasteless drink.
As darkness falls, I tensely sit and wait.

Such times have come and gone in rapid fire.
My strained heart wants to know my life is good.
I strive to see the joy through muck and mire,
Remembering the fun of my boyhood.

I’ve heard it all my life in diverse ways.
Are these the times we’ll call the Good Ole Days?

boustrophedonic

“boustrophedonic”


a cow plows across the page and
speech does as pausing without
never stops except to catch its
me to Greek that’s but breath

The Face of Hope

Over a hundred years of miracles
     dating back well before statehood
   Pioneers who made the desert bloom
     Though no one thought they could 

   Fighting off constant terror attacks
     plows in one hand, rifles in the other
   Working eighteen hours a day, six days a week
     One for all and all for one, everyone a brother  

   Rising from the ashes of the Nazi holocaust
     six million maimed, tortured, killed
   Three short years later, declared a state
     that only they and God willed 

   650,000 Jews, half of them new refugees
     armed with hammers, saws, and brooms
   fought off the attacks of Egypt, Syria, Jordan
     Lebanon, Iraq, and the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem

   All while taking in 875,000 Jewish refugees from Arab lands
     resettling them in threadbare quarters
   Today, boasting a world-class economy and over 9 million people
     Israel is the world's face of hope, her story never equaled

Graveyard Cook

The short order cook is getting delirious at five in the morning
Beads of sweat showing under his funny hat
As he stares blankly at the eight new orders on the wheel,
And wonders when the drunks
	Will all have enough and go home.
	I’m one of the drunks
		From a short order night
	The band was hot
		And the girls were swingin
But alas I finally walk out with no easy over lady.

	And the waitress,
		Scrambled yellow blond,
	Takes my order
			And adds it to the wheel.
More beads of sweat from the short order cook.
And he yells
	“HERE’S YOUR ORDER STUPID”
	to the scrambled yellow waitress.
		“DON’T CALL ME STUPID!”
	But she knows
He’ll give her
biscuits and gravy after it’s all over.
	But in the meantime
	It’s the drunks
	On the other side of the counter
	From this short order night

			Eggs over easy
			Pigs in a blanket
			Hash browns and toast
			Heartache and coffee

	Yea, the short order cook plows on
	And knows
	That the nine orders on the wheel 
	Will not cook themselves.


	He’s been on the other side too.

A Good Education

A good education,

Is the one that patiently, tenderly, but persistently plows one's mind 

As to prepare it to receive the seeds of virtue, justice, and truth

Which, with the passing of time, will grow into trees of knowledge that 

The taste of their fruits would exalt Man and glorify the divine! 






© Demetrios Trifiatis
       25 April 2023

Horses

Horses! Poor victims of man's inhumanity.
How many had their lives destroyed without pity?
Drag carts in dark mines without seeing the daylight.
Charge in battles, inhale gases, die in a fight.

Worn out carrying plows for men who disparage.
For the travelers, pull heavy horse-drawn carriage
Under the blazing sun, the rain, or in the haze;
And for silly, heartless tourists still nowadays.

You strongly curse these exploiters, powerful nag!
I read in your dreams, thoughts, even in your fibers,
And guess how you see your heaven ideally.

In arenas, these sinister people, in rag
And despair, join circus tamers and bullfighters
Condemned to kill each other perpetually.

This New Year

May blood vessels of affection amalgamate within!
And nucleus of compassion, like a fish and its bin…
Enabling ethical thoughts and words, and deeds coruscate,
Like sparks of virtues from fires of wisdom permeate...!

May evils that muddy the pools of purity give way,
To the crystal clear stream of goodness that would come to stay!
Wars and woes like cruel beasts before wildfire flee away,
Peace, like the rhythm of the universe, hearts, and minds, sway...!

When friendship by hatred is broken, may mercy flow in!
Bombs, cannons and missiles turn plows and people's hearts win;
May anything that leads the common human folks to sin,
Like husks and chaffs turn ashes in the fire of God's grin...!

Acceptance in place of rejection, may miracles bring!
Optimism in lieu of pessimism all evil views fling;
May discontentment, weakness, ingratitude, and sadness,
Bloom, this entire year, into bouquets of true happiness...!!!


01 January 2023

My Snow Loving Cat

Can't you see the big snow flakes coming down                                                 The wind is blowing the snow on frozen ground                                                   Sitting at the door are you wanting to go out                                                             How loud the word no do you want me to shout 

It's piling up real fast making big snow banks                                                     Staying in this warm house you should give thanks                                                One paw out that door and you would quickly disappear                                                      Wait until the Mr. plows a path to make the way clear  

Please stop fussing while I wrap you in this warm sweater                                   And you may not like it but this hat makes it even better                                Your the one snow cat that wants to go out in this blizzard                                   It sure would make me happy if you would just reconsider 

Author Eileen Clark 2022

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