Salvage Poems - Poems about Salvage

Why is death a loss?

                                      The days feel like years
            

Salvage A Whir

Stair carefully dear into the unknown abyssal void.

Pier was once past and now rotted and rictus, petrified.

Hue manatee threaded ten den and garnet.

Ruby teardrops and crimson Damascus drips droplets,

like a leak key faucet in the dead of night.

Scarlet necklace four by one who did sow much,

kismet of my bloodlust and neck crow man sea.

Fools are

Salvage Yard Freeway-

Salvage yards hand me down
 throttle starters transmission brawls 
Clutch drive spent wheels ravages 
Four-wheel drive, five-speed Savages, 
all this going on in the Salvage junkyard tow yard
Just 500 feet from the freeway?

2/21/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2022©

Salvage

"Salvage"


Salvage the fixating salvation 
unfurling from the wreckage
of a numb world twisted inside
treasure climbs swimming 
the ladder from the deep of all things 
reaching upwards travelling in a new time
of melting morpheme moments overlapping 
dissolved differences, tight discrepancies peppering the salt stings 
something honest and clean scours more pure 
the bleeding jetsam some kind of

Soul Salvage

Am I humble enough to say,
I still wonder where to go?
The path that I must travel,
Surely, someday, I will know ...

I build my sand-walled castle,
For what more can I do?
And the sea erodes my workings;
I must turn my gaze to you.

My mind meanders aimlessly,
Attempts in vain to trace,
The outlines of your majesty -
The meaning of

Blind Eye Salvage

Here we are again at  a point with no vantage

Trying my hardest to see your point while that finger I see you point

Feel like im at a disadvantage while you tell me im only here to take advantage

But baby I love you and you love me too!

So our viscious cycle recycles as we turn

Salvage Trip

Salvage Trip


Melancholy shook her hips when she saw his little ship
A four seater didn't exactly make for an exciting trip
Still she shrugs all a board
Ship ahoy on his slight sword
Ships a sea twenty waves "have we embarked" she quips

connie pachecho

8/21/17

Preposition Poem At the Junkyard

On one sultry August day
In a clearing in the woods
Within a long delay
for salvaged auto goods
Amid decaying vans, under glaring sun
High above one ant, homebound, on the run...
   Along a rugged trail
   of micro hill and dale
   Between pebbles and sprigs
   Over shards and twigs
  

Salvage Life

Torn and tattered, broken and bashed, but never defeated I salvage life.
To give up is unacceptable, to run and hide despicable to me so I salvage life.
Times are not always good and circumstances not always fair I am happy to live.

Happy to say my pain won't win.

My smile gives me strength, a kind word to

Salvage

"SALVAGE"
My life was full of hard knock questions
Looking for answers in fickle reflections
Fishing for a mainland crew of three 
There was always the romance of the sea. 

But lonely sailors dock for beer and bed
Mixing shame and content, I got a full head
With company some views are never mellow
My favorites include a vision from The

Salvage

Number 35

SALVAGE


Ideas and thoughts
I borrow all
Prime a new plot
Old deeds fit call




Leon Enriquez
24 January 2015
Singapore

'salvage'

The spark somehow has 
disappeared
Everything has lost its shine
Like a lighthouse without a light 
To show direction 

Does it mean that it will not come 
back?
Do we float around on clouds that 
Appear so fluffy 

That we pretend everything is fine?
Drifting along on a boat that’s sinking 
With no NSRI in sight –

Grab your life

Salvage

In a tunnel of lights
I see my life at the end
Burning a candle
Trying to handle
My ills and my past
Directing the cast
And I better move fast
Because this window will not last
If I believe in salvaging my past

Salvage

Through wisdom and control
fear a reluctant challenger...

Side with me my courage...
All fools banished to oblivion-

Trail blazer mighty warrior...
leading the charge...

heart and soul in formation...
Quill and scroll retrieved-

All time has led here...
poised and ready I believe-

born to be at the helm...
born to lead - lead alone-

one adviser trusted in time-
need not be pendulum of mind-

The darkness

Beyond Salvage

An old herbal gard’ner turned bard
dedicated and well-versed
now works his pen from his backyard
in plants and poems immersed.

His choice nouns engender meaning
cleverly minted with scents.
Rare verbs gingerly gleaning
from time’s savory essence.

Somewhat focused on composing
but nettled by a drizzle;
unexpected down-hosing
causes this poet to fizzle.

Lo! His inspiration now gone
like the ink upon his page.
Mrs. Bard calls from

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