Sediments Poems | Examples

Advisory for Adversary

The sun unfolds, precisely peeking through
the light of stars, dominating ink-spilled nights. 
Its rays graze softly on blooming wounds 
as sirens set off warnings of incoming dunes.

O vulnerable soul! I pray you stay quiet,
hold dearly onto the kaleidoscopic life 
slowly flowing out of your diluted sight. 
O transient time! I pray you stay still for a while, 
and let the sediments settle— 
as the river carries away what's old and vile.

There will be another dawn.
When the sun unfolds again, 
its light grazes softly on wounds withered with time. 
As sirens hail warnings of unknown threats, 

O powerful mind! I pray (and know) you'll never fret.

Observation

Observation

Dig Up All 
The Sediments
Under The Seas
Make Them All
Frothy And
Opaque.

Pour All The
Cool Waters
Under The Trees
Then Watch How
They Run To
The Lake.

Clouds Burst &
Starbursts...
They Know What
They Like...
They Didn't 
Need Me To
Delight 'Em.

Rain Moves
The Mountains.
We've Got This 
Thing Covered!
All The Wrongs
We're Gonna'
Write 'Em.

-Gray Squirrel

05-24-2025

Days Bygone

Sediments are yet to be cleared
From the window sill of the days bygone
Handprints of an owner's ignorance
Remains carved on the glass alone.

Fossils of a lively refuge
Still masked by dust veils
Home, where once honey grew
Now marks the tombstone of loves's grave.

Novelty springs under 
The eternal fountain of life
The creatures of days bygone 
Stop to greet the future hive.

The flame of creativity is born from unknown and daring depths

The flame of creativity is born from unknown and daring depths,
where desires and thoughts intertwine with dreams still untainted,
each spark from the free spirit is a triumph of flight over fears,
opening new skies, breaking the heavy chains of the objectified world,
but when the product of creativity touches the ground of culture and convention,
it settles, it calms, like a river losing its tumult in quiet valleys,
under the weight of time and hurried glances that no longer see essence,
in the sediments and memories of past and forgotten worlds,
and yet, somewhere in the deep silence of the soul, the flame still flickers,
waiting for the moment to rise again, to sing in vibrant and lively colors,
in a universe that demands neither explanations nor approvals, only existence.

A Hollow Place

(“A Moment of Grace aka The Empty Mirror”, 2024, original encaustic)

A Hollow Place

Sometimes it seems that who I am
Is nothing more than the dripping sediments
At the edges of a hollow cave
All the stalactites and stalagmites
Of a lifetime of experience
Calcified into a personality.
I may fool myself and even others sometime
With the wonders these shapes create
But in truth they are the mere dregs
Of all those formative years.
And what I’m really left with
When all the lights are out
And all the visitors gone 
Is just the hollow place inside.

(11/24/24)

Dripping

No healthy oils
but beef dripping kept
solid in a white enamel 
can with a lid
in a cupboard under
the oven. Reused until
too dark and heavy 
with sediments, 
the dregs flavored 
the best chips.

Mothers carried 
the war year's frugal habits
into the fifties and so
it was with mine. 
My Mum could make
a feast out of almost nothing
and gave little 
to the bin. 

There was an observed 
formality for meals,
all of us had to sit 
at the table, elbows
at the side and recite
the customary grace.
No getting up until excused,
no talking with your mouth
full, no reaching across
someone else's plate,
every request had to be
prefaced or end
with a ‘please’.

Something of the sacred
gave dignity to the rituals 
of preparation 
and consumption of food. 
It wore the presence 
of a gift. Not sure if today's 
abundance is better
or worse - no matter -
as we eat whatever
and whenever in haste,
plugged in and sedated
by a mind-numbing choice,
our progress is measured 
in waste.

Magnification

Close up you can see the colossal amounts of energy
it took to grow this plant from a seed
An even closer look through the microscope,
inside lies the complete genetic information
Images of texture I can almost feel
Spikes that pop up prickly come alive
I have no limits to magnification
I can see vibrant stars dead center
Elements of sunshine tan and green
Sediments of gill filaments in V-shapes
Arrows in grooves with silver linings 
Natures details to resemble filigree
Mucus glowing its sickle-shaped petal lobes
Milky sap growing within, aligning 
milk vines and perfect pinwheels 
Nature’s own flower arrangements
Under a microscope

The Niger In Our Delta

Noon, we’re marching on our fields
Inwards, our river brings forth her blessings
Grin, while you’re mining off our seas
Explore, don’t wash the sediments off our shores  
Reflect, while you smile to repay our deeds

Don’t dim the sunny side of our land
Endangered, but our sons strive with pains
Lost, but we found the light to illuminate our paths
That we may perchance find the magic wand
Against the enemies of our souls and spirits

Chorus

Shore lights buttress the sky's 
vaulted dark and shed
a solemn hush along
the river's reach.
Set upon a calm, 
fishing boats drift
the night towing lines
of vicious hooks.

Below them, the sediments
of lifetimes lay in secreted 
scores cast in a language
lost to the ear. In the quiet
of evenings you can almost
hear the river breathe.
Something rises to speak,
falling silent as if an affliction 
has made what 
dwells there, mute.

In the distance, small fish 
splash the surface pursued
by predators lunging up
from deep below. Then everything
chokes to a quiet.
The river flows on
and on, sealing in mud
the sad chorus
of unspoken sounds.

Rinse Clear POTD

Mind – a pool, deep and arcane,
Needs to be cleared n' cleansed from time to time
In the sinuous course of life,
Pause awhile to peer into the depths.
Over the still waters, lies a layer of scum.
At the bottom is settled,
Toxic sediments of hate,
The residue of burnt dreams
Of unsavory passions

If unattended, in this slushy mass of filth
Maggots may breed,
Eating into the flesh
Poisoning the vital serum
Pumped through the veins

Purge the dross
Flush out the dirt
Rinse it clean
And feast on the sparkle,
Of clear waters
Springing from the well heads of love!

Feb.19.2023

The Clearing Poetry Contest
Sponsor- craig cornish

The Voyage

Spatial wanderings, an assembly of yogis and meditators 
they breathe as silently as the moon when it taps out 
her morse code then quiets into position. 
Watching the stars as they shape into view 
they become as connected as the constellation, dot to dot they thrive,  
recognizing one another by the quizzical movements of each soul. 
Illumined by aerial thoughts they become cloaks of light 
streaming down a rite of passage as unique as their un-cloned, 
celestial bodies. 
Layer upon layer of awareness and enlightenment 
we sediments of earth are nothing more than flimsy kites in the wind. 
After we have closed eyes and filled our hungry hearts, we are ready 
to re-enter and live inside this malleable encrusted place   
we call earth. 

December 4, 2022

Our Relationship In Future

she's kind towards me, she's so nice;
    and I'm sincere to her as well,
        we are in something more than love,
    what are our dreams, it's hard to tell.

and last night, outside college gate
    we met and she said she's afraid
        about my love and our careers:
    dreams price by detachment'll be paid.

retreat is not good for my dreams,
     only to get her skin for love:
          skin whose pleasures ain't eternal,
     eroding derms are all above.

fire and it's works are my int'rest,
    I want to be a volcanist;
        she wants to increase production
    for people, being a botanist.

I've to spend my life in rocks
    by watching curves and sediments;
        It's hard for me to be with her
    checking insects, impediments.

so, we should not be one in life,
    she should marry a botanist,
        who loves her and her green wheat farms,
    for love who's not an arsonist.

love and marriage are not the same,
    we'll be in love though not in arms,
        whene'er we'll meet aft that in life,
    we'll be happy, not without charms!

September 23, 2022

Cogito Ergo Sum

I'm not notable reader of the rich Latin language,
That treasures within its realm mountainous barns of knowledge…
Thoughts and philosophies, like symphony, around-the-clock,
To this ocean, like sea animals, for full refuge, flock...

Of all, like sediments, one who has settled in my mind,
And floats to the surface, like unfettered feather inter-twined;
Is Rene Descartes – French, who’d taught - cogito, ergo sum,
That altered my concepts, to rationalism, to succumb...

I think, therefore I exist; no existence otherwise?
Is this very concept, yet, as highest as the great skies?
Accessible knowledge; test of best methodical doubt,
Doubting the very existence; whether it's flood or drought...

Fond rebuilding; single-lined philosophy; so modern!
When I teach it to my students they seem problem-ridden;
To me, yet, this phrase and philosophy are august fun,
Like irrational thought battles lost early, are now won...


10 January 2022 
Latin Lessons Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Margarita Lillico

An Excavation

The sun-soaked meandering valley of my lucent life
Drained by the cadence of elated stream swirling
Around the cluster of glimmering gold nuggets
Carved out of life’s valued golden moments.

With the sailing sediments of euphoria dislodged
The sparkling pieces roll on the turbulent time
In the torrent of the cloud-burst falling sky
Flow to the flood plain of obscurity far.

In search of transported treasure trove eroded
Buried beneath the strata of stagnant time past
I wade through the marsh of submerged existence
Excavating the layers of memory in tranquil twilight.

In the light of the setting sun fading so fast
Each time the surged tide of turmoil ebbs out
I exhume the gems of memory from sands of time  
Retrieve the gilded instants I had once lived to adore.

___________

June 30, 2021
Title Chosen : An Excavation
Contest : This Or That, Vol. 4
Sponsor : Edward Ibeh

Bubble Eddy Birth

bubbles...
expand and rotate due to
heats energies ballooning within...

changing in three dimensions at once and...
imaging as trefoil knots...stretching time-space
conservation limits till...the bubble gives birth

to smaller spheres each...with a trefoil expanding...
as a temporary three dimensional...time 'eddy' being that
manifests change as...sediments...with respect the currents of time


stan's sand

• Short Sediments Poems
• Famous Sediments Poems
• Best Sediments Poems
• Read Sediments Poems
• Long Sediments Poems
• Sediments Quotes