Shed Poems - Poems about Shed

Have you ever wondered what’s kept in a real blokes shed? I bet you thought them full of junk, but I’m telling you instead. I’ve had the privilege to peruse such a shed one night, It’s owned by mate Kenny, who opened up my eyes. There was carpet on the floor, compressors by the door, Nuts and bolts, fishing rods,...

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It clung like ivy, patient, green with hunger — wrapped itself around every beam, crept beneath shingles, rooted in the cellar’s damp breath. I mistook it for the house itself — fed it rain, fed it dust, let it climb my windows and press its leaves to the glass until I could no longer see daylight. But rot loosens quietly. One morning the vines lay...

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It's criminal what women'll do to keep a man down on the farm shed false tears strategy I fear pull the wool turn on the charm smiling all the while trap him wrap him twist him round her little finger and insist it seems should he linger longer than appropriate she deems for him to appreciate 'til he's tongue-tied up in knots with all those forget-me-nots keeping her...

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The People I Shed I swallowed myself whole a jagged glass in the throat of night, shards carving the shape of someone else. There was a girl who wept like winter rivers, whose heart cracked open, spilling cold and unkind, drowned in the hunger of being too much and never enough. I pressed my face to the mirror’s cruelty, tried to recognize...

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The Shed ...was Granddad's before he died. And now its loneliness reached out to the boy from the shaded, shuffling shadows that shushed the sheltered garden. They pulled, they tugged at his guilt-filled absence until he slink-slunked through the greenery, standing to attention outside its wooded frame. It had been Grandad’s domain, his citadel, built from leftover bits of wood and insulation collected,...

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Open your mind once again and shed some tears for a world full of pain Shed some tears for the children that die and for the mothers that openly cry Shed some tears for needless death in war not really knowing what they are fighting for Shed some tears for the people with no home the unwanted that...

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Welcome friends, I know you will be most excited with tonight's special guest that we have invited. So, let's give a round of applause and a cheer. Punctuation's star, Exclamation Point, is here.    Welcome.  It's good to see you, Exclamation Point. Yes!  Let's do it, Johnny!  I just got out of the joint! My goodness, I was going to say, you're looking...

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Mice in the shed, she demanded I do something. I found three mice, surprisingly easy to catch, like they had been saved. Living on old newspapers and stillborn manuscripts not much of a diet. Kill them, she demanded. I put them in a shoebox made a few holes and gave them some bread crumbs. In the tall grass, by the road verge I let them out, and that...

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I don’t know how many times I have shed my old skin, like a moth seeking light under the moonlit sky, Leaving behind pieces of myself that no longer knew my name, shadows of a silent past, I wandered through labyrinths of memories, seeking answers in echoes lost in time, Wondering if change is just another facet of...

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dark, musty old shed in the far corner of the school playground another recess transfixed by the dark texture of the wood all at once alone and home...

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How must it be for them, those without a place to shed their tears, Those who smile at the world but melt inside, Like a candle giving light, only to extinguish into darkness, Bearing the weight of an unease that remains silent and hidden. No quill transforms their pain into ink, No brush dissolves their sorrow into color, No sitar string...

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I’ve got 700 pounds of love to shed. What’s that? You didn’t hear me? Listen closely to what I’ve said: I’ve got 700 pounds of love to shed. Watch the way I move, Listen to my words. Feel the even flowit comes and goes, Teaching me what I need to know. What form will this love take? How will it shape me as it...

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Perhaps primordial humans have fewer illusions to shed, fewer chains to break, While we, in the labyrinth of modernity, drown in waves of deceptive teachings, A soul must be ready to let go of everything, not just fleeting riches, But all the lies whispered to it, the entire brainwashing of society. One must leave behind false stories, free oneself...

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I shed tears every night, unseen, For dreams I’ve lost, for what has been. The silence speaks of wounds so deep, A restless soul that cannot sleep. Each tear that falls, a story untold, Of love, of pain, of days grown cold. I carry burdens no one can see,...

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Monday is coming..I can taste the dread.! a sacrifical Summit i see ahead.' The condemed has long snorted A magical power.? Dusty corners await now a'quiver to Devour' aquaintances are many, and friends will be few.' Times and a half times, once upon a time! (you were new) You've consulted the augeries, and laid out the bones Burned up the...

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