Short Calcified Poems
Short Calcified Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Calcified by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Calcified by length and keyword.
hunger gnaws haplessly
harvestless, stark, earthen womb
sparse amniotic fluid
vacant calcified corpses
emphysemic ether blooms
Candle wax drips calcified tears,
riptides of dreams burst boundaries;
Drops become circles never squares;
Out of the box locked in a freeze
with rough edges it aims to please;
There’s no hiding their benefit,
claws can rip apart arteries;
That’s the magick of a misfit.
Crawling to each nanosecond
A descent calling to teach me
Another Plato lesson
Lessening the agony as for
Before what was aforementioned
Fragments of talents calcified
And classified as otherworldly
Unbelievable and that which walks
With Giants along the wastelands
Unwelcomed......
The day stretched out
drained of liquid moments
drifting into the calcified skies;
a moment in time to be remembered
surreal in its own existence
clinging to the daylight hours;
the summer roses bloom and scent
the stillness of the humid day
nothing stirs or moves
time just is
now.
My concrete dried beneath regret,
No footprints left just silhouettes.
I scream through porcelain but cracks don't form—
Just echos of a lifetime; body-worn
An engine heart with rusted gears
Still grinding through regretful years
I've calcified to the point where nothing grows;
A statue dried; yet it sank inside an undertow.
I wonder
if all the poetry is gone.
I've stolen from fiction
and narrated outlandish
but rational thoughts.
Where is the poetry?
So grounded am I
in acceptable habit I call
happiness that
the dancing doesn't come.
I don't see the longing posture of the trees,
and calcified the sad
memories. I almost want them back.
Maybe I need
another broken heart.
And the hearse did rehearse its path,
Though the skeleton held dearly
To his ground, smiling loud.
He was bare - needed a shroud,
With his straight bow, grinned severely.
For it seems, he’ll not move ever.
There’s his calcified stick figure,
Who’s not shamed in the least.
For on earth, his time’s increased.
Seems he’s stuck in mortis-rigor.
Why is it the intransigent
find the intransigent
to be pigheaded, willful,
inflexible and pertinacious?
Engaging, as it were,
in an endless “tug-o-war”
neither side allowing
for consideration of
the fallibility of the inflexibility
of calcified recalcitrance.
Stags, horns locked,
dying on an empty stage
bleach-white bones
rattling in an unfelt wind.
©7/14/2019
Intransigence Poetry Contest
John Hamilton sponsor
A moment of pause was needed
in the eerie lull after the
gathering of dreams, to enter
the corridor of voices.
We stopped looking through
our tongues, across the bitterness
of burning river, after the mud
in our eyes.
The black tar of the golden wood
between us was smearing the family
of crying pillows.
All the silver was tumbling
down from the stairs of calcified
faces of virgins.
The god was yet to be born !
SATISH VERMA
Form:
A moment of pause was needed
in the eerie lull after the
gathering of dreams, to enter
the corridor of voices.
We stopped looking through
our tongues, across the bitterness
of burning river, after the mud
in our eyes.
The black tar of the golden wood
between us was smearing the family
of crying pillows.
All the silver was tumbling
down from the stairs of calcified
faces of virgins.
The god was yet to be born !
SATISH VERMA
Form:
Yes, I am frightened.
I am frightened of being frightened.
My unsound mind,
dwells among dark shadows quaffing silence,
where the quadriplegic dead beckon,
a sea spewing out skeletal remains
of ancient swimmers.
Sounds of calcified castanets haunt my dreams.
Accusatory cranial eyes stare at me
and bony fingers point in my direction.
My crimson blood turns blue.
Oh! The fear, the fright that one day
I too will become unfleshed like them.