Short Dig Up Poems

Mortal men
Dig up
The dry bones
Dead heroes...

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rubberneck neighbor
she knew too much about us
dont dig up garden
...

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Me, half-dead inside
Dig up into your surface
Heart cry out confide....

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To kill all the Taliban clan
We’ll dig up a best in west plan
General Custer’s
Old memory musters
A last stand in Afghanistan...

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Past lives in the past
Leave it there where 
It belongs 
Don't dig up 
Don't unearth
The things of the past 
Focus on the resent 
Looking towards things to come...

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Gonna check out my ancestry, where I'm from
Perhaps from royalty or maybe from a bum
Who's wifey kicked him out
An upstanding dude I doubt
Should leave it alone, might dig up some scum...

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Old people
Are like ruins
If you cannot
Cherish their hey days
Don’t dig up
Their past


If  
You
Go after 
The history
Of monuments,
You may cause
Insult to
The glorious past 
Of Royalties 
That have
Long crumbled!...

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Waking up
I mine the memory of my dream
Like trying to catch sand in a net
I dig up little pieces
  A ticking clock
  Some dirty thoughts
A few images I sift from my head
But the plot is buried deep
The seams of my dreams, I've lost...

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I think I'll go dig up a bucket of worms for the day 
I'll go out back where me and the dog play 

After I am done, 
I will put the worms out of the sun 

And I'll talk to my dad 
To see if any fishing could be had 

For supper we can have fish on our plate...

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When archeologists dig up the bones,
it's not likely that any of them moans,
"Forgive me if I have you mis-gendered."
Apple trees are by their fruit remembered.


----------

H/T to An Apple Is Always an Apple by Milt Hankins...

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It is autumn
grapes are bleeding.


The orange color
seeps into your eyes.
Will you shut the green lids ?

You,
start reading backward.
Atavistic instinct
to dig up the severed hands ? 

Your house,
died
in the flower bed.
Seeds were crying.



Satish Verma...

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That satanic streak
of tireless undressing
of a hapless monarch.

Wings were gone. Cannot fly
across the tree 
of hypocricy.

A footmat for the suicidal jump
from the elegant hierarchy
to grainy lies.

Why are you turning ungreen ?
You will dig up the temple
without god ?



Satish Verma...

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I use to hate that nervous feeling
but with you
its okay
you make me nervous
and scared
but you also make me happy
you make me smile
you make me hope 
you make me dig up the dreams
I have already burried deep
inside my heart
locked in a cage of insecurities
but now the butterflys you bring
let them free
and I can breathe...

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Dig up running honeysuckle
It seems to resist demise
Wraps its long slender arms around
The Clematis my prize

It has coked out the lilies fair
Left little space for bulbs
Why birds did you use that space
To defecate a tub

Those seeds digested prolific
Honeysuckle runs wild
No place for something aggressive
In my garden so mild  ...

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To open up the sky
To dig up abandoned graves
The touch of silk replaced by steel
And forgive the dramatic implication
But Im getting out
Forgetting faces
Ignoring the nameless
Avoiding these places
Washed away to scrape my flesh
Replace the numb with burn
Suffer the fright 
Set me on fire
But Im losing you
Forgiving the time
Insisting on feeling
Cant be mine...

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No need to impress
or need to define
what rests deep inside me
within the sublime

All praise and all glory
goes to the Lord
immune from false tribute
to free every word

Time as the temptress
exposed in His wake
the One and the Only
not early nor late

His calling upon me
my arms open wide
to dig up my treasure
—and travel divine

(Dreamsleep: October, 2022)...

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Let’s dig up a poem we wrote years ago
When we thought that we knew
What we think we now know
Remove it from then
And dress it as now
A long fallow field
We still long to plow

Seasons have passed
The scare poles remain
As tin men still search
For a heart and a brain
Cuz the things we knew then
Well, they’re still the same
An old deck of cards
Reshuffled, renamed 
...

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mistakes of the past 
never stay buried   
drugged up over again
why can't bygones be bygones 
would like to never speak of the past 
issues of the past have no 
chance of ever being repaired 
why bring them up  
doing so only causes pain
to entire into the present 
shouldn't dig up past hurts 
because all that does is cause 
the past pain to invade the present 
state of well being...

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Asleep and awake
No presence of mind
Buried by loss
And weathered inside

Mechanical dreams
Carved by the sounds
Alone underneath
A stone in the ground

Waiting for love
To dig up the skies
Enough with these words
My delusional lies

I picture her face
Before I can stand
Ahead of my race
Within my demands

Asleep and awake
Mechanical tears
Hiding from love
Her face is so clear...

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Bury me in pity.
I constantly feel so shitty.
My fingers point to higher 
ground.
I try to speak, without a sound.

Grunting and growling.
I'm drowning.
The voices of my aching faces.
It's tiring, inspiring.
Just how long I endure.
My faces, they're jaded.
My soul, has faded.
It's goodbye, I'm sure.

Dig up my brittle bones.
The deeper, the stones.
I start to turn to dust.
This coffin,
I lay in,
is rust....

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Abdicating the shadows;
totemic.
I return back to dig up the buried-
moon from the ruins of poetry.

It benumbs.
No response was coming from
cajoling the black secrets-
of time-cast.

A storm was raging in a pack
of emptiness. Like a dead fly
between the pages of skulls.
I couldn’t find the exact words.

The religion of wish-lists.
Can you find the end of desires ?
From thought to thought-
was there any vision ?



Satish Verma...

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What does a Scotsman wear under his kilt?
Is it Fruit of the Loom?
Is it nuthin'?
When it's cold does he cover himself with a quilt?
How much good Gaelic blood has been spilt
'cause he buried his Wee Willie up to the hilt
In a fair colleen's warm married muffin?


Author's note: Dear reader, after reading Linda Alice Fowler's delightful limerick "Kilt Atilt", I felt inspired to go into my archives and dig up this old chestnut....

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I could trace back in the past 
Since my disorganized mind can't handle all of the excitement 
I feel an urge to discover something new, but what's there to dig up?
I could explore a new terrain...but my mind can't keep up

I feel like traveling back in time
Perhaps I could have one more chance to change my past decisions
But it's just my imagination...soaked up in grubby grime 
The unbearable sense of impoverishment...ruins my ambitions...

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Covered in the ground trying to find the light 
One prayer is in the truth. Should it happen? 
Possession happen for a reason 
So I dig up to my faith, up to you 

At this instant I am half covered, reading you 
It is miraculous the hope in you 
So I dig to reach my providence 

There is radiance and I take notice of your accent 
This is my composition, my dance, my reality 
No more worries I found my illumination above the soil....

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peoples emotions are complex.
if you care enough to dig them up.
A face can't tell you everything.
We humani have two faces.
One on the surface letting many emotions flitter by.
The second you must drench up, dig up, feel for everything it holds.
It is the face of our true emotions.
Anger, sadness, despair, depression.
When we fake a smile and are really sad on the inside.
These we must decipher, these we must decide.
What is your face? 
Today? Tomorrow?...

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