Short Diggers Poems

a cold bizarre wind
Dimitri's grave diggers yawn
only rocks abound...

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They
unjust
no mercy
nary mercy
a mercenary
no loyalty but gold
hidden soldier of fortune
different kind of payment recieved........

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I love wisdom of crickets.
they sing,
and dance,
only in absence of chickens.
Humans sing and dance 
to please even their grave diggers....

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There was a young man who Size 
Caused dames to tremble their Thighs
Swoon-- their names when he called It
and syncopate at the sight of his.... Wallet!...

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Window panes cheerily frosted
Insiders huddle to stay warm
Nights start early and end late
Tea blends are honeyed to taste
Early diggers shovel after each storm
Rambunctious boys want to skate

20141004...

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bullets and triggers 
           make some people feel bigger
           ~    not the grave diggers    ~
         

GUNS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco 
Syllable counter PS 5/7/5
28/04/2021...

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The gold diggers of this world search for their fortunes
in all the wrong places. Because the richest treasures
can only be found in the Holy Bible where God's wealth
waits to be discovered. Every word a gold nugget
enriching the Soul....

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People planters find it hard to tear 
at the loss of your near and  dear

At two hundred percent profits
Devastation gives them fat pockets

Diggers open up the ground
Where people sprouts can be found....

Sprouts or people dust....it is hard to know!?...

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The 'chase' can be a hunt
    though I hope it's not for deer
  I'd rather they chase criminals
    and put an end to fear

  Then there's 'Chase Bank of Manhattan,'
    named after J.P. Morgan, I believe
  A gent oft chased by 'gold-diggers'
    for whom his wallet was a mesh-less sieve...

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The warrior stands on one leg in the sun
And watches the British fleet drop anchor
These strange white men raise their flag
And the warrior’s land is stolen from him

Over the years they say the warrior is lost
But when Australia marched to war
The warrior stands tall again standing tall
As a Digger wearing the rising sun.

© Paul Warren Poetry...

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I saw two gold diggers chasing  by dangerous dogs. 
Hidden behind the hindu golden statues of gods.
Screaming for help, some people came to help them, 
One dog caught one gold digger and bitten her bottom 
Dogs' owner blamed by one driver who carried goods. 

April 21/2023
Written for Bite size contest No.62 
poetry contest Sponsored  by Line Gautier...

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It was 35 Diggers dead each day
Of the Great War for they volunteered to stay
Mounting a total to 60,000 the cost
Each one a son or daughter of the Southern Cross lost

From a country of five million souls strong
416,809 enlisted to the battle front long
And lastly 156,000 became casualties
For us, for freedom the sacrifice was not free.
 
© Paul Warren Poetry...

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Graying clouds, faces
Sprinkled with tears of sorrow...
Deepening thunders

Howling winds, braces
Buffeted by ghastly breath...
Trembling ropes and spikes

Blowing rains, vases
Overturned near grave diggers...
Strewn flower petals

Clearing skies, races
Blanketed the pink coffer...
Gifting her gray vault

Waning tears, faces
Leaked with canopy waters...
Tossing earth within...

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A missile in the home,
what they have done ?
You are on flames.

A red smoke rises
from bottomless hole.
Memory slumps.

A glow in pain washed
cells, calls the mirror.
Instead, grave diggers arrive.

This was the manufactured truth
of the eternal kiss
of death. I stretch my arms

to feel the terror.
The walls start crying.
There was no roof.


SATISH VERMA...

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golden grave diggers                                                                                                  they never will earn enough                                                                                    ghoulish disrespect                                                                                            -            -Thieves try to steal Sigmund Freud's ashes...

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LETS NOT CRY FOR THOSE WHO ARE DEAD

AS EMOTIONS ARE BURIED IN THE GRAVEYARD

LONGING FOR LOVE IS FUTILE

PALE AND FRAGILE

I WISH THOSE BLUE EYES

TO BE MINE FOREVER

ALAS ! DREAMS ARE THE ENEMIES OF DAYLIGHT

MOONLIGHT IS CONCEALING MY THOUGHTS

INSOMNIA IS GRIPPING MY VISION

WAYWARD THOUGHTS CULMINATES AS

MY LOVE POEMS ARE CHAINED IN PRISON…








Redfiery
2011...

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turbines&apartments
                           awake
diggers&cranes release
                      their brakes
roads alive
           with commuter cars
bridges teem 
           with pedestrians
umbrellas uplift
                in passing showers
pylons pulsate
                 their powers
corn flakes crackle,toast browns
                            eggs hard-boil
work prepares
                    a day full of toil...

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Rubies are red
Sapphires are blue
A pile of these
Would be faboo

Em’ralds are green
Diamonds are white
All demand work
To bring to light

Digging real deep
Slaving away
Labor and sweat
Hoping for pay

Hidden away
There was a stone
Diggers threw out
Worth was not known

It has this shape:
Fear of the Lord
All is revealed
Glorious hoard!

Breaking through rock
Our effort? Nope
Wisdom Himself
Paying for hope...

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Sookie said (as she stood at the tee),

"Though this golfing is boring to me,

Its odds can't be beat.

Of golfers I meet,

for each woman, the males number three!!"


For the Limerick Contest of Carolyn Devonshire

*Note: Female golfers number fewer than 23% in this sport.
With the many doctors and lawyers that seem to enjoy this
activity, I can't help but think it would be a great place for a
single lady to meet rich men!...

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Returned to dust.
The bones of the dead have gone,
Once they are picked clean.
Their rags and gold left behind,
for grave diggers to plunder.

Beware of curses,
that are inscribed deep in stone.
To take such effort,
implies that the need is true
and death or worse awaits you.

You do not believe?
Look about you, on the floor.
See not the dry blood?
Where do you think it came from?
Turn around and you'll find out.


My Halloween offerin for Oct. 7th...

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Book looking like written by a scribe
Matter of fact Mr. Putin thought it was just a drive
Looking like his mistress threw up a sign
It looks like this flying Serpent is finally going to die
Motter of fact I was lloking and staring at the Christ
How does He have horns on His head
When He's just a mine on a timer
Gold diggers know when they hit you with a fife
I got 5 on it is what she told her boy guy
And He was looking at her like he was looking at a crisis...

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The diggers looked around
As they  marched over the ground
Of the  Menin Gate at Ieper town
And their chiseled names shone brightly down
When they passed through the arch of glory
As the nightly bugle sung their story

They were laying across the battlefields
Still holding ground they refused to yield
And will be forever with their mates
As they stand together while they wait
And we will honour them too
Knowing their deeds and daring-do.

© Paul Warren Poetry...

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Homes under trees
family in tents
refugees in forests
hunting of edible rats
cattle rustled away
harpoons to hook fish
wild humans eating
weak humans legally
clothing of rags 
thrown as gifts from sky
slave diggers in mines
tortured, underpaid
smuggled females
exploited as things of joy
jungle life at work
enhanced by jungle brains
by those in stone houses
this indeed is neo-stone age
Stone Age relived
Stone Age in promotion
Stone Age modified
and called civilization...

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