Short Erasure Poems
Short Erasure Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Erasure by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Erasure by length and keyword.
The Erasure
By: Miracle Man
October 1 2021
I sought God’s forgiveness, and found the erasure for all my misdeeds.
I love the blank, bare page
unmarred by usage
untouched by erasure
thirsty as desert sand
expectant, waiting
to pull onto itself and hold
all the words of my heart.
a black canvas
punctuated
with spots of gray
a circle
ending
where it began
a scream
in the head
that blinds
a parenthesis
expanding
into infinite erasure
Seemingly
Nothing appears as me
Without nothing me is illusion..
Seemingly
Nothing can be missing
But never lost...
Yet nothing is a word
Among all words
The erasure of which may
Also help...
Pointing to nothing
Is a story which may be
Intended as erasure..
But nothing stands
As a word..suggesting
The futility of a word
To be more than a word..
Yet it might be said
The appearance
Of a word is empty..
Hence.the dilemma...
Pointing to nothing
Is a story which may be
Intended as erasure..
But nothing stands
As a word..suggesting
The futility of a word
To be more than a word..
Yet it might be said
The appearance
Of a word is empty..
Hence.the dilemma...
Pre Computer Age
By: Miracle Man
December 30, 2021
Coffee stains on unlined paper;
a number two lead pencil,
erasure mostly gone.
Thoughts that appeared as vapor;
I desired to be prehensile,
each break of dawn.
What was needed was a short pencil
with a long erasure.
Tom
^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!^!
<*&^%(! VOLCANIC eruption !)%^&*>
volatile erasure
vehement evasion
!(%^&*< ERUPTIVE volition >*&^%)!
erosive volume
evasive venom
¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^¡^
Listen to poem:
What lies on the field of forgiveness?
Not triumph won at all cost,
Not the bitter stink of defeat in regret.
But the grass waving in the breeze
Over-sown on the scars of battles past lost.
For this field yields
Neither victory nor surrender
Neither erasure nor forget me nots
But the grace and poise of mercy,
Sprouting green shoots from
The seeds of love shared.
DEATH STILLS #5
A caress brief that stills all pain,
Die then old grief that brought things vain.
To die feels strange yet strokes easy,
Seizure of change dims completely.
Only death frames a posture sure,
Forfeit brief name in erasure.
Concede dear soul old gravity,
Puzzle ends here as death sets free.
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
03 February 2016
Singapore
Plains and mountains and poetic refrains
Mark the emergence from ages so dark
Pains ease with the erasure of blood stains
Stark in crimson where once rested a park
Rains return the flowers to dormant lanes
Lark and Robin and the sounds of a bark
Are welcome signs of a Spring without war
Far from thoughts of my ashes in a jar
6-15-19
Contest: Rima Ottava
Sponsor: Charles Messina
roving black hole
devours
a misplaced life
somewhere
in the futile fog
of wandering warfare
it's baked in the cruel cake:
an ultimate deletion
is coming for us all
with groaning glee
we scratch an incendiary itch
under the hood of
a mutilating maelstrom
where cryptic terror gushes
from loose AI cannons
I fear it all
but there's nothing
to fear but
the imperfect
storm
What houses the atmosphere of long ago
in the space we knew so well
now - replaced by what - other thing
recycled air now consumed by others - repackaged
emboldened with more tireless times
bumping into puffs of air we ingested in that place
tearing down of walls combine not with erasure of essence
lingering there and in my heart
so little - so large
as to straighten my back once again
with the whole of it
I have had the pleasure
Of watching one’s treasure
And dared to then measure
What one did at leisure…
Man fails not to treasure
What fetches him pleasure:
For them goes at leisure
And them take full measure
Of eyes the cynosure,
For the camera sure,
Then doors slam for closure:
There shouldn’t be censure;
Kisses with their pressures,
Sex with all its seizures,
Morals for erasure…
Who’d save man from pleasure?
Based on observable
And well-documented evidence,
War is nothing but the deliberate
And systematic erasure of human life,
With the purpose of achieving
Some political goal.
In quantifying the variables
That factor into the equation,
There is not, so much,
A calculus of war,
As there is a basic arithmetic,
And it is computed
With the rubber end of a pencil.
In a war of attrition,
God is on the side
Of the big erasers.
The red pen hovers like a hawk,
its beak sharp with erasure.
Words are stripped of their fever,
left pale, bloodless, trembling.
A thought, once naked,
is swaddled in gauze—
so the wound won’t offend.
The page shivers in silence.
I watch my tongue,
tethered in the mouth’s dark stall.
A candle tries to speak in flame,
but the wax floods its throat.
Behind the curtain,
the truth grows mildew,
while the official story
shines like polished bone.
Substantial quadrants of hate
Throughout these veins circulate
Spiraling in frenzied states
Adrift an ailing coma
Infinite corruption clawed my corneas
Birthing the erasure of euphoria
Imprinting trademarks of memoria
Leaving in wake vile aromas
All confidence dissolved to solvents
Due to definitive involvement
Susceptible to gaunt installments
Marring my skin with melanoma
Mother Earth serves as a mime
Humanity must be refined