Short Excavate Poems
Short Excavate Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Excavate by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Excavate by length and keyword.
Henry, an extraordinary excavator
Would arrive there sooner rather than later.
Using his big cat,
When shown where it was at,
He would dig you an enormous crater.
To the heavens, undying faith we pray
For confirmation, deserts we excavate
Doubter and believer, lead truth astray
Tolerance not, nor morality, religions’ demonstrate
Form:
Able bodies come..
dig .. excavate.. find gold..
how I jumped..keep looking..
mercy.. Nothing!..
ore... picks..quick rising
settlements.. tents.. Unbelievable..
Vigilantes.. Worries... xenophobic..
yelling zestfully..
Hence, forth I walk.
Too Summer I talk
When I leap, Jump I find.
I am the intellectual suffering voices.
When the voices rise.
I find the drastic Dragon.
Drum-roll.
I excavate terminologies.
Hence I colour the colour-book.
So forth
To remove the shadows
Of the voices, which I brask.
Shallow Graves
By: Tom Wright
10-2005
Our memory is a place filled with shallow graves,
where no painful thing can be buried so deep,
that Satan can’t excavate it.
Our memory is like a storage locker,
in that it stores our thoughts,
but allows us to inventory them periodically.
I take words from your mouth and use them as my
own. I dig and I excavate. I burrow and I exhume. Last
week's joke and yesterday's anecdote become my show-
and-tell tomorrow. You sigh, I inhale. You stutter, I catch
diamonds in the rough. A safety net under trapeze. I sift
for the gold you toss aside. My roadmap, your breadcrumbs.
Sue found an impossible task,
To ‘excavate’ wearing her mask,
Now Sue cannot linger,
With her little finger,
To abstain has been a big ask
Since childhood Sue’s ‘explored ‘her nose,
Her secret’s one nobody knows,
Sue’s now stopped the picking,
The licking and flicking,
It’s down to covid I suppose.
10/31/21
Stripped of emotions
Maybe not,
Just having difficult time
To articulate them
Lost for words
Maybe not,
Just having a tough time
Uttering them
Tearless cries fill my eyes
Maybe not,
Just having a rough time
To excavate them
Here I sit,
Emotionless,
Wordless and
Tearless
The only thing, I have in abundance today,
Is time on my own…
All I ever wanted was for someone to love me.
To
Look deep into my soul
See the cracks on the floor.
Excavate my caves
Only to stand up to the waves.
Dive through the abyss
And come greet me with a kiss.
Touch me where it hurts
Feel one-thousand volts of Hertz.
Use different kinds of techniques
To patch up my leaks.
Cause all I ever wanted was you.
Form:
Before I die
I want a mouth filled with gold teeth.
So, when they excavate me after a thousand years.
They'll think I was royalty-maybe even a king-
To fool an archeologist (grave robber), I think, is a noble thing.
Good kings should be buried like the common man.
No monuments or pomp- purple garments or crowns.
Just a simple pine box in the cold-cold-cold ground-
True beauty shines from within,
Whereas ugliness dons a pretty face
For the world to marvel at.
One doesn't have to dig deep
To excavate diamond glistening underneath.
Bite Size Poem no.23 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
Date written: 10/18/2021
The glow beneath it all
We’ve forgotten
Is still here and comes from within
Scrape away the burdensome layers of meaningless deposits
Filling the voids accumulated over half a lifetime
You once thought so defining
Shaping you
Now an ossified vague form of you
A spirit buried beneath its weight
Excavate the unnecessary
Then you’ll see
It’s you alone who conceals your shining.
reveal
what lies beneath
veneer of "all is fine."
draw your veil back so I can see
the pain hiding behind those smiling eyes.
please, magnificent enigma,
excavate your demons;
be courageous,
reveal.
"R" Contest, New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Theme chosen: Reveal
Date written: 10/06/2021
Written: by Tom Wright
January 2015
My memory, Is a site inhabited
By a few shallow graves,
For no painful matter have I interred,
That Satan doesn’t periodically excavate it.
He’s like an aging dog, digging up old bones
Even when I displace to another location,
He shows up marking an x on the spot
Give me the person with burning desire,
And you can have the one with talent.
Tom
They grow out of our minds.
They excavate the past
with the jaw bones of concussed elks,
time is not in them,
it is only we who shimmer then disappear.
Wind and a cold moonlight
carves them still.
They are the blunt teeth
of an endless angry sky.
The undead
deadness of their weight
anchors the soil
keeps it from flying away.
If we let them they will ask of us,
lead us to recall the dust
in our green bones.
rage great
freedom wrong
just wait
love makes no difference
sedate strong
people
excavate earth
under steeple
mayhem ignore
drink mirth
here two cents
strangle birth
tell poor
save money
buy cheap
dark sunny
hard work
never sleep
no such perk
tame lust
virtue secure
top tax cut
bottom tax must
all manure
war backed
mammon
manipulated
usury driven
hope destroying
fear maintaining
political economy
just reality
i run thru ashes of pompeii
and i bring good news
it's great food
and my grapes will come to fruition
but i sleep close to the street
next to the mummies
nectar and jam
my news is the same
as it was from the last time
do you recall
as
when no one held regard to the mother
then the blast came
do not give the
neoanthropologists
a chance to excavate
your grinning skulls
as
the rich volcanic soil holds the DNA of
thousands of dreamers
After a long day of thinking, the...................Cats
lurk up on my belly and begin.......................Purring
towards where my soul lies deeply tucked......Away.
What was it that held me captive all day?......Sorrow
chilled me sore, but no more........................Are
those thoughts in me. No............................Doctors
could excavate that lump of dread................From
my sick spirit, but it left when I prayed to......Heaven.
A locomotive crying out
As it hurtles down life’s tracks--
Sounds like soul to me;
Or the wind whispering
On every blade of grass
Dipping toes in every pond;
Or the diamond that we keep
In caves too dark and deep
For any intruder to excavate;
Or the sermons of the Reverend Al Green;
Or the Force that guides and heals;
Or the reason for existence…
The soul, that which outlasts all else,
Sounds like the sweetest steam engine
In a myriad web of rails.
At the flower market
I found spice, holy water,
cobblestoned obsidian dreams,
but no flowers.
The blustery Tuscany day
showed me its underlying graffiti,
incantations of poetica esoterica,
and yet another way
to excavate the mystery.
Nostalgic Roman nights,
Spanish palabras, Sicilian incantations,
idyllic panoramas; promises
enough to purchase the moon.
Such a foolish sacrifice to
fresco up for portfolios in
sanctuaries precious
and profane.
Our nickname for bogeys was 'crows'
Small fingers were wedged up our nose
We got frequently told
Please stop digging for gold
Did I excavate ... shh no one knows!
www.theanswerbank.co.uk/Phrases-and-Sayings/Question165276.html
As children we called bogeys ‘crows’ it is a regional word in the Derby/Nottingham/Stoke areas... incidentally my hubby grew up about 5 miles from where I lived yet he called them bogeys
7/13/19
Cycle of Life
By: Miracle Man
6/26/2020
It’s a human tendency to forget,
for even the sharpest of minds.
I forget things and oft regret,
as days pass and life unwinds.
I often take walks into my past,
where all good memories are stored.
I excavate thoughts unsurpassed,
those substandard are ignored.
My life has seen four quarters,
spring, summer, fall, and winter.
I’ve tried to be a goodwill supporter,
focused on the cross in the center.
For year two thousand fourteen to be better,
We must excavate no bones from our past.
By forgiving others, our grievances, we unfetter,
Building a kinship with God that will last.
So lets rush headlong into this new beginning,
Jettisoning those grievances we've held in store.
When we nurse a grievance, Satan's wining,
Don't let him entice you from Heaven's door.
A Thought
Regret is only felt after it's too late
And we oft perceive a matter to be,
Until to us, it becomes.