Short Excavated Poems
Short Excavated Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Excavated by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Excavated by length and keyword.
here i stand
roughly hewn
from a block
lifeless too
excavated in
tawdry glint
eye collapse
with consent
In modern day times since twenty-fifteen
Fifty new species of dinosaurs have been seen
Because new places are being rapidly excavated
Excitement generated cannot be overstated
Back in time, fondly
Treasured memories of my
Youth excavated
Dial It Back Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Maureen McGreavy (Winner: 5th Place)
Date written and posted: 05/03/2019
I left her in a makeshift hut
Tugging scarecrow ropes
Scaring hundred of birds
Saving pregnant rice stalks.
She was 10 years old
I am now 60 years old
I have a dream last night
I revisited her…
Together
We excavated unforgettable gleeful moments!
A perfectly predictable purplish tabby cat misbehaves
Dancing across magnificent magpies excavated graves
Squirming yellow shining housefly larvae she enslaves
Swimming through thick sticky b-positive tidal waves
A polka dotted butterfly with stiletto and cream shaves
Unearthing blind roots, cyclic thoughts
spin round again
as if they had just come to me,
and had not been arriving forever.
Abandoned living-spaces excavated
from under the forgotten foundations
of elsewhere.
Places we leave our sweat in,
litter that never goes away,
stuff in pockets that once belonged
to a best jacket.
A best life thus far – but when?
A laptop waits in its black nest.
I consider not writing anything,
ignoring the blood deep voices.
I wish I had a few ending words
to write, completing one story
and the beginning first lines of another.
If I look away, distract myself,
voices might remain un-excavated.
This house of windows and keys
may stay shut, silence pound
on windows
I can no longer open.
Dawn’s sunrise
with the ocean tide low
reveals new shells, like jewels aglow
Mollusk’s homes
recently vacated
just waiting to be excavated
Shapes and size
of wide variety
laid out as far as the eye can see
Rolling waves
will soon come to reclaim
these low-tide jewels of ocean fame
by, Joe Flach for nette onclaud's PARALLELOGRAM DE CRYSTALLINE contest
Spacious comfortable country residence
extended and upgraded, sleeps eight.
On the fringe of a conservation village
elevated distant views, sheltered
solar heating, well insulated.
Sympathetically tucked into a south facing hillside,
extensive well-manicured terraced gardens.
All amenities, motorway and railway within 5 miles.
Paradise on four levels, décor understated
a dusty sand hole, ant excavated…
Form:
Every word burns
on the back when
cut by the scourge.
Every word bites,
when the mouth of the night
kisses
Every word bleeds
in the bloody poem
of a broken love.
Every word is awkward.
when carved
upside down
Every word transgresses
when by itself
excavated
But the word poetry
when the poet plants it
reverberates and radiates,
sprouts everywhere
May it be so ...
always sacrosanct
the word
poetry !
Love can be looked at, as an abstract
and can seem like an artifact, encased in a crusted bundle,
buried somewhere deep waiting to be discovered
Love is found and excavated, gently brushing the ruminants away
trying not disturb the true essence that was neatly preserved
Now, Love can be displayed, so people can see that
even though it can be still, It can always be real
If only you can believe that love can be, indeed
predispositions exposed now
opening up that can of worms
lies uncovered that were meant to be kept hidden
yearnings brought out from hiding
gathering up truths that where hidden behind the lies
realms of true reality exposed to the light of truth that was hidden by clouds of doubt
a secret realm that existed within the subconscious has now been excavated
perhaps for the betterment of all involved
helping all to see much more clearly then ever before
Letters to an Unknown Woman by Nicanor Parra, Translated by T. Wignesan
When years go by, when years
go by and the air having excavated a ditch
between your soul and mine, when years hurry past
and I be the only man to entertain feelings of love,
a being who hovered an instant in front of your lips,
a poor fella dejected from walking through gardens,
where will you be? Where
will you, O! child/daughter of my kisses!
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Colour Schemers
Arab Traders excavated
Europe laid the foundation
The New World framed it perfectly
The rest of the races roofed it
This …
Inordinate economic concupiscence
Shadowy sham, animated by a violent passion
An extraordinary alteration
So…
Nature convulses
Human dignity reduced to
Colour: Black, white, brown, yellow
But …
The scale corrects itself
The clock resets
The scheme falls apart
Because …
There is only one humanity
It’s you.
It’s me.