Short Harrowed Poems

Spirit
Callous, Potent
Guarding, Welding, Mending
Nurturing our Harrowed Egos
Amidst...

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our paradise, lost
strewn and scattered, dashed upon
the beaches, our dreams
harrowed by a demon wind
heaven, devastated, drowned

© Gail Foster 8th September 2017...

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He plows his harrowed fields—visions grand!
Lushly, planned, large yeilds;
Bugs frantically seeking shields
As farmers plant the hayfields.

Ó November 15, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen...

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Lifting from the Millewa;
swirling to the sky,
billowed to the heavens,
each particle drifts high.
Closing down the clearness
in an ever thickening rust,
from dry and harrowed farmland,
swirls the Mallee dust....

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DISAGREEMENT

“I shot an arrow into the air
It fell to earth  I knew not where” 

But then I narrow
And my heart harrowed down
I know how tomorrow
Will never ever be
I hurriedly ride a train
As it seem it would rain!...

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In duplicity of white death
exiled from clay
I was sinking in black words.

Absence of truth was absolute
in plowed and harrowed thoughts
of inner sleep, 

building my attachment to fear,
exploring the nothingness
of truth.


Satish Verma...

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When angels sing
Love begets love
In fluttering hearts
Of soaring white doves
Praying over predation
Tarrying above indolent blues
Serenity rains calm
In the cumulus of heliocentric views
Harrowed by hate
Beseeched by a crimson dawn
Hope sways on an olive branch
Dangling over civilization’s lawn...

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In the oven should I stick,
My haunted, harrowed head?
Or should I take my Pen and prick
My Will to Live instead?

Alas! the guilt! And, oh! The shame!
If just the Others knew!
They would place their embattled brains
In also, to broil, too...

*I'm in no way trying to exploit or poke fun at Sylvia; I revere her work...

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Rolling down the dusty unmade road
Over the rackety bridge we rode
A slow trickle of water under it flowed
Driving on even though the road narrowed

Tranquillity not at all overshadowed
Room to breath without feeling harrowed
Inner paths stretch leading to the highroad
Places now flash by, some of them hallowed

written 08/18/2013

contest Road Trip...

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Above the venue of the lost 
And the disappeared
The forgotten fall beneath the crags
Beneath a now and deep forever
Hanging onto the blade
Of the escarpment
Lost above the humming trees
And harrowed by sleep
They are lulled into this world of forgetting
Carried away by the wind like leaves 
Their grip not strong enough
To be whoever they were to be...

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Beautiful wind, come and wrap your cape around the willows
Your whiteness is the breath of God
That awakens earth’s soul.

White wind, calm the fields of harrowed ground,
Its toil for a moment is over.
Blanket it with your white pristine layers.

Winter wind, come and show me your purpose.
That I may rest and sleep
With the lullaby of your voice.

Jeralynn Clark...

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REALITY SLIPS

my princess slipped
face down into a
shadow
stars fell down
from a crown
hallowed

my heart narrowed
absorbing bullet 
shells
nights of dark
moons absorbed
hell

a mind harrowed
in false realms
dwells
reality slips
losing grip
becoming
that
shell

sands of the infinite
seem sublime
and my shell
will 
decline



© Kim van Breda...

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Dew dots the folicles of the earth,
raised in static praise of what came and left,
what dreams did come. 

Blades drank down to dirt and marrow,
parched and harrowed, juandiced in the light of Ra.
But he has gone the way of Tiamat.

Now may stray tears enter the cyclical fray;
the dividing line, terminus heralding the coming of the day.
A vintage season, come to stay and greave for the end of an age....

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There exists no more certain 
assassin of joy than that of
anger turned within.
Guilt’s grim scepter,
harrowed mind thus firmly wields,
and this with deft uncommon,
to bring renewed complaint
at slightest urge.
Senseless ruin whose
vapid tongue hisses
only self-derision’s name,
nobility to confound.
Slacken then this twisted cord
and in its place benign regret,
for guilt condemns the soul....

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Thunder rolls on the rails of morning
frightening the cat, curdling the cow’s milk
sudden, sullen rip roaring.
Released from its governor, it rattles man,
shaking the frail panes of his existence.
Jagged skyward shards spark, as the storm
wheels over the harrowed rye field,
splitting the magnolia tree from crown to root.
Gutters flute, asphalt steams, and within 
the tumult the lawn of morn is cleansed
to a silver sheen of green....

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Thunder rolls on the rails of morning
frightening the cat, curdling the cow’s milk
sudden, sullen rip roaring.
Released from its governor, it rattles man,
shaking the frail panes of his existence.
Jagged skyward shards spark, as the storm
wheels over the harrowed rye field,
splitting the magnolia tree from crown to root.
Gutters flute, asphalt steams, and within 
the tumult the lawn of morn is cleansed
to a silver sheen of green....

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My nails are getting long
so I might as well dig in
puncture my chest
skin this (fatuous?) doe
the scent of fresh blood wafting
as my digits wade deeper
 
I pull out a stone, smooth and
slightly porous
with a single red string
tied neatly around
Smash it, gnash it
the scarlet line frays
I catch a glimpse of
precious stuff inside
 
I chip my teeth
to chew and swallow
the glimmering mass
filling me
whole
I am illuminated, glorious
harrowed as an orphan fawn...

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