Short Plows Poems

company
plows up duck pond
homeless...

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The blacksmith’s hammer
Forges the wind into
Shears and plows...

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sty sty off my eye
muttered backing from fowl house
grandpa plows the mule...

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grandma makes doughnuts
grandpa plows the open fields
heaven homes them now...

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Like the farmer who plows
     but never sows
so too the heart that beats alone....

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'
..
the 
sweat
of the man 
that plows is
worth a peso
in this fertile
ground
...

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His anger plows my heart
but does not plant any seeds
weeds of anger he grafts
on the ridges and valleys
of  work I can do so well...

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Poor old Farmer McGillicuddy
He’s somewhat of a fuddy-duddy
   He plows with an ox
   All progress he blocks
No wonder his corn tastes so cruddy...

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“boustrophedonic”


a cow plows across the page and
speech does as pausing without
never stops except to catch its
me to Greek that’s but breath...

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The earth 
Shall nourish
These hands 
With grace
Upon this page 
Then, turn these
Words into 
Shears and plows
No more hunger
and
No more pain...

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Snowing and snowing; again and again
Somehow don't think all drivers will win!
Hope all the snow-plows are picking it up
Sure is a great day to stay home and sup!...

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when we hear
the 
drumbeat of war
the
hands of death
upon our shores
now
our plows turned
into 
guns and swords
thus
our flags are who we are
while
we taste the clouds of war...

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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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plows through thick forests
paves paths betwixt barren lands ---
darkness left trackless


04 March 2022
H Forms - Traditional Nature Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France...

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When merciless grief plows your heart 

And unbearable is the pain 

Remember to sow your dream's seed

At harvest, you would see your gain!









© Demetrios Trifiatis
      27 June 2020...

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When relentless grief plows your heart 

And intolerable is the pain 

Forget not, to sow your dream's seed, 

At harvest, you would know your gain!







© Demetrios Trifiatis
       14 May 2022...

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Safari buzz is near...
A continent no luxury
To domesticate its giraffes and steer-
Plows mud enclaves
As the storm leers

Yet full of good cheer
No worries-
Especially in Kenya

We're all out on loan
To the universe
Let's see what we do...

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Fabled America is slipping away, 
surely you’ve felt it, like wind knocking 
a weather vane in another direction.
At some unnoticed moment
we decided to ignore realities
as a man intent on drowning himself
plows heedlessly through the waves....

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Splashing, thrashing, wildly bashing
     rages the rolling sea 
like half-tortured Poseidon drowned 
     in waves of misery!

In tempestuous, dark dead of night, 
     a vessel from afar
plows through by dim, faint, speckled glow 
     of north's Polaris star......

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The wind chill is thirty-two degrees below zero in Chicago
Snow is being pushed around by plows that are burying cars
The wind off the lake is adding to our discomfort, but taxis are moving
Marshall Fields is open, and there are Christmas carolers
Gorgeous nativity scenes light up windows...

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branch        burdened with snow

           long winter

      we    wait





“Storm of the Century”  Minneapolis, Minnesota
12/11/10
5:10 pm
“Roads Closed”…… City Plows pulled off the streets! “White-Out” Blizzard! I walked ½ block 
to the indoor track and it was like walking towards a runaway freight- train!...

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Forgiveness

Dusted with determination
her bent old body plows a furrow
in the field of time.
She has bled into the earth,
eaten unleavened bread
with sacramental wine

Old Mother seasoned with
sorrow, proud of her pain
and the daily acts of contrition
that may bring absolution,
or that may crumble
like the gauzy wings of moths...

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My environs, filled with sirens,
Rarely seems serene.
Add some snow plows to the mix
And picture what I mean.

Yes, it’s gritty in the city
But, in years gone by,
There was vibrancy as well,
A permanent supply.

Now the flavor I’d once savor
Packed its bags and left,
While we who stayed just hear the noise
And shake our heads, bereft....

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The lesion was 
spreading. From 
    inside, I hear the wails.

Past and present 
of time, plows 
    the furrows, in future.

Seeds remain 
unplanted. I seek 
    justice from the earth.

Turn off the lights 
I want to see- 
    the moon in its full glory.

Someone has left 
the message for us. 
    Go out to face the wolves.


Satish Verma...

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A good education,

Is the one that patiently, tenderly, but persistently plows one's mind 

As to prepare it to receive the seeds of virtue, justice, and truth

Which, with the passing of time, will grow into trees of knowledge that 

The taste of their fruits would exalt Man and glorify the divine! 






© Demetrios Trifiatis
       25 April 2023...

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