Short Quarried Poems
Short Quarried Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Quarried by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Quarried by length and keyword.
Pygmalion, it were stoutly done
To chisel up your special one.
You can't get a date,
But quarried a crate,
By which all your courting is none.
waterside vigil
buffalo nears water hole
lions crouch low nearby
three-pronged ambuscade
buffalo calf culled from herd
swift pincer attack
quarried prey springs forth
stressed calf serpentines about
lead lion cuts angle
driven toward snare
flanks assaulted from both sides
vise tightened prey clasped
Beneath the graffiti littered by the years
and the fatigue signed by a thousand cares
Through the scratchings of so many tears
that were summoned or caught you unawares
Under the mottles by done days quarried
and the shadows writ by a jealous sun
where disappointments linger unburied
and age is making its relentless run
My tired eyes can still trace your first face
by the thievery of time irreducible
Stone steps
To the top of the tower -
At least a hundred -
In a spiral staircase;
Regularly spaced,
Worn by many feet
And time,
Yet as strong as the day
They were quarried
Out of local granite.
Taking the polished brass
Handrail, I started to climb;
Eventually,
Stopping midway
To catch my breath,
And massage my aching calves.
Reaching the telescope at last, I
Smiled and gazed up at the starry sky.
Jack Horne for Linda-Marie’s contest
I can not dwell on where I've been
Or where ten years I'll be
The roads are gone, the rivers dry
Nameless faces I see
For if the path led straight back home
I wouldn't know the way
The cobbled stones, the quarried hill
My mind begins to sway
When sunrise turns to ashen waste
And trees, they fail to leaf
You'll find my soul amidst the stars
My poems, what's left of me
05/04/25
......day before Mom's Angel Anniversary
I tried to tie, I said, I said,
some rocks to billowed clouds.
In this I was a fool, a chump!
For rocks, as is both well allowed
and widely wist,
pass always through these vapor stumps,
and gathered mists,
and won't be bound with lumps.
So all I’ve really done is stone the earth
with quarried things that loud ker-thump,
become the cause of people being
sore bereaved with grievous bumps.
Oh no! Look out! Please mind your head!
And look out poems!
Gazelles upon you tread.
The day now split
drifts off unpromised,
the dream remains with me
Our words as jewels
now treasured pawn,
their tickets burning free
The nights by measure
mornings fled,
those times you woke and lied
My heart remains
my own to wed,
your wound still deep inside
From spells you cast
upon our gift,
and quarried into stone
The past is black,
the future gone,
—this present mine to own
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2017)