Short Red Clay Poems
Short Red Clay Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Red Clay by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Red Clay by length and keyword.
Their spreading out like thin veins,
Green pimples on dark red clay.
Some things you just love to hate,
Citra time is here.
Carolina
clay soil
red with iron
fired
kilned hot
red clay bricks
a hawk
soaring through
lotus blue sky
a vulture
soaring higher
not a sound
Form:
Trudging down the same path
Present equals past
Red clay
My problems outlast
The runes have been cast
Astray
A delayed forecast
Emotion outcast
I failed
I awaken with inordinate maturate on my face. Stripping my skin away disinters a face made of red clay I then claw and strip it away to show the face of a roseate mask and once unmasked revealed the black star.
Hot sun...Burning Earth...Molded from Red clay,Covered with Callichie,Cooked Hard
in the Sun. Strong with thought...yet, woman screams and not heard...Lonely, like the
mountain covered in snow...Hot Sun...Touch me and make me new.
Asleep on a pile of hay
my dreams are waiting for the day
when summer relinquishes her ray
to a re-canvassed season of red clay ;
Burgundy leaves in the wind sway,
as September returns like a Jay
Sponsor Line Gauthier
Contest Name Bite Size Poem no51 |
Peach ripened on the trees
Red clay soil grows you best
Anticipation apon your leaves
Peach ripened on the tree
Juicy, fresh Georgia, peach. Bees
love the juicy, tangy, tongue caress
Peach ripened on the trees
Red clay soil grows you best.
My first attempt at a triolet, not my favorite poem.
Your eyes are like emerald
Your hair like that of silk
Lips red as roses
Your touch very electric
Kiss very stunning
Your hug real warm
Gracefulness like a pony
Your voice like a choir of angels
Smell like the radiance of sweet scenting flowers
Your skin fair like red clay
That is how you look my love
Form:
Raindrops are falling in the Orange Red clay tiles roof
Announcing a heavy rainfall in the horizon
Inspiring to write a song called Love is Shatterproof
Nurturing a undiscovered talent with passion
Wind, Snow or Rain Acrostrain Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Jan Allison
Second Place
10-23-2015
SAND LESS BEACH- A Haiku
unfriendly foreshore
a little, bad hammer swims
beyond the sand less
mud color red clay
water dissipated skies
fish hidden gone where
capture unfriendly
a cross eyed, mad sea gull swims
on the sand less beach
skydiving sea gull
people playing volleyball
on the sand less beach
5/27/19
Barefoot
I stand beside the water.
Ocean sand and red clay warming my feet,
salt air cleansing my thought.
Shadows fade gray before the dawn.
Tidal surging
mark another day, another time.
A ship sails from harbor
moving sedately toward the rising sun.
I turn to go
and a gull greets me with cries.
Perhaps tomorrow
all longings will be stilled.
red clay memories
in the rugged cracked red clay
earth are my memories
dirt that is so dry
it blows like dust in the wind
when you ball it in your hand
and blow on it
my tears flow
glossing over them
the water-mixed memories
sink to the bottom
forming deep tepid pools of resource
for my hungry soul when I'm
parched for more
a poem describing the texture of my memories
Hundred ten summer…
Widening cracks drought has made,
drip-drop closed gap.
For the rain contest. When I was a boy, the deep south suffered through an oppressive
drought. The red clay had such deep cracks in it I never thought they would go away, until
those torrential rains finally came. In less than three hours everything and everybody was
healed by this blessing from above.
Behind me in line
breathing heavy, often,
the man kicks red clay
from his boots.
The day outside is hot,
humidity strangling,
but in line, the cool
industrial air blows.
My heart begins to beat
in time with each of his
ragged, work-worn
breaths.
He steps up to the counter
ordering an Italian
with absolutely
no tomato.
Red clay lies in his wake,
waiting for the sweet release
of a push broom death.
Cotton fields
White to harvest
Untouched by red clay
Trash, sediment
Banked white snow
Fluffy
Not visited
By neighborhood dogs
Right out of the pack
The scent of clean,
Soft cotton
Dry and warm
Slip one on, then two
Encapsulate the feet
Like clean silver fog
Coats each tree
Ten hours later
There's dirt, stink
Old shoe leather stains
Then tossed into hamper
No longer new
No longer clean
No longer white
Just dirty old socks