Short Sawdust Poems
Short Sawdust Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Sawdust by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Sawdust by length and keyword.
balancing on roof
heavy trunk
men plan its descent
the woebegone stems
purple smile
fades after tree falls
covered with sawdust
verbena
spent in scent of oak
6/27/2018
I add some sprinkles
Glue in sawdust
Slash some holes in it
My husband asks, "Is that one new?"
My paintings are all new.
Every day newer than yesterday.
Never satisfactory.
Never complete.
Always in Progress
A 55 gallon barrel
Full of pulverized
Oyster shells
Mixed with wood ash
And sawdust
And porklard
55 gallons of
Pulverized oyster
Shells.mixed
With basalt.
Alkalinity
Alkalinity
Mind the
Bushels bouiz
Mind the
Bushels!
When sawdust appears
It’s like glitter from the sky
The roar of the saws
Are as music to me ears
When creating this clock
God gifted me thought
When my work was done
I give it another
Just as God has given me
This Gift of Carpenter
Sawdust thrusts into the visceral air
as you lust over your woodworker's chair,
where my body will find rest.
Cedarwood sprinkles cling to stalwart sleeves.
Man glitter flits upon your rugged lips,
and I long to kiss them.
3-29-2021
Time is a rusted blade
Ripping when it cuts
Bone, and fat and guts.
Life is a tragic clown’s charade
Time’s nicked knife will slash;
Props, and back-drops, crash.
Only proud puppets never fade:
Sawdust hearts survive,
Deathless, unalive.
If you were wood
When I cut your sawdust
Would be glittering like gold
I would glue you together
And clamp you tight
Rub you with a fine coat of wax
Your face would shine and
You would be as smooth as glass
A sensual poem from a Carpenter, lol
Across the sawdust circus ground
Where bells and penny whistles sound,
The gypsy reads your fate for gold,
Good fortune, or dire doom, foretold.
She scans the stars, consults the gods,
And reckons up your life-death odds:
You tremble at what lies in store,
Then stumble from her tent front door…
Clamp your secrets within
Let no one loosen them
If the glue has not dried
Your secrets will fall apart
Some covered with dark stain
Others may have a clear finish
The darken ones we hide
Clean the sawdust from the mind
We all make Mistakes
Not letting the glue dry
(Yep, another wood poem lol)
What was your name?
Why was your pain?
I stood on the concrete,
Your blood had stained,
Wide circle of sawdust,
All I knew of you,
The remnants of your life,
The wind now blew,
From 40 stories up,
You lept,
Away from your agony,
You stepped,
Fates promise,
Now kept
JEV
Fell in love dancing
On a sawdust floor
A beauty I'd met
In a Texas bar
Blue eyes, golden hair
The night was made
For this romance
Two souls adrift
Came together
Something changed
She just smiled
Walked away
I watched
She was
Gone
5-9-20
Contest: Diminished Hexaverse
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Figurines fall from the shelf,
Death to the elf,
Puppets are sawdust once more,
Crushed on the floor.
Soldiers of Old Witch arrive,
Nothing’s alive,
Nothing but troops come to scorch
Toys with their torch.
Doll’s house is wantonly burned
Tea-tables turned
Over and everything’s spilled:
Rocking-horse killed.
Wheel romance....It hits you so fast and furious that it knocks the life out of you!!
Barn cool and shady
sawdust and leather
Earthy aromas like home
Muscles working
Pretty long dress flowing....
Eyes like a harbinger of emotion
Closing in on my heart.
open barn, horses red and white
farming and selling
orphaned teen trusts her over seer
Leads to love
Form:
The sawdust lay upon the floor
Each speck was well defined.
'Thanks be to trees, ' one said aloud,
'That we are nothing more! '
But one poor speck just would not rest,
'There was a plan! ' cried he.
'We're not just dirt the wind blows 'round, '
God loves us don't you see? '
So all the specks contributed
To God's anointed specks
Until the day the trash was burned
And all God's specks were dead.
Some stuff turns brain chemistry into a bowl of leeches.
Sawdust that you eat with a platter of fake mints.
When you have mixed up neural slices?
They get disposed.
Neurons.
Doing jumping jacks in unison.
Brains are like billboards.
They eat your eyes.
And get torn down like mush.
My brain chemistry is mine.
Witches brew mindset.
The neurons?
Never made it back.
They got squeezed too many times.
Validate Spring with its plenipotentiary pollen.
Green sawdust all about the ground, car and porch -
Shaken free from the jocund trees with budding leaves.
Before the season’s even warm, they’re all in.
The celebration of pubescent branches causes us
Below to agitated fits - eyes water, nasal drips.
Still we admire the fashion of pinks, whites, and greens.
The youths, so lovely in their resurrection dress.
3/21/2023
Frothy exhaust curdles the Lumpkin
pumpkin
Hard Cider breath exudes from
every male bumpkin
Screamin kids Crab apples into
melted taffy dunkin
Uncle Leroy's flabby ass into
shredded bale sunken
Aunt Polly on the sagging porch
swing drunken
Cousin Marie on sawdust kitchen
floor corn husks shuckin
Baby Liza in corn pone crib goat's
milk from RC botttle suckin
One-eyed Grandpa Moses up at
Bear Cove spelunkin
Overgrowths of arm-post life
Lift upward as my steam-breath
Vanishes thinly into the sky
Cool sweat drips deliberately
As the stacks grow larger
And the sawdust smells and sticks
The wagon-load will wallow obediently
As the frost bites cleanly
Through the still winter dusk
Ash white smoke curls softly
From the cut-stone chimney
Where a portrait of simplicity
Sleeps eternally in my mind
I am an endangered species;
A Seedling
Six Degrees of Separation;
Seceding
Smoke and ash;
Out of space brick;
Solar meteorites lunar eclipse;
From east to west from best to worst;
Bougainvillea
Broken condemned Villa;
Soldiers marching out the city;
Wreaking havoc there's no democracy;
Sawdust
Light lust
Denison's this place citizens;
concrete ?
2/16/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
turn around
the light is blue
the world is spinning
my wooden chair gives way
turn around
the light is blue
the devil is grinning
my wooden chair cushion is being gnawed on by the acid demons
turn around
the light is blue
frigid evil is winning
my old wooden guitar is now sawdust dinner for heartless termites
turn around
the light is blue
all and everybody is sinning
the pick used to strum my old wooden guitar is now looking for locks
Time to clean my shop,
Work will never stop.
Tools need to be put away.
Sawdust needs sweeping,
Cobwebs are creeping,
My soul is in disarray.
A pair of pliers,
Some speaker wires
Hang them up on the pegboard.
A set of drill bits,
Is giving me fits,
Problems can not be ignored.
If I’m feeling lost,
It’s too high a cost,
So cleanliness I’ll extol.
Then son of a pup
I’ll build myself up,
In my shop I’m in control.
ALOUTTE YOUR CLEANSING RITE
By Tony Lane
Dusty little towns
West of the Great Divide
Where great-grandchildren of cowboys
On ranches still reside.
Small western museums
With local antiquities inside;
Native American artifacts,
Some horse tack for a cowboy's ride.
There among the fancy
Are two dresses hemmed above the knee,
20's Jazz Age fashion
Worn far from the speak-easy.
Caused a bit of an uproar,
As they danced on the sawdust floor.
Who were these rebel cowgirls,
These flappers from western lore?