Short Scouring Poems

invaders descend
brazenly scouring the streets 
unfazed by city...

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high up in the sky
     scouring the field for its food
the red hawk circles...

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Slick ellipsoid cold
Flat, compressed and finger smooth
Perfect skipping stone...

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I am an electric storm
Casting a dark purple sky
Winds of ultimate power
Scouring the wet land

Russell Sivey...

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Were the core of our planet gold,
Would we still be scouring space?
Or would we put the moon on hold
While to earth’s center we race?...

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hence,thence
with due diligence
birthing
scouring clean:
discard 
      the imperfect
experiment
   and reflect-
and traverse this bridge...

the immaculate beckons...

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Rebellion is a storm It rumbles
Tossing, scouring and rolling stubbornly
It tears here and smashes there
It roars and maul ferociously like a hungry lion
On it is trail ruins and destruction tell its tale...

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                                             Glisten fluid slosh,
                                 Plunging, hurtling, misting beads,
                                          Scouring stone shapes....

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This place where thorn bushes don’t flourish 
Punishing 
They wait for rain 
They dry out in pain 
Running blue blood from their core 
Scouring sun burns them slowly 
They die a senseless death 
In the dark...

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it’s tiring this wantonness
an aching inside drugs can’t cure
its between God and I
only He and my girl
can lift me up when down
something to find 
in these long days
like scouring the ocean floor
for a long lost pearl...

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He became a poet critic with a student loan,
quite like a Simon Cowell getting in their poetry zones,
scouring all the poet websites,
some poets not thinking it was right,
his constant critiquing making them all groan and moan....

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Listen to poem:

An ill wind blows
Straight across the land:
You can feel it now.

It’s a desert gale
That dessicates compassion;
A sandstorm
Scouring empathy from the heart.

It’s a parching blast,
A dry sirocco
That burns away kindness.

A wind that turns landscapes
Into arid civic ruin....

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seagulls looked for garbled shreds,
scouring up after stray throngs
signs creak to swing of ocean
conducting to the depressed pranksters.

Written: March 6, 2022

Lind30nr Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke

Lind30 form: 7-7-7-9
HMC.COM...

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Pushing his will against the status quo,
all time began to move

Scouring through each ominous lie,
veracity behooved

Giving with nothing left to give,
his soul turned inside out

Tomorrow dancing openly with yesterday’s dreams
—today no longer in doubt

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2019)...

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Like a bee, 
you wanted to land?
on the snapdragon’s,
curved lip.

Light years away?
a mouth gapes open;
you will not,
walk in.

A wrenching search,
for a home, where
you will not find
the violence.

A wax palace, you 
are invited to live in.
The dummies, abound,
without backbones.


Satish Verma...

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Scouring cerebral rooms.
Lost in the hallways of feeling.
Locked in emotional tombs.
Each key now revealing..
A door behind a door.
A mansion in my mind.
Apathetic drive carpeted floor.
Blue prints undefined.
Eclectic paintings hang.
Crooked on walls of peeling plaster.
Then my door bell rang.
Welcome to my mental disaster....

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Hawk


Hawk up the clouds on a close watch
Vermin that stirs to swoop and catch!
Foraging for carrion is also its culture
The soaring, scouring hungry vulture!

So is He who dwells High and Above
Watchful always with an eye of Love
To see what stirs in Pain or in throe
Wounds to sooth and redirect its toe!


07th Oct’ 2013...

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Stars ~ swept across the sky to where you are,
swept across the plain, like some full field in flowering,
swept across my mind, like newness towering ~

My love, some gracious airing, spacious and of powering,
as nothing hindering for its devouring,
and then it is at last, the truth so scouring ~

That love itself, consumes the lovers ~ glowering!...

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Women and children muddle through debris
Scouring the rubble for possessions lost
War-torn Middle Easterners might agree
That there is nothing worth this cost
So many children will not have beds tonight
Because nations believe might makes right





Written September 28, 2019
For Joseph May’s “Make It Six” poetry contest
Chose image number four...

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Be not like lazy unproductive people who only depend on easy money for a living. 

'Cause on their deathbed, they'll be asking themselves if what have they accomplished. They could have been better if trey tried to be productive, other than scouring upon other people's litter. 

They are like dirt whose only task is to stick upon someone's fingernails. 

January 23, 2024, PST, SPC 

...

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Once verdant land, now dormant 

Scouring winds disrobing trees.

Patterns on the woodland floor, 

In tapestries of fallen leaves.

Squirrels readying for sleep

Gathering nuts, tending dreys

Little creatures line their nests

Anticipating winter days.

As autumn finally takes her leave

And winter dons the crown

The woods shall fall silent,

When snow lies on the ground....

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Nobility


Scouring for something to read
Someone else to be,
I am lost in this dark sparse room
With nothing to do.
Stuck in a neuronal loop
Of the neurotic mind.

I want to be noble.
Fight with a crowd of rebels 
For a righteous cause
Or die
Saving some small child.

Then rising from this clamor
To a state of bliss,
Die with the truth
Still safe on my lips.

John Thomas Tansey...

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I stand in a corner
with a flickering soul
reminiscent of a sentinel 
standing apt in a full armor suit,
now rusting at the seams,
Like an abandoned lighthouse
on a deserted isle
with a whirling glowing eye
scouring the choppy water
for the lost souls
amid gathering fog
and a foreboding storm.

No sirens of the sea
have sung in recent times
to lure those lost at sea 
to their rocky coast....

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Mummified body
Scouring on Halloween
Lurks into the night

The bandages falling off
Creepy skin is rotting

There are many treats
Within the old mummies heart
Candy corn inside

The living sweets
Keep the mummy alive
Gives kids their snack 

The black cats keep watch
To guard these candy sweets

People avoid the cats
For fear that bad luck will hit
Mummies love their pets

Russell Sivey...

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War go to hell
war go to hell
War go to hell
Blackbirds are scouring
White birds are cowering
Our ballet of life souring 
War go to hell
We have collected an empty shell
Me, Franz, Sirin, Sudha, Rachel ,Noel
We won't allow any powder smell
War go to hell
Blackbats are scouring
Our wills are towering
Our gardens are flowering
With skyward fists we do tell
War go to hell
War go to hell
War go to hell...

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