Short Trowel Poems

BUCKET OF SHAME
They made it easier
Standing in a bucket of shame
To be washed of all their negativity
And born anew to a
Trowel of meaning
Sharing in a group
Our insides
Made complete and safe...

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Oh, Imodium, 
Constipator of my colon, 
Immobilizer of my bowel; 
You make it possible 
For me to leave 
The house and take 
A long walk in the 
Countryside, without 
Having to remember 
To pack 
Toilet roll 
And a small trowel....

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Nice day to grow a trowel from a spade. A rake in a plant pot. And so a plantation gathers games for the skirts. Hahahaha and views of ten foot trees with apples. Hahahaha and a fried piece of hay with some corn. Xxxx agricultural z...

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Curved, un-curved.
The lines, my mind.
Recoil, explore,
Your life.
In green,
But the daisies keep on dying.
We do not care,
Of age or gardens,
Of trees or grass.
Pick up your trowel;
Dig hole,
Fill space,
Replant,
Move on...

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if you want to change
what you're all about
it's best you start
from the inside out

where the cracks aren't
so easily seen
you most often have 
the greatest need

as you work on it
with trowel in hand
a lifetime spent
with filling in

word to the wise
take this advice
start with the cracks
on the inside...

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Is your house built out of certainty
are the walls made thin or stout

Is your mind filled up with questions
do you live in fear or doubt

Is your spirit free or servile
is your will unchained or slave

Is your heart the trowel you build with
and love
— the bricks you lay

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
...

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Is your house built out of certainty,
are the walls made thin or stout

Is your mind filled up with questions,
do you live in fear or doubt

Is your spirit free or servile,
is your will unchained or slave

Is your heart the trowel you build with,
and love
—the bricks you lay

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)...

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Is your house built out of certainty,
   are the walls made thin or stout

Is your mind filled up with questions,
  do you live in fear or doubt

Is your spirit free or servile,
  is your will unchained or slave

Is your heart the trowel you build with,
  and love,
  —the bricks you lay 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)...

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Talent’s a gift
Like unto a seed
To be nurtured nourished and  tended
If left as a weed 
It will yet fill its need
To spread itself as it’s intended
A burstable  burden  bourn to be used
Like a chisel or trowel or a pen
To sculptor painter maestro or muse
Guiding a man in his action reaction
His quest of  perfection
A pointed direction 
Creative reflections 
Unfurled...

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into a reverie

secrets buried deep

conjuring forlorn cultures

layer upon layers unearthed

shards withhold a mystery

of lives longing discovery

layers peeled back with the trowel

grains of time tell-tale deep

the knowledgable eye observes

while nothing goes amiss

where a world of survival

and nature interact

layer upon layers reveal the mystique...

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Love Today...God Is...

What once was...was...
what is...it is...
what is to be...will be,

We can't take 
pieces of yesterday
and trowel together today...
nor chip away pieces of today
and fit together stones of tomorrow,

We must know 
each day is its own now...
won out of its own,

God is...can never be was...
will always be now...today:
thus is His love...is He...today....

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intelligence diverge upon starlight

shrouded in extrubiant relight

             candles melter in resplendent swelter


    i belt out a belting belter


wax drip drop drips on burned lips
swinging out swingsets from smashed and cracked hips

meow woof howl

digging in the sky with a trowel

drppng vry sngl vwl

oi ee ie oe

the end..................................again...

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Old Tom Sawyer went into St Bart’s
He said “Doc I am dropping huge farts”
The doc got a large trowel
To examine Tom’s bowel
As Tom’s flatus was way off the charts!

Doc announced, “My prognosis is clear,
But my findings you won’t want to hear -
The reason for the gas
Being passed from your ass
Is your diet of curry and beer!”

Checked using how many syllables
*St Bart’s is a famous hospital in London 

Removed from contest

09-14-17...

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[for a country doctor]

Here’s another beige plastic do-hickey 
busted. We’ll buy a new one, 
throw the old away.

But you would have tinkered it back 
till it worked. Thin physician hands 
adept at hammer, shovel, trowel, 
you could fix anything, or turn it
into something else of use.

These days, we can’t find a fuse.
Everything’s expendable.

After 87 years, you knew it was time 
to recycle yourself, to turn in 
your hands, your wrinkled gray eyes, 
your gentle smile....

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WHEN?: TRAVELLING WINDING LIFE... 

When will we
Sound the gavel
Of echoing justice?

When will we
Square the constitution
And trowel equity
Spreading restitution
Encompassing oneness
In 360 degrees?

When will we
See as the All Eye Seeing Eye
Sees and mirrors how it should be;
Taking the mystery out of life for you and me?

Well, we will when we
See the light: learning living 
Love lives as the one who conquered
All by the ripe blessed age of 33:-
Thus, so mote it be!...

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