Short Uncultivated Poems
Short Uncultivated Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Uncultivated by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Uncultivated by length and keyword.
Splendid, sepulchral,
uncultivated yet beautiful!
the last flower of Latium...!
Black and sticky
Karma filled up
Wears me down
Achy swelling
Universal truth
Virtue uncultivated
State changed
Rebirthed anew
Matters energy
Never ending
Reformed anew
With karmic debt
Repayment due
Suffering, (dis)ease
Attachments galore
Cosmc disconnect
The rose, having
no longer
place to go…
for even, outside the gardens,
the wild well knows
that beauty, uncultivated,
never grows….
One does not use
soil tilled
by a scalpel;
and bodies of
unborn
to fertilize…
such eyes
cannot blossom
(though the shape
of bulbs)
nor ever produce
for the nose
one fragrance
divinely
pleasing….
The rose, having
no-longer
place to go…
for even, outside the gardens,
the wild well knows
that beauty, uncultivated,
never grows….
One does not use
soil tilled
by a scalpel;
and bodies of
unborn
to fertilize…
such eyes
cannot blossom
(though the shape
of bulbs)
nor ever produce
for the nose
one fragrance
divinely
pleasing….
The dahlias were once,
they bloomed once,
now they are churning earth,
in a faraway time
making a living by dying.
Dead, the flowers are dead,
yet the dirt is alive with their progeny.
Uncultivated buttercups
are seeding green pastures,
weeds are building trestle bridges.
Fertile bones are mating in a humming mud
Nothing is too faraway,
to be dead for long.
Soon the heart blooms also.
Pooling are drops of vermilion blood,
leaving their immortal mark for keeps.
Expunged restless energy is flowing.
Canine marked skin and a purr flowing,
just shy of breaking the skin for blood.
A sound cradled in a whisper keeps.
Uncultivated hysteria the sunset keeps
takes control of the connection flowing.
The unwilling at the mercy of their blood.
The victim’s tepid blood keeps flowing.
Today, of all days
Let's not make a deal
Out of sleep deprivation
There's a bag
Upon the back
That stands ready for invitation
...to spill
Expectations collect
Wanting love to appear
On scattered lines
Were you desiring
A truth bomb
From an uncultivated mind
...to heal
A moment, a pure moment
Where one sees
And desires the perception
Is the acceptance
One must experience
Out of a far fetched inspection
...to reel
Presence
Written by Trudy Schrader on 12-24-2022