Short Unpolished Poems
Short Unpolished Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Unpolished by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Unpolished by length and keyword.
It was her rough edges
which caught my eye.
Like a raw diamond
I fell for her
unpolished beauty.
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© 13th May 2017
An uncle unpolished
The polished bamboo strips
He was astonished
When he was admonished
And repolished the polished strips.
29.12.2020
Tongue Twister.
Inner beauty is
An unpolished diamond
Sculpted by the vivencies
Molding a new you
Passing the tests life presents
Like fire forged metal
10-13-2015
The sharp edges
spiky points
that once sliced
mercilessly.
Round and mellow
with age
tempered
by incessant
pounding waves.
The world now viewed
through an unpolished lens;
a pale blue haze.
Contentment isn’t something found
in distant hills or future days.
It lives in small, unpolished things
the warmth of tea, a breath of wind,
the grace of choosing this is enough.
I like you all unpolished
the words around three a.m.
the rawest version of you
when your words are pounding hard
all chipped with rough broken phrases
the fortress crumbled slowly
softly your pain pricked my eyes.
if my tomorrow were to come
with unpolished skies
still my day would shine
amidst thoughts of you
in this breadth
of night's chill
i am wrapped
in the depths
of dreams
as they awaken
beneath the veils
of darkness
JOURNEY TO SPRING
Dark bass of November’s unpolished brass
Trumpets no light to pass
From dead December’s muffled drums -
Makes all ears numb.
Finely pitched January’s strings
Their blue sky path sing
To February’s ebony flutes -
Mellow as Grecian lutes.
Popeye
I’m a ruffian
I’m unrefined
Still unpolished
What’s mine is mine
I’m a ruffian
An un-tumbled stone
Got rough edges
So I live all alone
I’m a ruffian
Like Popeye says
"I am what I am,
And that’s all that I am.”
By: Bill MacEachern
October 17, 2022
Crying in silence,
vacancy needing a beat;
Something was missing;
Failing to exist;
Melody that’s not breathing
stuck inside your head;
A note with no soul
changing the sounds and volume
the cymbol crashes;
Influential tone,
the tempo found it’s echo;
I’ll be the drummer;
You were an unpolished song,
I kind of completed you.
In any argumentation,
there's none as unanswerable
as a smug diner's opinion.
You gush about chilled champagne,
To my unschooled taste buds,
that's simply bottled, sugared rain.
And you adore sturgeon caviar.
To my unpolished palate,
that's salty clay dipped in tar.
No debate about the agendum.
No dispute in matters of taste:
De gustibus non est disputandum!
center>I unearth a penny coin,
oxidated,
a green coat of verdigris.
Numbers reveal,
an age,
one that is decades away
from its mint condition.
I am part of the earth now,
unpolished
gold mutated to copper,
yet still worth
spending.
I have been buying time
deep in the earth of myself.
What the sky now sees of me
is yesterday's sunrise,
and today's shining.
MY SALAD DAYS
I was silly, little stupid
I was naughty, little timid
I was choosy, little crazy
I was fussy, little lazy
I was raw, unpolished
My salad days most cherished
I questioned, I observed
Some Wisdom I gathered
Few mistakes, few lessons
A lifetime experience!
Date:28th October 2016
For Contest 229 any form,any topic max of 10 lines
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Kindness is a rare, unpolished gem,
A steady, quiet spark
Hidden deep inside us.
It is an open, reaching hand
Extended with no strings attached.
It is a whisper of solace,
A living action aiming to mend,
Marking forever—not in silence—
What the gesture made flawless.
It is fiercely resilient,
Refusing to make excuses.
It is a quiet fire
Guided by bravery,
Burning for everyone to see.
Mans inspiration steals its way
Unobtrusively to mind
Like a cat burglar on a heist:
Stealthy, but it comes not to rob
Intellectual property
But to deposit a priceless gem
Still unpolished yet nonetheless
Precious to a creative mind.
Unlike a diamond in the rough
this gems luster is most fleeting
whose innate beauty potential
is measured in nanoseconds
thus leaving little precious time
to create a faceted gem.
Stirred.
Blurred.
Deferred.
A haze of thoughts.
In the raw.
Unprocessed unpolished.
Ethereal feral.
Impulses really.
I might drown.
A sea of ambiguity.
Random content
in my private universe.
At times, I want to scream and be heard.
But all in time that can’t be rushed ~
Excerpt from Collaboration with Kirk Tierney, based on my poem 'Writing Is How I Connect'/ Painting by Suzanne Van Bebber
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Silence reigns 'tis midnight hour
I'm weak and feeble he will empower
Decided to petition creator
Tranquil time with humanities maker
Am in search of gentle respite
Away from unrest and turmoil of life
Empathy absent on our earthly sphere
Rise of indifference - unpolished sneer.
Cleared my mind of negative thought
Waiting on answers away from onslaught
Stillness of midnight a quite wait
Humble and hopeful I supplicate.
The angels, with their folded wings
walk on silent ground
They know not whether
to weep,
or wield their sighing harps.
It seems like hearts are stones,
or jewels would they be?
Precious gems, maybe.
Of different hues,
with scattered light.
Encrusted, unpolished
by time and tears,
and by things spoken
and not...
The angels, moving forward--
with their timid halos
and shorn heads-
their soles
touching sacred ground.
156a20612272013r1120
I'm not amused
It's overload
My brain is fused
At 4am
I miss my friend
Insomnia will never end
The poet's lot: a search for meaning
Unpolished thoughts
Need feathers preening
The cluttered room
Inside my brain
A Springtime dust, again
But what of heart?
In darkest night -
Does bird of love take flight?
A prayer I claim..
Dear Lord of sleep
Protect my heart and soft soul keep
From calloused outer
Worn, or lost
Inspire once more.. despite the cost
I miss the days of innocence
Of sluttiness without repercussions
Where beauty was only of character
And Aesthetics was a vague awareness
/filtered in/
From the outside world only
Unpolished 'diamonds' in the rough
You can stay in the rough forever
(As long as you are in the all-girls' school)
Note: this poem ain't meant to defame or disgrace. It's the truth of my perspective, looking back on my secondary school days in Singapore. In fact, this recollection is with fondness.
Form:
"Train Ride to Central"
After the performance,
opera
never tasted so good
kissing all the way
back to Central
the platform,
home base
if you will,
time to gather in
everything-in-between
the train ride
fast and smooth
but never clean
windows entranced
life lingers between
the touch of fingertips
on your surfaces
unpolished
secrets passed
between lips
all signals dripping
ultraviolet
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)