Shovel Poems | Examples

LIFE OF A SHOVEL

I REMEMBER MY CREATOR 
A GREAT BIG BURLY LAD
I WAS SENT OFF TO THE HARDWARE STORE
TO DO THE SAME JOB AS MY DAD.
A YOUNG CHAP CAME A BOUGHT ME
HE TOOK ME TO THE SITE
HE MADE ME WORK FOR HOURS ON END
MORNING NOON AND NIGHT.
MY BLADE IS GOING RUSTY  NOW
MY EDGE HAS GONE TO POT
MY SHAFT THAT ONCE WAS RIGID
IS GOING SOFT AND STARTING TO ROT.
I KNOW MY DAYS ARE NUMBERED 
I'M PASSED MY USE BY DATE
COULD YOU TAKE ME TO THE FOUNDRY PLEASE
TURN ME INTO SOMETHING MORE ORNATE.
 IT'S HARD WORK BEING A SHOVEL
 I WANT TO RETIRE.

Pity the Shovel that Buries the Earth

Beneath a callused skin of light
the hunched and mustered
clap a prayer between a leaking sight.

It is the earth that mourns itself,
whether baldly thrown or loamy laid
the silent soil repaints its sullied shrouds
far beyond any atoning sorrow,
or cooling heart.

It is none but a laboring pity
to lay down the past
as deep as a weeping sky allows
or raise a hand only to tamp down
a new-turned mound.

Restless are the skewing worms
ever churning a blood-born mud,
eyeless they cover the once begotten,
cloak a hard pressed present and loss.
as the missing
deafly retreat beyond our ken.

Hear now the trilling birds,
how they far-fling their buoyant hymns,
see how they hop between their own bones.

Living Analog A Golden Shovel

The adventurous long for a journey
to the edge of knowledge and beyond;
You cannot quell the fire in the 
desire for an education withheld;
As technology explodes unfolding,
a wave of information rushes by;
It sits patient for a hungry grasping;
The intrigued and the doubt-ridden
possess the same breed of tenacity;
When you have tools to play with 
it’s not difficult to stay resilient; 
The gluttonous nature of curiosity
is no longer stifled by living analog.

Gwendolyn Revisits The Golden Shovel

...after Gwendolyn Brooks & Terrance Hayes


In this dim-lit hall, gathered close, we
Chalk our cues, faces worn but real.
Eight-ball in the corner, staying cool,
Brothers in the game, that's who we

Are. Schoolyard dreams we long since left,
Traded books for pool cues after school.
In this smoky haven loitering, here we
Find our place, amongst shadows we lurk

Quiet-like. Clock ticking, hour grows late,
But time don't matter much when we
Line up shots, aiming for that strike,
Playing it cool, playing it straight.

'Round the table, huddled close, we
Share our stories, raspy voices sing
Of life's hard knocks, fleeting joy, hidden sin.
In felt-green world, for now we're free, we

Hold on tight, though hope grows thin.
Raise our glasses, cheap whiskey, no gin,
To friendship lasting. Together, we
Make our music, spinning pool hall jazz.

Summer's ending, farewell to June,
We play on still, knowing in short time, we
Might not be here, where dreams can die,
Our final game coming too soon.

Runners and Dreamers

All my life,
I’ve ran from what is,
Out of fear, but hope too,
For my minutes with you are short.
I run for
You, I run towards you, afraid that all
Of us are broken, the
Clock does not mend lives,
It just breaks us again, so I
Will keep running, I have
Dreams, I’ve lovingly dreamed,
I run after them for those of
Us that are afraid to keep living.

Sevens, Shovels and Spades

Sevens, Shovels, and Spades

Dig, dig, dig. Black soil and stone
Earth worms wiggle , Decay bones

Dig, dig, dig, scatter seeds there
Sprouting, searching sun and air

Dig, dig, dig, To hide our dead
Six feet under, body bed

Dig, dig, dig, create new life
Born of earth, Feed appetites 

Dig, dig, dig, Shovel and Spade
Flowers grow from planted pain

Dig,  dig,  dig, Work never done
Then I see that I'm the one 

Dig, dig, dig , out of this hole
Skin so pale and Icy cold

Dig, dig, dig. Deep down inside
Reveal secrets graveyards hide.

In The Beginning A Star Wars Tribute Golden Shovel

In the beginning there were three;
An undisputed trinity of reasons 
showing audiences why; 
More enthralled with each scene were they,
a legacy this crowd helped build;
Culture shifted forever with this movie;
A dish served best with friends in theatres.


Star Wars Tribute 
‘Three Reasons Why They Build Movie Theatres

Beautiful Girl A Golden Shovel

I can’t tell you what to do 
the only one who knows is you;
But there is something you should know: 
No matter the  who, why, or what,
if you believe you can? You can do it;
Don’t let how disappointment feels
ever make you feel like 
what you want isn’t worth fighting for;
That relentless spirit is worthy of a
 crown; Stay brave beautiful girl.

Madonna Tribute

Poppies and Cornflowers

Day woke with the
choir of birdsong and a meadow
breeze, sweet as your kisses. What is
this joy that leaves me filled
with light, with laughter, with
the promise of forever as you crown me with golden poppies?
Our hands linked and
our tomorrows joined; my bouquet is a bundle of cornflowers.


Inspired by "How to Make it Snow" by Theodora Goss

Golden Shovel

Moment by moment and hour by hour, our
awareness dips inspite of sincerest
effort but if we choose childlike laughter 
as our orientation, suffused with
love and light innate to our soul, then some 
of the divine boons that accrue, ease pain,
which though stored in our subconscious, yet is
the cause of stupor, making us fear fraught.

We’re oblivious to the truth of our
soul’s divinity singing the sweetest
hymns but these sublime ethereal songs,
echoing the music of the spheres are
cognised in staid silence only by those
pure hearts, who have recognised we are that,
that may not be named; our light which does tell
our ego to be still, getting rid of
narrow cravings, that but cause the saddest
moments in life to arise, borne by thought.


Inspired by these lines:

“Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those 
that tell of saddest thought.” 

Percy Bysshe Shelly – To a Skylark

Golden Shovel

Yesternight, I dreamt of you and all our
together times. My soul swelled with the sincerest
love and lips parted in the merriest laughter, 
In my fantasy, you spoke softly with
the lilt of lilac melodies... My heart picked up some
strange sussurating rhythms and a pleasurable pain
assaulted my semi-drowned senses ~ Incredible feeling this is! 
Did we hold hands? Or is my imagination fraught
with frenzied desire? The day we first met in 'our'
garden behind your house brings back the sweetest
memories... I still hear and rejoice with the songs
of finches, bees and the billowy breeze. Then, there are
the myriad flowers I scent even today! Those
wildflowers you wove into a beautiful bouquet that
Spring evening? - I have them preserved - Yes, they tell
me the 'secrets' we shared and our promises of
'forever'... Emotion in my eyes as devotion cries in my saddest, 
loneliest hour, I wish dreams came true! ~ my last coherent thought... 


"Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought."
    Percy Bysshe Shelly – To a Skylark

Golden Shovel

Anon, she
briskly walks
covetous in
defining beauty.
Entertains, like
facelifting the
glamourous night,
hostess of
infatuating cloudless
jewels. Climes
kismetic and
lucky starry
manmade skies.
Noble and
obliging, all
prospectives that's
questioned--best
recollections; of
scintillating dark
timidly, and
unconscionably bright.

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright

~~Lord Byron – She Walks in Beauty

Golden Shovel

Exotic eyes stare back at me
a huge Heffner begging
for the attention of her musings
she dances and sways
in the darkness, the streetlights
highlight her deceptions
she thinks she stole my heart
blind, I see the meaning of true deceit
my wallets disappears between the sheets
she thinks she is silent
I hear every click
the credit cards makes
sadness stabs me
that the even the sheep are fake
kindness is a mask
on the canvas of life
make sure to paint the truth
Inspector Clouseau
has confirmed
the infidelity of it all

Mary Had a Lamb Not For the Golden Shovel Contest

In reply to Graig's contest using the example he supplied, with minimum effort on my part.

She signed her name, "Mary"
And she knew that she'd been had
Now, she'd never get the A
So she took it on the Lam....................................b

Golden Shovel

You told me that our
Love was the sincerest
You’ve ever had, in laughter
And with
Some
Tears, all pain
Is what it is
And although love is fraught
With hurt, you said our
Love was the sweetest
Like in the songs
You said we are
Above even those
They couldn’t describe that
Feeling you get when I tell
You I love you and we are cut of
The same cloth and every time we’re apart it’s the saddest
I’ve ever been and you are the subject of my every thought

Credit:
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
    Percy Bysshe Shelly – To a Skylark

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