Sieve Poems - Poems about Sieve

Time is a sieve through which everything slips what once mattered rendered meaningless as our lifeblood drips onto the clay creating a muddy bog that in our well worn boots we wearily slog like tired Tommies in the trenches waiting with bated breath for the shrill sound of the officer's whistle to pierce the fusty fetid air and send...

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What's happening.. what's happening to me? Why,oh why what use was that? The tears, the trials.. the silences of words left unsaid.. the ups and downs What use was that? The wrinkles,the lines the aches and pains.. heartbreaks and joy that each compound I pick up a pen, I write it down As a chrysalis to a butterfly a poem to emerge.. from a mosaic of memories to an inspiration surge....

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Beneath a tall magnolia I sat And watched the slender birch trees oft caressed By wind and sunny tenderness, and blessed With quiet air above the grassy mat. Beyond the trees, a tall Artesian fount Would pour its misty sprinkle on the lake, Where turtles basked before the sun to take The pulse of Pan’s calm heart, in restful count. An...

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Having mind like a sieve is not always so bad For discernment in life is a gift Information jams can cause a Teutonic shift. For some, winnowing facts is a hard thing to do Whether used for retention or letting things through A good sieve has a value like ‘greater jihad.’ Though we meet our rejection sometimes with a frown We should...

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The Sieve of Time Cast ashore, along the banks of time, whirling through the passing years, clinging to my futile scribbles set in rhyme, Cast ashore, thrust into an unrehearsed pantomime, clenching slivers of joy as weariness descends, lulled into a peaceful slumber exhilaratingly sublime. Cast ashore, hazily adrift, a dandelion seed on the wings of time, trapped in the sieve of spiralling memories, caught between pristine...

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Over the length of time in search for perfection, a crucial thing remains as the core of my travails; hardly a fulfillment, a negation to aim this goal, for it’s impossible and never gets to fruition. Attempts have always been on the horizon, thinking that perhaps it can be possible; however, experiences have proved so well, that I’m just human, weak in...

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