Wooden Poems - Poems about Wooden

They built their kingdoms not on truth, But on blood and stolen youth. Their riches rose on broken backs, Their glory paved with cold attacks. Not thought, not craft, nor honest toil, But looted lands and foreign spoil. Their minds, not forged in sacred fire, But fed by greed and false empire. They called it freedom — masked in chains, Their system thrives on...

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My house is a living organism, with wooden veins and brick hearts that breathe stories, The cracks in the walls are lifelines, maps of hidden worlds, The white ceiling is my inner sky, where clouds of thoughts float in silence, The white paint is a canvas where memories dance in unseen colors, The dust in the corner is the...

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eds are deadly dangerous more people die there no matter young or old than anywhere else in the whole wide world (or so I've been told) and if it's not too late someone should legislate to outlaw and recall them all then instead we'll sleep on the floor so before you go up the wooden hills to Bedforshire and wend your weary way to the land of Nod if you...

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Once upon a magical evening an enchanted fairy I happened to see, dressed in a fantastical dress with two dappled wings of lace, she shone like the midnight sun; I must confess, she looked rather whimsical, sitting there by a green wooden door, waiting for your lore! Her eyes sparkled with spiritual wisdom, lips trembled a whisper of secrets, She...

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I want to give my only yellow mini tulip away To the daughter of my beloved late cousin, So the memory of her will never slip away From our minds and hearts deep within. I recently gave a symbol of love, a red tulip away To my newfound lover who I knew would win My heart in how he engages with...

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Unknown a wooden statue carved by unknown hands perhaps an E.T. worshipped by an ancient native tribe who witnessed unknown aliens ...

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scuffs in the pearl white floor when she leaves the room, for empty hospital hallway memories, haze of sterile gloom like snails, the chronic men each slowly wear away, their minds left to trail behind them, their faces falling into decay the grey walls with snake green stripes always constricting them, the dim fluorescent flicker of the fate to...

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Wooden Bench I set up acting and singing work for the wooden bench in the rock garden. I’m his biggest fan. I get 100% of his earnings. ...

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In my wooden form, stories I unfold A simple pencil with tales yet untold Gripped by hands i sketch dreams and plans A tool for artists, scholars, and fans With every stroke, ideas take flight, From blank pages to visions bright I wear down slowly but I never cease Creating worlds piece by piece Though small and humble I hold great power In...

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Wooden Box In my deep deep wooden box I keep: in triumphant completion of something’s; depending on whethers; keyboards with buttons who don’t make notes audible to the human ear; descriptions and reports on equipment and clothing for a specific activity; a few arrogant diplomats; cutlery who aren’t consistent with or aren’t in harmony or aren’t...

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Robert Sherriff - Australian - Poet -Author - Singer-Actor - American Historian – Photographer- Dedicated TO Shane Brooks Wooden Heart Over the past five years, I've overseen a team of 25 individuals, young men and boys, ensuring strict adherence to safety protocols. Some have described my approach as that of a tough boss who is meticulous in...

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The Wooden Shop Laughter mingled in the air, And happiness danced with immense flair, As they walked inside the vivid, wooden shop, Hearts reinforced by caffeinated drink drops! Colors painted across the small, glass spheres, As they walked hand-in-hand, nearer and near, Talking, and smiling, and teasing alike, For in those moments, they forgot life’s strifes, The beads weaved the golden seconds together, As they...

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He's a fine steed, made of a hard, shiny, dark wood, his stride caught in a pose of elegance and grace. She gave it to me in October 1985. It was my first true love affair - mutual, sincere. It was grand. While the sun only made one happy lap during that romance, that year lives...

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We walked to the ridge; A sinking feeling of sadness, The wooden bridge was down, Absolutely nothing, we could do, Nodding in agreement we left. 7/12/2024 Photo 5...

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If I had a nickel for the times Some politicians committed crimes How my money would soar Maybe twice as before I could turn those nickels into dimes Then I could buy a Senator's seat Kick back, relax, and put up my feet I'd promise everyone But then get nothing done And take a ride along easy street So as a...

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