Mortar Poems - Poems about Mortar

The truth about children, They’re tiny sparks that glow in the dark, They're embers that warm the space, They're treasures on an abandoned island, They're vessels of a worthy cause, They add colours to a gloomy day, Their silly acts cast a shadow on a bright day, Reassembling my childhood, Fixing the lost pieces, Straightening the contoured lines, Bringing back childhood memories, Admonishing, instructing and teaching, Letting...

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Weather When a life has been shared All the ups and the downs Through the warm and the cold In the air, on the ground There will never be more That ties two souls together Than the struggles and joys Of the seasonal weather So choose well and take care As your heart may deceive you; There's far more to love Than the enchanting...

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The women bending and pounding in rhythm was a vibrant bucolic sight. The long wooden pestles were powered by the human current. While grinding raw rice, they stopped to rest, and to crack jokes, which were embellished with erotic connotations, and were worthier than today’s TV humors. They made turmeric and coriander powder, when their delightful nasal...

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It fell from a dune Into my path This day Near where freshwater bubbles forth And waves push foam Fraught with tempest Of a southern sea Upon an isolated shore That would turn fatal for Two pieces Perfect In shape and size Mother with child Mortar and pestle I can only pray You rest in peace All Smooth So smooth After generational use A vision of people past Grinding, grinding Grinding away At a meager and humbled life Only...

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Each way I turn, there’s mortar and stone My chisel, nowhere to be found I’ve followed the path, the wind has blown Each way I turn, there’s mortar and stone I beg the breeze to leave me alone The storm, it won’t calm down Each way I turn, there’s mortar and stone My chisel, nowhere to be found...

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Fuse Milly the mortar bomb went bang! Her little bits of shrapnel sought out flesh. Her blast wave wanted to crush. Her tail fin stuck in an Argentinean's head. Milly's owner, Private Gonk, British Army, reloaded and fired again. He enjoyed his job. It's all about touching hearts with the thermonuclear flash, improving lives with the terrific...

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Intermingled, but not together In your presence, but still alone Hearing your words, but not your meaning Leaving your house —so far from home (Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)...

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When I was young I helped my dad to build a wall of bricks. He showed me how to mix the mortar so it rightly sticks. Start with water, then cement, some sand and then some lime, roll it in a mixer and take it out before its time. But something he would ask me caused me trouble in...

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Ring a ding the ice cream truck is pealing the monotone of a rut day to trap the rat no amount of cheese will make me budge the beauty of a flight to orbit the universe....

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once my heart was frozen, frozen until i saw his smile. he, he was the sunshine. i knew it the moment i saw his eyes. and i melted, slowly, not slow enough i melted. i thought that my walls were made of brick, i found they were really made of snow. beneath his gaze they...

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