Shed Poems - Poems about Shed

Welcome friends, I know you will be most excited with tonight's special guest that we have invited. So, let's give a round of applause and a cheer. Punctuation's star, Exclamation Point, is here.    Welcome.  It's good to see you, Exclamation Point. Yes!  Let's do it, Johnny!  I just got out of the joint! My goodness, I was going to say, you're looking...

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Mice in the shed, she demanded I do something. I found three mice, surprisingly easy to catch, like they had been saved. Living on old newspapers and stillborn manuscripts not much of a diet. Kill them, she demanded. I put them in a shoebox made a few holes and gave them some bread crumbs. In the tall grass, by the road verge I let them out, and that...

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I don’t know how many times I have shed my old skin, like a moth seeking light under the moonlit sky, Leaving behind pieces of myself that no longer knew my name, shadows of a silent past, I wandered through labyrinths of memories, seeking answers in echoes lost in time, Wondering if change is just another facet of...

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dark, musty old shed in the far corner of the school playground another recess transfixed by the dark texture of the wood all at once alone and home...

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How must it be for them, those without a place to shed their tears, Those who smile at the world but melt inside, Like a candle giving light, only to extinguish into darkness, Bearing the weight of an unease that remains silent and hidden. No quill transforms their pain into ink, No brush dissolves their sorrow into color, No sitar string...

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I’ve got 700 pounds of love to shed. What’s that? You didn’t hear me? Listen closely to what I’ve said: I’ve got 700 pounds of love to shed. Watch the way I move, Listen to my words. Feel the even flow—it comes and goes, Teaching me what I need to know. What form will this love take? How will it shape me as it...

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Perhaps primordial humans have fewer illusions to shed, fewer chains to break, While we, in the labyrinth of modernity, drown in waves of deceptive teachings, A soul must be ready to let go of everything, not just fleeting riches, But all the lies whispered to it, the entire brainwashing of society. One must leave behind false stories, free oneself...

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I shed tears every night, unseen, For dreams I’ve lost, for what has been. The silence speaks of wounds so deep, A restless soul that cannot sleep. Each tear that falls, a story untold, Of love, of pain, of days grown cold. I carry burdens no one can see,...

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Monday is coming..I can taste the dread.! a sacrifical Summit i see ahead.' The condemed has long snorted A magical power.? Dusty corners await now a'quiver to Devour' aquaintances are many, and friends will be few.' Times and a half times, once upon a time! (you were new) You've consulted the augeries, and laid out the bones Burned up the...

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He shed His blood for me, a crimson tide, Washing over the shores of sin and despair. A sacrificial lamb, in love He died, His grace is a bridge to the Father’s care. Each drop a promise, a covenant sealed, Flowing like rivers of mercy and light. In His wounds, the broken are healed, A beacon of hope in the darkest night. Through...

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We’re cleaning out the shed And tossing out a lot of stuff. Although we’ve filled up several bags, It isn’t quite enough. There’s so much more that’s left for us To go through and decide If it is destined for the dump Or gets to stay inside. Old toys and games and pots and pans And papers we don’t need, Which shouldn’t have been...

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Soul as mine eye’s my soul shed tears; Stained raining forth shadowing grows. Flows aloft, a top my minds membrane; This be new day dawning Sometime placement now This new provisions shroud Standing outside of time Yet holding inside of time Remember the former things Soul as mine eye’s my soul shed tears; I don’t remember the former things; Yet I do?...

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He shed the Last Drop For Me When the story is finely written And the speckled bird, about to fly When the counter has made his final count And the Spirit has tried his last try When the book is about to close And the pleader issued his final plea And the curtain is set to drop He shed his last drop...

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Shackles from our past suddenly shed When we face the demons in our head Courageously conquering the mystery Of what was rooted deep in our history The slate wiped clean for a fresh start As gifted the key to unlock our heart...

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Not a house Not a garage Not a place for tools I shouldn't be prescriptive Yet these have to be the rules A chair, a lamp A heater A kettle is the max A place of peace and quiet So that nothing then distracts I will allow a volume I will consume the words I will restore my whole With poets and the psalmists Strive to elevate...

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