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Foot meets the metal of a cold shovel
with a sun beaming down
booted foot pushes the *****
into the soft and rooty ground

one mound of dirt
sweat forms above the brow
two mounds of dirt
salty bead slithers down
three mounds of dirt
tuned into the sounds
four mounds of dirt
birds chirp all around

stopped by a thick root
extra force must be used
give that shovel a pogo of boots
and we are at the fifth mound

six and seven are easy
as the hole starts to round
eight nine ten eleven twelve
a tomb has been found

carried your sheet covered corpse
laid you in the hole
cover you with what was uncovered
creating a man made knoll

Six years of memories
laid underneath this red dirt
many years missing
that time gone subvert
cait-cait Jun 20
when i was little ,
dad handed me a shovel and
he handed me
a dress.

he taught me how to dress myself
and then how to garden ,

to dig each hole
in soft
           flesh and soil.  

ive grown up since,
gotten taller,
and can hold
the shovel by myself ,

so
i dig graves now instead .

ive saved one for dad ,
                               and ive saved one for me.

six feet deep ,
                        it’s a bed with no blankets
and it’s
perfect ,
and
it’s mine —

and
i want to be buried in a dress
i can button
                     all
                         by myself ,

because
dad also handed me a shotgun.
you've made this bed, now lie in it!
Gray Jun 16
I scooped up a shovel full of dark brown dirt.
The midday sun beats down causing sweat to drench my t-shirt.

Soon this will be all over, right?
I guess i’ll feel more at ease when it becomes night.

Another scoop of thick hard soil.
With each motion i feel my burning arms recoil.

I cannot believe i got myself into this.
This is something I’ll definitely never be able to dismiss.

Is it wrong that I am barely feeling guilty?
I think i’m more concerned how my clothes are so filthy.

I roughly once again dig deep into the earth with a large amount of force.
Perhaps there will be one day where i’ll finally feel remorse.

Finally the hole is covered.
Fingers crossed that it doesn’t ever get discovered
Sam Jul 2017
Dig
I was in a trench with all my sorrows

When all I needed was a rope
When all I needed was a ladder

You threw me a shovel
The Ripper Nov 2016
VVe vvrite words
to fill in the emptiness
as if they vvere concrete patches
for neglected sidevvalks
that nobody vvalks on
Carry on
D A R K  poets
Toss that alphabet
tovvards my shovel
let me bury it
forever
Steve May 2016
A silly old sod on a building site
Couldn't figure it out try as he might
Lined up there against a wall
Two shovels one pointed and one quite tall
But when asked to take his pick
He stood scratching his head, the daft we ****
Frank Ruland Nov 2014
And there I was--digging away inside of a bleak, cavernous mine in search of something worth bringing home for all my blood, swear and toil. The work was grueling, the conditions were bleak, and even when the canary in my rib cage stopped singing, I chipped away at the endless wall of **** in front of me.
     I couldn't remember just how I had ended up in those unforgiving depths, and sometimes in the midst of all the darkness, I swear I saw the barren, angled face of Death. And I would smile back.
   There were times when I just started to eat the dirt, in the futile hopes of making it disappear from my sight forever, just so there was less of it to look at and remind myself of all the hurt. But there I was, stuffing my face full of muck and grime. I suppose I was a glutton for punishment the whole time.
     But then, after so much doubt, bleeding from my mouth, and wanting to bash my brains out, I found it. A jewel. A diamond in the rough. My piece of precious gold that was now my only worth.
     I took my find back through the mines, and broke out into the light of day. But I'd become so pale, and my soul so adjusted to the dark, that it hurt to be beneath open skies once more. But I stood there, burning alive, with you in my hand. It was worth it. Until I looked more closely at my haul and realized the treasure was nothing more than Fool's Gold, but it was I that had brought things to fruition.
     So there I stood, with my worthless rock in my hand now weighing me down as the skies seared my soul and rendered my flesh nothing more and nothing less than an utter mess. My options were to stay here and hope I readjusted to these abnormal conditions, or turn back and once more descend back to the depths from whence I came.
     I guessed I had to find a better way of shoveling.
I haven't written a freestyle in a while, but I hope you guys like it. I know it's a little long, but I tried to keep it interesting. It was all off the top of my head. Please let me know what you think.
It's 3am and I am wide awake
I have vicious nightmares at times,
Not horror movie types,
Just ones that I fear the most.
Being buried alive is bad--when it is the one you love it is even worse.
I hear him scooping the dirt in the shovel,  and pouring it on me.
"You really fell for it. All I had to do was pretend that I liked you,  and you fell right in."
He chuckles, as another pile of dirt is added.
Im begging him
"Please,  what do you want?  I'll do whatever you want,  just let me out! "
He chuckles again,  "You say that....they always say that... But you know what?  You lie,  all you women just lie your way into jobs, relationships,  and ****, even in marriage! You think I'm going to suddenly believe you out of all of them?! "
The casket is slightly sinking from all the dirt that is piled on now.
I'm sobbing uncontrollably as I realize my fate.
"I'm different, you said it yourself. When I met you,  you said--"
"Well I lied.  I'm getting pretty good at it.  Practice makes perfect."
I continue to cry, and my one last attempt at freedom--
"I love you. "
He stops shoveling, and with a raggedy breath,
"...What? "
I open my heart for my last plea,
"I give my heart fully to anyone that accepts my quirks and even the weird parts about me.  In the brief time we knew each other,  you laughed at my corny jokes,  smiled at me,  and even wanted to know about me.  So even as I am about to die,  
Why would I lie with my last words?  I might as well say what I truly feel because that is what I do. I fall headfirst in love with someone I barely know,  and that is why I always get heart broken no matter what.  So what I just said I meant it. "
He paused,  then he tosses the shovel down beside the hole,  and he jumps down into my grave,
"Well,  I--
My eyes snap open.
It's 3am and I'm wide awake.
I am experimenting with conversation.
I do have nightmares, along with this type,  they are also extremely violent. Hopefully, one day I can have more pleasant dreams. Thank you to everyone that reads this,  follows,  or even likes it!!  I greatly appreciate it!!
Frank Ruland Sep 2014
In my experience,
knives
can solve
four out of five
everyday problems.
A shovel solves
the remaining
one.
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