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Larry B Feb 2011
Here's another story that I just made up
That just can't wait to be told
About a weary prospector, down on his luck
That gave his life for his gold

He was way up yonder in the hills, they say
Just him and his scrappy old mule
That poor old mule didn't have no teeth
So he'd sit around the camp and drool

Now that prospector, who we'll call Jake
Was as secret as he could be
He didn't like people snooping around
So he wasn't much for company

See, Jake had been on that mountain
For nigh on twenty years
But he never did hit the mother load
With all his sweat and tears

Then, one day he decided to go fishing
A fish pulled him right in the river
He tried to hang on with all of his might
It's hard to do when you shiver

Jake looked up and was headed toward the falls
So he decided he'd better let go
When he dropped that line, he sunk like a rock
And started thrashing to and fro

Now, Jake was a real good swimmer
He was on the prospector's Olympic team
But, everytime his head went under
All he could do was scream

Now Jake had prospected his whole life
But now, he was getting pretty old
He didn't know the reason he was drowning
But his pockets were full of gold

When he figured it out, he had gold fever
And he refused to let it go
All poor old Jake could think about
Was he finally hit the mother load

See, when that old fish had ****** him in
He was dragging him on the bottom
There was gold just laying everywhere
And that's where his pockets got 'em

Poor old Jake drowned that day
Richest man in the world, I think
His old mule was standing on the bank
Drooling, as he watched him sink

They fished his body out of that river
The next morning before dawn
But they found both pockets as empty as could be
It was stolen by a leprechaun

Well, I guess it's time for me to go
I can see as I look at my clocks
But if you really wanna protect your prospector's gold
Then let me suggest Fort Knox
Baby May 2014
You know that bowl that I carry around in my belly?
Too heavy for my frame, I've carried it precariously, trying not to spill.
I've used it to catch the steady drip that's been there since forever. I've used it to catch the rocks that I hurled up like a juggler (to find where I begin). You've taken it, and now you're swirling the contents, rinsing them with your own feelings, your own words (yourloveyourloveyourlove). All the garbage, the petty insecurities and fearsfearsfears, wash out and leave behind the heavier stones and metals that I've used to construct myself, contain myself.
The material of my foundation exposed, you continue to rhythmically, relentlessly reduce me to the shimmersilt at the bottom of the bowl.
Eroding.
Simplifying.
Until you're left with the specks of gold that you say define me.
The evidence of treasured trust that remains after I've allowed you to dump out my contents with gentle, sweeping motions.
Jacob Oates Apr 2013
Sift I will and hold in path of

current's latent aftermath

heart befell, and breath in current

breath could tell, and most confirm it

Depth befell, a host affirmed of what compelled

the most determined

love's to sell and what could earn it

lust and amour, yet shift in focus

love of current, and opened play

could last it til, preferred today

now compulsion packs a passion pact

to back adaption banter tact

intact of what could help me focus

attraction stacked and traction bogus

love don't need to own possession

love just needs to show expression
Christopher Sep 2014
Give me a pebble and I'll give you a diamond.

Give me a tear and I'll hand you a smile.

Give me your worthless worries
your hopeless heartbreaks
your endless encumbrances
your inured infractions.

Stone me,
Pelt me,
Inundate me
with your misfortune.

Load me with your burdens
So at the end of the day once you're weary of these timeless toils
The mirror shows not the creases of creation
but you.
Not really sure what I was going for here, but I jokingly always tell my friends that I'm a silver lining prospector so tried to portray what I think of me. I didn't mean to write "me" there, but I guess that's what I was trying to do. We all need an anthem; I guess this is mine.
corey wilson Dec 2011
You set my world on fire you're my greatest desire.
Like a miner or prospector i must perspire as i search for the sweet sacred nectar that is of your flower.
As your nectar trikles off your flower releaseing so much power.
I can feel the nectar's calming powers  as it drips off the lips as i take a sip and a quick lick.
You're the most beautiful thing in this universe's sector there is no better not even god can make a replica or even try to make you better and nothing even comes close to being almost better.
I wish i could write you a letter but maybe this poem will be better.
Like reading it might make you shake and shiver maybe even quiver.
Like when im caressing your body with a feather  or strapping you down and playing with leather.
OOOOOH BABY!!!!
I love the look in your eyes as they fill with surprise as you force open your eyes and let out a magnificent  passionate  cry of love lust and exstasy begging me for more.
As your getting wetter and wetter and then i smell that sweet sweet nectar i know i found my prize i knew it from the very second i looked into those gorgeous angel like eyes ******* im glad i get to be your guy.
Then i remembered lifes so much better on this side of the glass that is playing with you gin and always letting you win in the garden of love
MY TRUE LOVE THATS YOU BOO YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU<3 <3 <3 <3 <3
grumpy thumb Oct 2015
My heart feels old today
it rattles like a stone in a can.
My eyes feel cold today
as they strain for gems in a prospector's pan.
My feet feel heavy today
trudging the ruts I've created time and again.
My thoughts feel tired today
they eloped with all hope and ran.
Gant Haverstick Feb 2019
the valley of gold
closer and closer, always
just over the ridge
Gant Haverstick 2019
Carly Two Jul 2013
Blush in a shade of bruise
leaving trails on collars and bones.

"Siren, siren
Body language me.
Concave me in wrong angles.
Sift through my sand and prospector me."

Every man wants to be saved by an angel
but heaven's just a mirror of hell.
Copyright, C. Heiser 2013
Gabriel Feb 2014
The steps are the steps
inward and flowing,
downward and away,
no time for possibility,
my mind has gone astray.
I chase not the chance of a certain moment,
I planned the time it took to hold it,
Not the falling that morphs the thought,
It is the telling that is yet taught,
We are rarely are own dreams,
Most times battling internal screams,
Merely a prospector of our own demands,
Turning to keep a little head above the sand,
That is thick and I am sinking oh so quick,
into a ground that devours my wit,
Making it so hard for me to state,
But I can't understand why she won't open the gate.....
Stephen Apr 2014
You carefully placed the shackles over my heart

And held your posture in a careless poise

As if the galaxies around your head

And the golden clouds spinning from your lips

Were as natural and as merely there

As the pollen falling off trees in the summer

Before you died during the winter

Just like the trees

That you used to play in the roots of as a child,

The moss around you transferring its spirit into you

Unknowingly

Growing into a fragile disenchantment

A fragile discord

A fragment of an untrue memory

Worth dying for

So you chased the golden threads

That ran though your experience of life

Like some starving prospector

Searching always for the dream that would make you

Whole

But deep down you knew that your dreams

Were woven into an ethereal tapestry

Crumbling

Paint chipping off a cracked concrete wall

Withering to a powdered dust

Oh you knew

You knew

That I wished I could have understood

What our bodies together would have felt like

Maybe like the bark of my childhood trees

Divulging secrets into my ears

That no one would ever understand

But me
Things either pan out or you get out
there are no other choices,

fool yourself and we all do
we all make do
and then one day
when the making do
doesn't do it for you
you get out.

I am a dreamer
and she seems a nice girl,
a sugar and spice girl,
but dreams are sometimes
nightmares.
Digging for gold
and
diggin' it old,
though those young
buckaroos disagree,
they're always
looking for a *** down
a gun fight
a show down
I sit waiting for a
Sundown.

Radio Clementine
belting out
'Red River Valley'
for an old poke like me
it's right up my
alley.
Annie Feb 2017
Komarovsky knows better
Than Pasha
What Lara wants.
There is no need
To hide the truth
It doesn’t tremble
- An ashy ******
    In the dark.

But Pasha only loves
The untouched lie
Like Narcissus
He is drowning  
In the the illusion
That the rippled
Waters provide.

And you Persephone
You’ve read this book
Know this script
But still you look
For the daffodil
In Hell.

You’re a prospector - my love
You’ll spend your life
Chasing hope
Corianding for nuggets
Amongst the dross
   -And it will seem
    When something gleams
    That you have won
But it is only pyrite
That the rippled waters provide.
Justin Lai Jan 2021
part of my brain thinks you're a phony.
the rest of it knows we're just the same.
~
what if i were a pastor
comfort in the fear of an all-loving god
would i be hapless like a prospector
tailing the gold rush, seeking
sour grapes instead?

child, i do not pretend to live your pain.
though if i were to drop this cross and collar
all that they thought i was
would you let your story be heard?
Ciel Noir Jul 2018
Dissect a sentence and collect the nectar
Sift the syllables like a prospector
Weave a web of vectors and connectors
Dialectic effecters connect all sectors
Decks of detectors
Refractors and reflectors
Let the next generation necromancer
Reflect inflect project effect
a reverie
a revenant
an indirect electric spectre
Lucas Grant Oct 28
To he honest I'm pretty ******* tired of being on my own
Im not really
But still my lack of love makes me angry
Yet I'm Y
               oU
                    N
                        g
That's what everyone else says anyway
Still I'm crazy and no longer problematic
Happy but never enough to prevent sadness
Out to most but still hiding from the majority
Avoiding the conflict I once used to untimely cause and angry at my protagonistic temperament
Raising it's head once in a foreign land
But it didn't last long because previous pain is still there
The oppositions have since dropped from the ceiling to an unknown cause but my webs are still in position camping out in the corner
a silk prospector expressing only malevolent intent
Never really meaning and now that im controlling the pain it's hard to admit, but there's part of me that still reigns in the areas of that room
Skulking through the tears usually my own labelled jester for those on that egotistical throne
So maybe my confidence flickering and unnerving, split between the characters I get to play between the seasons is one of the significant catalysts and thousands of reasons that I'm now on my own
everyone an opposition on my radar
the choice,
to be a villain for the people of my past or be trampled over by those in my present, an insight into my future.
That's if I make it because my obvious disdain is a recognizable trait like my unbearing love and attraction for Unrequited beauty and my I'll advised impulse to avoid the problem
                     make a list of all my excuses
           And Run to the next person most likely to become my biggest predator when I unfurl infront my secrets and ambitions secret Acts of betrayal while on independent side missions
    Diagnosed as ****** and unmedicated
              Mad when alone
    Discontent with my social standing
  And just wanting someone special to.                         bring home
Would like to release a short collection of poetry like an artist would release an EP to give people a taste of their music but I'm scared of what people say as I love writing but sometimes I feel that I'm searching for validation and I know i shouldn't but I just want to let people hear my words and enjoy/relate to my poetry
poetryaccident Oct 2019
This prospector of a kind
for a treasure none can mine
instead the search taps the vein
of bent souls much the same

to find otherwise is the norm
that cookie-cutter life implores
sets the highs and the lows
into which all must flow

even while the traveler seeks
the camouflaged who prescribe
with the outer while the insides
twist away from standard’s set

into arms of fellow kinks
measured by a knowing wink
the prize measured in the twist
recognized by the self-same.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191003.
The poem “Self-Same” was inspired by my admiration of friends who are as non-normative as this poem’s author.  I feel less alone in the world knowing there are fellow travelers. A shared characteristic is the need to appease the greater populace, only showing the colors when safety allows.
BigT Jul 2020
OIL
An energy hungry society
Forces us to look deeper and further than ever before
For the hydrocarbon we call oil
We **** the blood from centuries old life forms
Buried deep beneath the crust of this planet
We **** it up like soda through a straw
Re-injecting water to fill the gap and help to heal the sore.

It is not an easy task
Men and equipment transported and working
In some of the most hostile environments on the planet
Are we witnessing Natures way of protecting herself,
This world and the people on it?

Deep beneath our oceans and our seas
The treasure trove awaits
Mankind seeks it out, to ease his balance of payments
Mother Nature fights back as only she can
Winds and waves pound the intruders
Forcing them to designs beyond normal expectations.

Lives are given and lives are lost
Fortunes come and go
All based on the investment and return ratio.

Fragile desert ecosystems and precious ground water aquifers
These have only recently been taken into account
And then only superficially.
“We need to drill, we know where to strike black gold”
The local populace is told
Pristine desert sands cleansed for centuries
By the roaming desert winds
Now clogged with the thick sludge of oil
This is the price we have to pay.
The wastes are not removed
They are covered to blend with the desert feature
They are left awaiting rediscovery,
By some poor unsuspecting desert creature.

Deep swathes cut through rain forests
“Build a road 12 meters wide, so pollination is not effected” say the experts.
“Clear some more now, we need a pipeline” say the engineers.
“Forget the trees and plants” the Investors will holler.
The prospector comes and rapes a ****** land
All in the name of progress, and the mighty oil dollar.

There are advantages, of course there are
These we can readily see
Improved infrastructures, better living standards
Third world countries eager to get on par with the West
Voters investing in the motor car, choosing only the best
The circle evolves.

Oil has spawned mighty empires
Blue chip stocks, governments bought and sold
All in the name of the liquid gold
Millions of barrels, every day, throughout the world
Are pumped, refined and shipped to the consumers
Us! The people who live on this earth’s crust
There has to be a limit, a time to stop
Mother Earth needs a complete evolution to replace her loss
T
written in 1999 and still relevant today
YouMe Aug 26
Make me the conduit of your sweet desires.

Leave my back lightning scarred and bleeding.

Dig wicked trenches of warfare with your tongue.

Lay claim to my shuddering breath like a prospector hunting for gold,
It is all yours for the taking.

— The End —