David W Jul 2014

Sweat-drenched and weary,
Tilling — and earthy labor —
Now a day’s work done

A Reflection On My Day
Palas Kumar Ray Mar 2010

Soil is very important
Just beneath your feet
Wherever you are
for the time being
You shall have to come back
To soil
where from you fly

Soil is very important.

JM Jun 2012

Mother Summer's peace,
Cottonwoods, swaying willows.
Soil and ancient roots.

Emma B Jul 2013

Isn't it nice
how the sunflowers
become the soil.

Daniel Magner Jul 2013

The spots I'm seeing connect,
forming an image through my cold sweats.
I feel like a jest but nobody's laughing,
it's silent like the inside of a coffin
at the graveyard, only sounds are
the footsteps of the drunken night guard
playing cards with the dead.

Daniel Magner 2013
E R Romaine Jan 2012

The wind is influenced by
The direction she walks in.
The sky is willful to carry her breath.
The withered leaves
Are first to caress her.
But the earth waits first
To hold her in death.

Maya Caroline Dec 2012

What am I?

I should be nothing to you.
A breeze on your neck.
A pleasing glance
or stare.

I’d hope.

Though nothing more and nothing less.
I am a bag of dirt.

Wash and rid of me
from your warm hands.

While you still can.

Eleanor Rigby Jan 2015

When I met you the soil was wet
Underneath cloudy skies
And so were your eyes.

Now it's the summer,
everything is dry
You must say goodbye.


Madison Cosby Nov 2014

Oak sprouts from soil,
leaves dangiling on the tree,
Sit, and watch happen.

SG Holter Mar 2015

I've been a construction worker
My entire adult

Still, I cannot
Seem to rebuild
Her confidence.

I've been a poet for
As long as I can

But my encouraging
Hollow-point-words shatter
Against her insecure kevlar.

Suppose all I can be is
Sunlight, water and

I'll try that; I've been a
Farmer's boy since

Tonya Maria Jul 2014

A flood of emotion
Is pouring out of me
  But it gently flows,
  meandering down rivers and streams
richly feeding the soil from where I stand.

The blues play with soulful repetition
As they replace my woe with rhythmic comfort.
This rhythm causes the stones to harmonically groan  
yellow dew tipped flowers to empathetically sigh.

This place is my paradise for today
I firmly plant my bare feet into her soil
Deeply breathe in her sighs and melodies
I am here,
the most southern place on earth.

Michael Humbert Feb 2015

Remember how our lips once spoke their own language
And recall how my hands knew only your skin
Our hearts once danced in fire
Plunging in flames again and again

Bury me in the graveyard of your memories
And think of me fondly as I become soil
Keep me in wandering thoughts
Til the day we both shed this mortal coil

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