Poems about architects



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№ 1075659

Architects

The space we each hold as the single brick missing from the tattered foundation is neither an enthusiastic lightbulb, nor a wounded elk, rotting to the sound of the birds.

It's my favorite portion of dinner,
The determined phone cords wrapped around my weightless ankles, and the child in my head skipping stones on a purple, moonlit lake

We are uncomfortably wet grand-masters of the sandpaper landscape,
Making sense of that nameless, empty space.


architects.

Author: ahmo
+0-
Date: 07/12/2019


№ 942384

Weird takes on the architects

They build and call them tower blocks

,
They're concrete rockets to entomb us then they'll blast us into space.

This race is no race for old men.

And when we're our there gravitating towards the dying sun
They'll have us playing parlour games,
Gee whizz
Oh lord
What fun.

But we're catching on to their games and the things they're going to do, you'll get older one day
It's time for you to catch on too.

They're building seismic sidewalks
That tremble when you talk

They're building hell out in Lahore

Hell
That's been done before.

They're spending billions on defence while a million people starve
There's meat upon the table, but
There's no one left to carve.

Unfinished


architects,  takes,  weird.

Author: John Edward Smallshaw
+0-
Date: 08/08/2019

№ 891284

Architects The of Time

Your words --
Are the soft mortar
Between bricks and stones
Inside these mending walls

Your words --
Are stiff but fragile
Frames, building language and art

Words fill these empty spaces in our hearts
Thus, words are the architects of time


architects,  time.

Author: Stu Harley
+0-
Date: 23/06/2019

№ 814175

The Architects of Time

Your words --
Are the soft mortar
Between bricks and stones
Inside these mending walls

Your words --
Are stiff but fragile
Frames, building language and art

Words fill these empty spaces in our hearts
Thus, words are the architects of time


architects,  time.

Author: Stu Harley
+0-
Date: 14/04/2019


№ 622292

The architects house

It is a tiny place, look
In side and see.

Go, position yourself
Carefully.

Dumb down, retreat,
Diminish, resize
Like me.

Another place,
Where words
Affect us deeply.

Voices will come
And go. and

While the worlds spins,
This small world
Remains intact.



Sbm.


architects,  house.

Author: Sonja Benskin Mesher
+0-
Date: 21/10/2018

№ 584612

Authors & Architects

Past
Closed up pizza joints
Past laundromats, through the dying noise
The nights tick on like clockwork
Watch the calendar as my steps unwind

I'll wait for my thoughts to ferment
Pick my words, hope I don't slur them.
Flip back past the page of these days
Get a read how I got to this age

From the summit where I'm stuck and posted
Reread the books where I come the closest
From the shelf spill my guts to ghosts here,
And relive old nights in Bozeman

When I found a place
Where the nights grew longer--
Grew confident that I wasn't always wrong
And just drank the moon
Under dawntide tables
Rolled the dice with the greatest friends
We said, "We're not old yet. "

Through
Crumbling bones at night
Past skeletons of the city's size
The nights fall out like sand grains
Curse the hourglass as my fate unwinds.

I'll wait for my brain to discharge
Its contents on hospital charts.
Glued the book shut, stuck in the time
I gained my crutches and misplaced my mind.

From the bed that I'm fucking glued to
To cluttered basements I can't wade through
The foundation just won't hold up
Against the cracks formed in Missoula.

Ran off the rails
Where I stumbled and stammered
Grew comfortable beneath pint glass hammers
I still drink the moon
Under dawntide tables
Grown apart from the greatest friends
Who said, "You're not dead yet. "


amp,  architects,  authors.

Author: Kyle Kulseth
+0-
Date: 17/09/2018


№ 557370

"The Architects of Our Fate"

We...
Are The Architects of Our Fate
We build the walls
All these gates
We construct solid walls
They take them down
Let them fall
Then look around
For Solid Ground
Until it's found
I plant my feet

Take a seat
Share a story
Of honored Glory
My Father was a Carpenter
A Master Builder they would say
And I see his buildings
Every day
Arts and craftsman
My kind of build
Houses filled
Engrossing skill
Amazing will
Holes were drilled
Handhewn milled
Beams
Intricate details

Imparted to me
You can see
By carving
Wooden
Weathered
Leather hands

It's good to admire
Though I do not aspire
To live in one now

I miss the farm
In simple charms
A time exsist my memories

Queen Abigail of Chelsea
A border collie
She was our dog
Willamina a hog
Or the name of a pig
Rooting earth she'd happily dig
A silly gig
She never was a meal
Her funny squeal
Saved her life

Had a horse named Cochise
No wool from lamb
That we could fleece
You could not ride
But would stand on hind
Legs
And beg
For marshmallows!

I miss the Farm
All the time
It taught me
Life is worth living
To keep on giving
What I can.


Cherie Nolan © 2016


architects,  fate.

Author: Ma Cherie
+0-
Date: 24/08/2018

№ 531416

Architects Loves Architecture

Silent voices will open the sky.
Desperate tentmakers will be comforted.
With rain from above that different from the usual.
Embrace the flood, go with it, collide.

Dont trust your international instinct.
Dig, dig, dig it out, search your heart.
There is something inside of you.

I know that youre in the battle now.
Between your inward and outward being.
You have been defeated by your flesh and desires.
Learn how to be giant over it.

Look at the days, the deadline has been set.
Dont allow this chronic noise disturb your silent.
Energize yourself and ignite your senses.
The grace has been poured out.

Come, lets eat the word and drink the right one.
Truly, we will not dismay, we can stand firm.
The truth will guide us into the road to eternity.
This path has a signature printed by the Creator.

As the hour goes by, this will be our nature.
We will set this city on fire, burning hot.
The biotic and abiotic will know Him.
And acknowledge Him as the Maker of all them.

Clap your hands, you low self-esteem kids.
Put your trust and believe that you will be deliver.
In all your ways acknowledge.
And He will make your path straight.


architects,  architecture,  loves.

Author: Mark Rubilla
+0-
Date: 31/07/2018

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