Ashes Poems - Poems about Ashes

The World in Ashes A crimson tide floods dawn's first light, Smoke curls upward, choking sight. The guns don't sleep, the stars don't shine, Children search for scraps, not time. Ash falls where blossoms used to bloom, Homes are rubble, streets a tomb. Steel birds shriek, and sirens cry, Yet none can answer—only die. Kings draw borders with lines of flame, But hunger knows no...

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A dress, tangerine fading into sunflower. We stand together, rooftop of a white concrete building. Higher than clouds, further than moon— she looks down, my eyes follow. Our gazes collide when they fall onto the mist pooling into swirls. I couldn't help but stare, on her porcelain cheeks, something sparkles—tears, but I cannot tell if they're from joy or devastation. I want to hold her— In...

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I used to think there were only two choices— Player or Played. But what I really wanted was someone who would stay when the silence got too loud, when words ran dry. Someone to choose me, not just want me. I looked for them in smiles, in short texts, in brown eyes that said everything but never stayed long enough to prove it. I gave...

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Is heaven real? Maybe. Or maybe it’s just another myth— like love that stays, like people who mean what they say, like pain that disappears when you’ve earned enough of it. They say everything happens for a reason. But all I see is the bleeding you have to call “growth,” and the silence you have to pretend is peace. God, I loved. With everything I had. With parts of me I...

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The cafe burnt alive as soon as you Set your patent leather boot inside And walked right into this unknown, Mysterious yet familiar world Of witty writers and pious poets With their poetic pens. My tantalizing timid eyes Met your musically amused eyes, And I heard a symphony unsung, Strange, how can you be just a stranger, When your eyes can speak so...

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a r~a~g~i~n~g beast that r~o~a~r~e~d loud through dry grasslands e~m~b~l~a~z~o~n~e~d just like sunlight rays in forested ~s~e~a~s~ a glowing friend who radiates love's embrace a relentless enemy that rides on a wild horse a beacon of hope that beams brilliant stories ...

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Bruised and battered, I still remain. Each scar a tale of silent pain. Two years of hell, I walked alone, A fractured heart, a broken bone. They never saw, they never knew, The storms I fought, the nights I blew. Yet from the rubble, I now arise, A...

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I don't choose the muse the muse chooses me but when I need her most then whereabouts is she abandoned and self-mocked not word one could I pen with writer's block my fate cast to the wind but if the wraith had knocked as does opportunity I couldn't tell on the other hand her silence rings a bell so left to my own devices of weft warp and weave forged...

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This sentinel, with roots that grip the soil, A continuum witness of seasons' endless toil. Through storms and sun, a beacon in the breeze, once a life of strength, among the ancient trees. But time, marches, and its sharp axe will fall, gently splitting, as life begins to stall. The leaves, once vibrant, start to turn to gold, a final chapter of...

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Let us start at the end because that is where it all began Ashes I clinched my fist because I did not want to let go I literally watched you slip through my fingers I cursed the day The day I looked into your eyes, lying there On a bed that represented hope Until that moment The moment I realised that you were...

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Why are you waiting your house is burning Run while you can from the blaze inside What will be left in the morning after But naked ashes and tears — uncried (Dreamsleep: April, 2025) ...

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We live and die completely In the material world It would be rather fiddly To emulate a Phoenix bird Our ashes can’t be bothered Inside their marble urns No point in fire hazard Cause we’re already burned It sounds flat simplistic Therefore it’s dull, I know I’d love to be a mystic To make of life a show I’d love to talk with God About my perspective...

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strong winds blow it appears the poet died today he was afflicted with a broken heart seems he had no more words to say he’d already done his part so they got the oven ready cause he wanted his body to burn and they held the tray real steady and poured him inside an urn seems the poet flew over the calming seas more freely...

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In the shadows of a fading room, Lies a heart, a fragile thread in gloom. Time, the thief, steals moments away, Leaving whispers of love in decay. Bridges once burned now smolder and twist, Ropes set ablaze, memories we missed. The laughter of children, like ghosts in the night, Flickers...

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Ashes to ashes This is the day Of that reminder.. Two stories leap One of a missing Between The other of Beginnings and Endings and a Between lived In joy and sorrow.. These two Are not two......

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