Best Fragility Poems
A lovely night beneath the stars
with ocean waves glazed by the moon;
nearby, the music of guitars
strums soft, a melancholy tune.
Iced tea in hand soothes thirsty lips.
Upon the cruise line deck, he dreams
of future leisure ocean trips
'neath moonlit seas or sunny beams.
From his soft chair, he views the sky
in rapture with this nighttime bliss,
without a thought to say goodbye
or know the future he would miss-
No warning- in the midst of life-
that death would visit him this night;
discovered by his loving wife-
eyes open, fixed, on sky's delight.
May 16, 2018
~2nd Place~
Contest: In The Fragility of Dreams
Sponsor: Silent One
Judged: 05/27/20
~6th Place~
Premiere Contest: Mid-Summer 2018
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 07/02/2018
~1st Place~
Contest: A Poem About Death ~ Theme: In The Midst Of Life
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Judged: 05/18/2018
Based on Truth. This happened to someone we knew
many years ago, aboard a cruise ship in the Caribbean.
My poem was originally titled- "In Midst Of Life"
Upon my pilgrimage yearning for love.
I found myself surrounded by a plethora of petals.
Day and night I searched for a fragrance.
An aroma that would lead to you.
As twilight dimmed clementine horizons,
there you were,
glistening in the moonlight.
Your scent seduced my senses,
my heart became a willing admirer.
Something awoke that day,
forgotten emotions suppressed
by fate's injustices, were reborn,
illuminated like the blazing sun.
Yet such is the fragility of fate -
as sins from the heavens poured,
forming a turbulent tempest,
you wilted, and I was unable to save you.
In the sadness of silence,
I watched as your petals floated away
so I waited,
hoping the winds would take me too
but I'm still here -
Isolated - shivering, soaking in misery,
without a petal to call my own.
Silent One
Simple Musing
16 July 2019
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 14 Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Contest Judged: 9/6/2025 12:49:00 PM
( 1st Place )
Written: September 04, 2025
They said the songbird
her wings twisted and torn
should quiet herself...
that the sky held no place
for the fragile or the worn.
Yet she kept a sky tucked inside her - a
place untouched by any hand.
At daylight she let her voice rise
and though her body stayed earthbound,
her song lifted past the edge of flight.
The wind slowed to listen,
branches bent nearer
and the horizon seemed to pause,
stirred by her willfulness .
Each note unlaced an old wound,
each chorus pushed against the walls
of a world that once turned her away.
Her feathers never mended,
yet her dream grew wide enough
to shelter every broken one who followed.
From her we understood:
reaching the sky
was never about wings at all.
Quote:
"Ambedo- a kind of melancholic trance in which
you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory
details- which leads to a dawning awareness
of the fragility of life." — J. Koenig
I saw a large round anthill in the dirt
and marveled at the intricate design
of what they were about. My heart was sad,
and yet, without a thought, I moved away
to let the grader push ahead- right through
their little world; at once they disappeared.
What purpose to it all? They worked so hard
to have it end like that- never knowing
the what, how, when, or why? I brushed a tear
beneath my eyes- my eyes, which saw no line,
between these tiny ants and us; between-
this simple grader leveling the ground,
with such destructive, unexpected force-
and seismic tragedies- or cosmic shifts-
destroying this, our world- from time to time.
Did you ever need to just be held
Gently, like a baby bird or fragile leaf
That when touched harshly
Crumbles to dust in the hand
You who are bound together so tightly
With the thinnest of twine
Who cannot move one way or another
Without breaking in to a million pieces
If someone would just hold you
Honestly and in stillness
You might find the strength to stay bound
Or at least the desire to
What it must be like to float
In and through the soft hands of one who loves you
To find a soft place to land and scream
When the twine finally breaks
The problem is that you look sturdy
You look like the weight of the world
Could rest easily upon your shoulders
You do not look like some fragile thing
Unless someone cares to look in your eyes
They would never know
Only your eyes know the secret
And you never look anyone in the eyes
But there may come a day
When you look up
And hope that someone will see
And hope that they will hold you
And let you breathe for a while
And hold the weight for a while
And let you scream for a while
Until you can laugh again for a while
Gentle seer and holder of lost souls
This is my wish
To be held
To be weightless
To breathe
To be
Hold me
Oh! How I despise dawn’s blushing optimism
and dried hydrangea blooms sepia skinned and papery thin.
Humdrum hands beat doldrums drum.
Why won’t the summer solstice light this darkness?
A gnawing hollow where my heart should be.
Where cinder clouds float in negative space
memories collect like nesting sparrows beneath eaves.
I stray, a waif lost with my armful of loss.
Your death did steal my breath and heartbeat like a thief
while October’s wind trembled aspens like harp strings.
(Ten Poem Titles)
The Corruption Of My Lust For Life
Autumn Side Of September
Mundane Matters Of Mortals
Theft Of My Will To Survive
In Woes And Throes Of Sorrow
A Vanilla Dove
Escape Of The Bluesman’s Song
The Sham Of My Humanity
Death Is The Bane Of My Existence
The Shedding Trees Of Autumn
In fragility of dreams,
winds weep with weeping willows.
Fate mimics a melancholic melody -
pain only piano keys can portray.
Each note tempts this tired mind,
to move in slow motion -
a dispirited dance for a misunderstood heart,
mourning the surreal silence of her absence.
Sanity deceives like twilight,
clementine embers scorch the sky.
As shadows create silhouettes -
darkness does not reveal my star.
Breathing alone at the beloved's bridge,
reminiscing brown eyes and secret smiles,
echoes of her voice tingle -
lonesome soul shivers.
Here I remain,
an unfinished painting -
aching for her palette.
Sunday Simple Musings
Silent One
17 May 2020
Emerging from sleep dream temerity,
his remote aurora spectral prisms
from which his wakefulness gives legerity,
from which surfaces new burgeoning aphorisms.
Truth’s contours arrayed in fluid fluency,
his morning ataraxia in the still water lake
from where his senses lose their truancy,
from where ideation sheds the opaque.
He finds repose in a moment's seclusion,
his lucid cortex in reflective possibility,
but he learns his real confirmation in inclusion,
and learns our fellowship best protects our fragility.
So quickly we imbrute each other with walls,
he knows how militarization is summoned by anxiety,
he weeps at the endless requiem protocols,
he grieves at history’s long cruel impropriety.
But he detects his promise in human need,
our struggle against forces of dehumanization,
our commission in communitarian creed,
our hope in human family realization.
Awarded second place in Poetrysoup "Grace and Solitude" rhyming poetry contest sponsored by John Hamilton.
A beautiful glass vase
Must be handled with care
Made with love,
Without a blemish or tear.
The glazier takes pride.
As he fashions the glass,
He always tries
To make each one
As perfect as the last.
When the glass is complete,
And out of the glazier's hands
It looks like a treat
As it graciously stands,
On an antique table
That stood in the hall
Dusted carefully,
In case it may fall
What has fate in store
For this exquisite glassware
Who could ask for more
Created without a flaw.
Fine glass is very fragile,
It easily breaks
It is a unique commodity
A lot of courage it takes.
To survive.
And keep alive.
Maybe one day in the future
It will come to pass,
That all living creatures
Are as fragile as glass.
a motionless pond
reflects a fragile sky
clouds want to swallow the sun
blossoms are small tears
skimming over old wounds
where doves fly against the wind
~
we share the same sun
and as moon touches your face
I wake with tomorrow's dream
lessons we have learned
come not from holding the stars
but from where we share the light
_______________________________________________________________
Inspired by Deb's Contest: Walk Softly
In the fragility of dreams, I am
young -always young- and in a good dream
I am my best self once again.
All my senses are intact -
normal as they should be!
Discomfort has fled,
for nothing plagues
me, and then
I wake
up.
May 18, 2020
In the hued sunset hour,
on the yearning canvas
I paint your floral face.
The pink petals of smile
configure my dream.
Ravaged by sandstorm of time,
on dwindling dunes of despair,
future crumbles in debris.
In the dust of dereliction,
I find you fervently morphed
into mirage of memory.
I then hear the soliloquy of soul,
inspiring me to cross resolute
the yearning rainbow archway,
for it leads to your heart.
I reach the ecstasy sea shore,
count the waves of time tide,
build the castle of sliding sand,
live with the fragility of dream.
______________
April 11, 2023
For A Brian Strand Premiere No 1207 Contest
When roses proffer prickly thorns
And wilted flowers deliberately mock
Forlorn garden of my passions torn,
When winds of love are gusting cold
As night invokes banished woes
And horrid storm wrecks my coast
And tides turn wild to sink my boat
As heart aches in beats lovelorn,
To touch my soul, you come along.
Beautiful you’re beyond my dreams--
Brown eyes beaming bold appeal,
A dimple adorns blushing cheeks
Gleaming style of radiant smile,
Just as I had imagined you would be.
How splendorous is your royal abode!
Where rare jewels glint arched entrance
Greeting me gently into your mahal--
Imperial charm of intricate patterns
Woven in petals of heavenly fragrance.
“This is our place,” longingly you say
Hanging our portraits on walls of grace,
Mementos of desires are already there
Toasting rendezvous of love ornate.
And happily I stay there in your embrace
In the fragility of dreams utopia creates.
May 18, 2020
In the fragility of dreams poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
In the fragility of dreams
Slowly withers with the complexities
Of life while also overshadowing
Flowers on tufts of whorled branches and leaves
Drowning bleakness in unforgiving world
An infinitude of grief, death has stolen
Whilst the imperfections human has claimed
Infinity of disregarded blithe
And the unforgotten echoing sounds
While dreams grow bonding loss souls on restless
Moonless indigo sky, no stars dangle
Insidious sleep a chance of finding
Fragile trouble soul disastrous defeats
Which still doth grow fragility of dreams
5/18/2020
A screaming baby hanging by the rock,
Amidst the splashing turbulence of angry waves,
I am running downhill to rescue the child,
Over slippery stones with my shaken nerves,
Time is ticking, ticking fast, between me and the scream,
I wipe my glasses to clear the mist,
to see where screaming baby lies!
Between the rock at the very edge,
It’s shirt held on by a tree branch,
The baby screams
as the wind swings it along,
a dance between life and ocean waves!
Barely six feet from the child,
I lean across a rocky ledge,
but waves rush in at me,
as if to say “No!He is mine!”
My hand reach out to grab his arm,
slippery baby with slippery hands!
The branch desires to hold him on
as I wrestle the wood to free the child,
a wet baby wrapped in my arms
screaming louder than ever before!
I roll away till we are safe
and climb my way to safety heights.
In the fragility of my dreams
I often rescue this child,
a child that lives deep in me!
Trees and boulders, ocean and rocks,
the vicissitudes of life
that would not let him be.
Written 19/05/2020
2nd placement
In the fragility of dreams contest
Sponsor Silent One