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
...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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"How fragile is life in nature's forceful wind..."
Dylan Thomas wrote of October gales
and their harsh, buffeting fingers. 
He called them an "autumnal spell."
Autumn...the season when leaves hang trembling.

Christina Rosetti's lines have been well read...
"Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor me.
But when the trees...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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Every aspiring artist
want's to be remembered
for what they were able to give to the world
not so much , like so many other's
what they are capable of taking from the world

Who are we any way , to think we can capture
the beauty of creation , a...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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