Best Frail Poems

That woman with a fragile heart,
Finding solace in lonely tears,
One harsh word a turmoil can start,
Waging a war within her fears, 

Sometimes losing her fight with pain,
That woman with a fragile heart,
Though she knows it won't be in vain,
Her soul's shattered, she falls apart,

Looking up...

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Whether poets, showmen or philosophers,
Or mere cowboys who follow herds—
They all want to leave behind a lasting mark—
More than frail paper etched with words.

But the cold, hard truth still lies in the doing
And all but a blessed few will fail—
But on we go like bison...

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Stardust filters her eyes--
diving headlong into an ache
of links from yesterdays,
coal the firmament.

Each star a dot of reverie
blinking with frail luster,
a speck rusted in time
washed by love’s weeping.



Brian Strand's Choice 10...

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The bird wanted to fly

But the wind wanted to blow

“Rest now bird”, said the wind

“You now take it down slow,

And let me flow.”

 

The bird accepted thinking it was a request,

And ignored the proud in his words,

She sat down on the branch to rest,

Keeping down...

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Waking up, I'm shaken by an awful thought:
it's not a sunny February morning,
but heartwarming wishes on Facebook
alleviate the anxiety of a gloomy feeling
to enliven the mood and be immensely grateful
to God and do what is worth living for, but
is the state of being old that...

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Little did I know as I baked my afternoon cherry pie
That I would spy a tiny little mouse lazying around the window seal
He was tiny and gray peculiar I'd say.
I watched his nose dart swiftly in search of a meal. 

I was fascinated that such...

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A nation at war with itself
A father sucking his daughter's breasts
A child cheering at her mother's pain

My heart is heavily laden
My soul bleeds profusely
disaster comes with every meal
Tragedy is my morning shower


Irrational has attained rational
To err has become acceptable
Abnormality is now being celebrated
the corpse is...

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The Frail

The frail know not the zeal of robustness. 
Nonetheless, hopes seal
Daydreams that hearts conceal.


© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 26, 2010

Poetic form:  Englyn 
NOTE: There are several forms for this type of Welch poem.  This one is called Englyn penfyr

Poetic Form: Englyn penfyr (Short...

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stars
hang
on 
thin
wires
in
a
January 
huddle...

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It's a blessing and a curse
To have both food and drink
Filling the cup and stuffing our faces
But mindlessly scraping food in the sink

I picture this frail, young girl
Nothing but weak bones and skin
She can't close her eyes right now
Saliva dripping from her chin

She watches a...

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Alarm bells are ringing,
a familiarity forgotten.
A code I can not remember,
my brain corrupt with data.

Evolutions unwitnessed by me,
I was never invited into broken heart,
this fading away.

Your scent, recognised by my memory,
like a photograph fading in reverse.
I am in the darkroom, undeveloped,
I won't see who I'll...

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As Helga gives me frail peace
At ancient walls of Thunder tower
I want to touch her hand, I miss
this warmth. I won’t release my power.
Flirtation’s nothing for my soul
It is detestable, forbidding; 
It needs just flesh it makes me fall
It darkens our bashful meeting.
It’s hostile for...

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I'm a frail human soul. 

I solemnly cuss staunchness to glorify God.
Creator and master of mighty power,
With every breath, I scaled a heavenly view.
With a cheery voice and burning praise,
Oh how happy, grateful, and thankful I feel,
So I might live amid those halcyon spirits.
How wonderful...

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17th November 2020

Beating muscle beneath frail skin,
Rigid bone beneath strong muscle,

A warm full of life fleshy heart,
Thumping with feeling and passion,
Taking a stand on your sleeve,
No lies can be told in flesh and blood,

A cold, worm filled, empty rib cage,
Cracked gnarled and hollow,
Hiding away beneath...

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You are old, Uncle Joseph,
your short stepping gait
has aroused much comment
in the media of late.

My steps  may be short
but I still get along.
Like Johnny Walker
I'm still going strong.

You are old, Uncle Joseph.
If  I err, please forgive..
Your memory, they say,
somewhat resembles a sieve.

Being forgetful...

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