Best Unconsoled Poems

The Lingering and the Unconsoled Heart
by Michael R. Burch
 
There is a silence—
the last unspoken moment
before death,
 
when the moon,
cratered and broken,
is all madness and...

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Villanelle: Cowered crushed cramped cold in the pit of our stomachs

Cowered crushed cramped cold in the pit of our stomachs
We drag our ego thrones saddled...

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Angrily, rain enfolds the insular rise of lawn undulating. 
Anglers dream, envious fishermen, inside looking out urging 

apostles, who elope within imaginary onslaughts, hooked unburdening's.
Aloft,...

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"
I have walked the silent paths of grief
Sunless,dreary,cold and all alone.
I have slept on beds of winter leaves.

I know that death’s a greedy starving thief.
Although...

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She stood with her back turned to me
Leaning slightly towards where the light tapered off into darkness
Her faced buried deep inside her cupped hands 
Her...

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I had hoped to beat the violent storm's shooting hail,
struggling through falling branches, some broken and some whole;
my mutt with a rigid tail growled steadily...

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I looked at you
Pity seeps through my soul
How could anyone leave you in hunger
Leaving you with sadness unconsoled

I looked at you with tearful eyes
I knelt...

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the same each day - no different is my night
I yearn for light inside my dismal fold
The joy I seek eludes my feeble sight ......

My...

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with unconsoled cries
weeping and gnashing their teeth ~
their worm never dies


—————

for the Hell Haiku Poetry Contest
sponsored by Robert James Liguori
written on 3/26/23...

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My transient small dreams magnified manifold, 
over mindscape wide wings of desire they grew, 
my constrained essence could no longer hold,  
turning to beguiled...

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A leaf clings to a lifeless branch
    In humble and tenuous hold
A limp and parched and fragile thing
    ...

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This was for keeps for all we knew
so far away so long ago
I really fell in love with you
before you played the second show

White lace...

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I feel soft ghostly hands around my throat

That want to pull me to the  darkest deep

My husband cannot leave or be remote

He wishes me...

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I can't believe that 
my good mistress' 
gone.
she came,she 
saw,she lived,she 
worked and died.
But duties of her is 
yet to be done.
That's why I'm 
weeping...

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Sonnets LXI-LXX

Erin
by Michael R. Burch

All that’s left of Ireland is her hair?
bright carrot?and her milkmaid-pallid skin,

her brilliant air of cavalier despair,
her train of children?some conceived...

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