Best Wearying Poems


Ode To Spring

Through a fluttering veil of luscious hues,
Fair Lady coquets with the majestic Sun,
As the wicked Wind caresses her tender cheek,
The harshness of Winter all undone.

Sparrows perched upon the towering trees,
Whistle sweetly at the colorful array.
Fair Lady hums and sways in warm ecstasy,
As the wicked Wind drifts away.

The sinful Sun glows after a wearying day,
And spans its gaze upon the fields of fruit.
Fair Lady drowsy, lies upon the prickly grass;
The darkness envelops as all goes mute.
Categories: wearying, love, nature, philosophy
Form: Verse

Isn'T There Someone

There is an ache, a hurt that makes no list.
Its name isn’t cancer or heart, but loneliness.
Its victims are usually old, but may be young.
They wait for a call or visit that doesn’t come.

The elderly may sense that having been used
It is time for them to be aloofly excused.
They labored for others they hardly knew
Only to be discarded with lives near through.

Chances are there’s a widow on your block
Who stares out a window at an empty walk.
A wave from a passerby would light her face
And restore fading faith in the human race.

Why do we make time for trifles of naught,
Isn’t there someone whom we have forgot?
Abandon for moments life’s wearying ways,
And show love to the lonely all of your days.

Discordant voices will promptly claim doubt.
“It’s a new day!” they will harshly cry out.
But the truth of the matter is this reality:
To live life richly requires a loving mentality.
Categories: wearying, loneliness, love,
Form: Rhyme

The Foghorn of Yore

The days are long and unproud, they brood...
  and please not the weary soul wearying in its wake;
  when gnashing snow and rain bite
  cold and bitter nights ---
  smite the weary traveler soul

The spray of oceans fierce, the tattered sail
  and shattered galleon hulls,
  whipping winds above the dead below the waves,
  heave torrid warning weeps,
  to forgotten realms...
  to misty denizens deep,
  buried 'neath the seas

Fathom after fated fathom, bugle from mermaids call,
  belated beckonings, doom from harp ringing culls;
  'ere the storm ends many men;
  they sound the trumpet and bugle ---
  and sea urchin minstrels again,
  'ere the storm ends many men

The masts seem as wooden-braced ghosts;
  shackled to grimly merchant (boors) for sailor eyes ---
  aghast for Captain Bold and his pickled laugh ---
  To the eye! Straight on! Through her gutteral seas we go! 
  'ere the storm ends many men

The crest of waves rise monolith and mighty,
  scolding beam and soul,
  lancing forthwith all aboard ---
  visions of ill-fated meagre pay;
  of wife and child far and away,
  forgotten faces...
  lost in venomous haze

Terrible is the vanquished soul,
  smitten to meaningless display,
  needless heroics of Captains Bold,
  (summoning water thundered fates)
  sleeping seas,
  then silence...
  sweet silence...


***Dedicated to the sailors who lost their lives at sea***
Categories: wearying, fate, sea, storm,
Form: Rhyme

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member FAITH IN GOD WHO IS INTREATED OF US

January 9 Faith in God Bible Meditations Based on Genesis 25-27

Key Verse – Genesis 25:21 And Isaac intreated the LORD for his wife, because she was barren: and the LORD was intreated of him, and Rebekah his wife conceived.

FAITH IN GOD WHO IS INTREATED OF US

God is intreated of us in our days of adversity 
Inside His goodness is where by faith, we dwell in His blessings’ bounty
Indeed, He brings us in His presence of serenity---
It fills our souls with contentment against feeling barren and empty.

God is intreated of us in our struggles 
Inside His will is where by faith, we separate from sin-wiggles
Indeed, He delivers us from cunning worldliness-tangles---
It fires our spirits against fainting due to deceit-bugles.

God is intreated of us in our famine and nothingness 
Inside His provision is where by faith, we stay with productiveness
Indeed, He charges us to obey His commands of purposiveness---
It finds our hearts satisfied in digging for genuine joyfulness.

God is intreated of us in our striving 
Inside His might is where by faith, we abide for strength-receiving
Indeed, He builds us up while we submit to His divine carving---
It establishes our trust in His covenant to which we are cleaving.

God is intreated of us in our dimness of vision 
Inside His light is where by faith, we behold His loving compassion
Indeed, He shines on us as we obey His voice for the great commission---
It brings our eyes to radiate with His truth’s infusion, conquering confusion.

God is intreated of us in our prayers’ fervency
Inside His wisdom is where by faith, we discern with urgency
Indeed, He answers us with His presence and mercy---
It moves our conviction to arise midst supplication-consistency.

God is intreated of us in our need-caused crying 
Inside His protection is where by faith, we win over iniquities’ lying
Indeed, He sustains us from doubt, unbelief and anxiety’s sighing---
It breaks our yokes from vain and useless wearying. Amen!

January 9, 2025
8th place, "A 2025 POSTED POEM" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 1/11/2025
Categories: wearying, bible, blessing, christian, faith,
Form: Quatrain

The House With the Golden Windows

Morning... the child awakes, 
steps lightly 'cross the threshold of his front yard. 
Windows of the mansion o'er the glen ablaze 
with sparkling brilliance draw his gaze. 

Suited for all-comers, with sturdy 
leggings for his Big Adventure, 
he takes on the day, as brave as good 
King Arthur on a mission for the Grail. 

Striding forth, his heart is beating 
like a drum as he tarries by the river 
to bathe his feet in icy water, wolfing down 
the victuals made ready by his mum. 

Trudging up the hillside, harder than 
the journey down, wearying now his steps 
are measured. He longs to claim his dream 
though his eyes now see dull sockets where 
the shining should have been. 

Depressed, he sits exhausted to weigh 
the reason why. As he turns, hungry for home, 
his heart is leaping, for basking in the radiance 
of the slowly dying sunset is his own lowly residence, 
its windows glittering like burnished gold!
Categories: wearying, adventure, children,
Form: Prose

From the Top

Over two-thirds of my lifetime
I have been climbing,
searching for an elusive peak,
Stretching for the pinnacle.

Would I ever attain?
Find freedom from the guilt
of not pleasing other people,
not meeting their expectations . . .
learn to just be me.

Just lately, I breathe pristine air
unadulterated by polluting opinions;
I sense, at last, the apex
where I am free,
living in a now moment,
savoring my place in it.

I see my years below
from where I stand victorious;
the wearying uphill strain
was worth what I have achieved.

I love you, but you do not own me.

Copyright, 9-20-2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
Categories: wearying, courage, identity, introspection,
Form: Free verse


The House With the Golden Windows

...for the Rev. Eric Shirvell-Price
    

Morning; the child awakes, 
steps lightly across the threshold 
to the courtyard.

The wndows of the mansion 
over the glen ablaze with sparkling 
brilliance draw his gaze and 
peak his curiosity.

Suited for all-comers with sturdy 
leggings for his Big Adventure, 
he takes on the day, as brave as good 
King Arthur on a mission for the Grail. 

Striding forth, his heart is beating 
like a drum as he tarries by the river 
to bathe his feet in icy water, wolfing down 
the victuals prepared by a Queen. 

Trudging up the hillside harder than 
the journey down, wearying now his steps 
are measured. He needs to claim his dream
though his eyes now see dull sockets where 
the blazing should have been. 

Depressed, he sits exhausted to weigh 
the reason why. As he turns, hungry for home, 
his heart is leaping, for basking in the radiance 
of the slowly dying sunset is his own bright shining 
dwelling, windows glittering like burnished gold!
Categories: wearying, childhood,
Form: Verse

Another Road Less Traveled

They are nothing
if not taciturn--these sprit travelers.
They do not shock, or ridicule,
for  they are single-minded in their quest
for timeless realms where magic dragons play
and roar for joy that cannot be contained--
unless they are ignored for brighter flames
that drown the seas around their mystic shore.

They are not much
for words or diadems of thought to sway
the psyche, win the day, or call to arms
a soldier, surfeited with war or from
a restive peace,  Theirs is the steady breath
to leave one breathless, voiceless, more removed
from what a dawning day reveals  than they
had ever been before, and more in tune
with universal song,
    
although they do not sing,
for their metier is listening. and that
is quite unspeakable--they do invite 
us yet, to take their hand and come along.
The journey is not wearying , and rest
awaits the patient ones.   Vacation at
the cosmic level is the prize received
unending and forever new,
                  ~
Categories: wearying, allegory,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Manifesto

Written: December 27, 2024 For Contest Sponsored by: Hilo Poet
                      _________________________________

At dawn of a place cocooned once in avarice
silver-haired savvy savor sweetness
serene symphony of silliness...
 
Each echo is adorned
in mirrors of moments whilom 
Still, the illness remains a threat 
Silhouettes shaped by streetlight gloom. 

Luigi Mangione delivers an arcane calix
crestfallen at awe-in junction of cathartic pain,
mark of jeopardy, spirits who stumbled
amid intricate twists of a complex web
where wellness waltzs whimsically as demon
sibylline, errorless, and suave
flimsy fusion of flux and mellifluous maunder. 

Let us linger in lurched odds of yeender,
covenant, of concept, and courtesy
firm freedom fetching fairness for all.  
seeking serenity in the scripts of statutes.

Yet we wonder, wrapped in a 
whirlwind of wearying red tape
frailty of fitness, a puzzling paradox
where reviews reverberate as an epiphany
as doctors and designs decide the merit
yesterday's valiant victors, 
confront morrow's troubling disregard.

Oh, the convoluted challenges of continuing!
a clock clicks constantly in the foreground
each tick teases the transience of time
whilst systems swirl swiftly shift and shape
to the tempo of transition, a thrum of turmoil
In a society that shuns, or selects to shun,
figures featuring fervent faces, fates at stake.

We stand strong, side by side, in such a struggle
amid a wave of apathy and regulations
the price of wellness is presented plainly
a burden of broad-based break bears our back
yet, we discover dynamism in togetherness
a steadfast strength of souls have survived storms
in chuckles of cherished seniors, once more liberated.

As we ascend from the abyssal katabatic,
let us linger on the lessons learned
a frailty of life, a grace of guardianship
and let Luigi’s manifesto heard an odyssey
a clarion call for a fairer future
where the weak are warmly welcomed
and the whispers of a wretched world 
weave a wondrous wave of wellness.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: wearying, america, angst, health,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Passing

Children of the moment, 
dust and vapor of time, 
wearying their frame for passing filth. 
in this land of the dying, 
forgetting the endless eternity, 
From the cry of the innocent, 
to the paths of obscurity,
seeking routes through time, 
The "haves"
the "havnots" 
the longings and cravings for perishing things of clay,
Ambitions and dreams innumerable, 
vigorous race and fascination for filthy lucre, 
they run, 
as though their frame were made of iron
and their sinews of brass,   
forgetting the gates of death, 
They acquire filth, 
some call it gold, 
they build, 
they store, and die holding naught
Then come the endless eternity 
The eternity of undying souls
Man! why slide unprepared?
Categories: wearying, allegory, analogy, christian, death,
Form: Verse

Premium Member My God, Thank You For Being Ready To Help Me

May 15 Scripture Meditations Based on Psalms 69-72

Key Verse – Psalm 70:5 But I am poor and needy: make haste unto me, O God: thou art my help and my deliverer; O LORD, make no tarrying.

MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR BEING READY TO HELP ME

Thank You for being ready to help me against sinking in sins’ deep mire
For never letting my soul to suffer in hell’s fire
Because You love me with Your compassion that does not tire
Despite my lack of holiness that You require and desire.

Thank You for being ready to help me against thriving submission-reluctance
For never hurting my heart that’s earnest to show repentance
Because You care for me midst fellowship’s intimacy, not from a distance
Despite my frustration over absence of faith’s substance.

Thank You for being ready to help me against wearying foolishness
For never turning my seeking toward Your wisdom’s purposiveness
Because You teach me by Your scriptural instruction-effectiveness
Despite my unbelief’s stubbornness midst ignorance-perilousness.

Thank You for being ready to help me against overflowing hardship
For never undermining my prayer in my service-stewardship
Because You uphold me in Your offered labor-partnership
Despite my inconsistency in surrendering to Your workmanship.

Thank You for being ready to help me against confounding reproaches
For never insulting my sincerity with condemning searches
Because You regard me and my frailty-crutches
Despite my pride of vain hunches along blinking selfishness-torches.

Thank You for being ready to help me against attacking adversaries
For never pushing my choices into destruction-set territories
Because You guard me by Your protective miracles’ mysteries
Despite my doubts’ vexations and needfulness’ worries.

May 15, 2022
Categories: wearying, blessing, christian, faith, god,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Worry

You sit and think of what could be
but not with any sense of glee.
The future looks all dull and dark
so, before long you lose life’s spark.

Soon stinking thinking starts to stress
and heavy feelings start to press.   
Your mind becomes a muddled mess
and mental zest gets less and less.

You cannot sleep, you lie and weep
as self-pity over you sweep.
The mirror tells a terror tale
of pallid face and figure frail.

If this is you, then turn the tide,
Tis past the time to bide and hide.
 Cry out for help, the silence end
seek out those who can help you mend.

The things you fear may never come
so, worrying is downright dumb.
It paralyzes, makes you numb,
it saps your strength and leaves you glum.

Your thoughts tremendous power hold
To scare you stiff or make you bold.
Don’t ever let your thoughts run wild,
but train them as a little child.

Don’t waste your watts with worrying
it drains and leaves you wearying.
Tend to thoughts that lift you up
and good outcomes will fill your cup.
Categories: wearying, anxiety, feelings, mental illness,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Too Many Words

Too many words..

Seems the condition

Of users of words..

Words qualifying words

Qualifying and confusing..

Wearying to the one

Seeking diligently to

End seeking..as the ending

Is hidden by words...
Categories: wearying, christian, confusion, journey, religion,
Form: Light Verse

Indolent Thought

Aspirations and labor will tire your sinew
And when all the wearying drudgery is through
Some slovenly fool will give you a careless burial
And take charge of your estate – proud and imperial.

This is the thinking of a million languid loafers
Who expect to accede to some easy coffers
When some hardworking fellow of their blood dies,
To drink of their vines as they yield to worms and flies.

While the industrious son prays for father’s long life
The indolent one’s heart is ever filled with inner strife
When the old man’s health flourishes like wild grass,
Wondering why the old fella wants to outlive the stars.
Categories: wearying, money,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member My God, Thank You For Filling Me With Good Things

September 27 Scripture Meditations Based on Luke 1

Key Verse– Luke 1:53 He (God) hath filled the hungry with good things… 

MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR FILLING ME WITH GOOD THINGS

Thank You for filling me with good things, so great
Notwithstanding my unfaithfulness of slothfulness’ bait…
Please accept my sincere confession-repentance state
May I be humble in calling unto You, not late, but up-to-date.

Thank You for filling me with good things, so bountiful
Notwithstanding my prayerfulness, dreadfully awful…
Please forgive my offensive apathy that’s never useful
May I be submissive in surrendering unto You against being boastful.

Thank You for filling me with good things, so satisfying
Notwithstanding my discontentment I keep denying…
Please help my frequent unbelief to stop from lying
May I be restrained in complaining against You with my selfish vying.

Thank You for filling me with good things, so timely
Notwithstanding my impatience shown obviously…
Please uphold my wearying endurance to wait earnestly
May I be prompt in prioritizing You along Your will joyously.

Thank You for filling me with good things, so generous
Notwithstanding my complaints of which I’m conscious…
Please correct my stinginess for me to be magnanimous
May I be selfless in pleasing You with character that’s virtuous.

Thank You for filling me with good things, so beneficial
Notwithstanding my ignorance of sovereign plan I regard as circumstantial…
Please guide my determined decisiveness towards what’s essential
May I be compliant in following You toward truth-journey, heavenly special.

Thank You for filling me with good things, so profitable
Notwithstanding my inefficiency, proving that I’m incapable…
Please uphold my biblical conviction for it to be stable
May I be steadfast in clinging to You through Your love, always available.

September 27, 2022
Categories: wearying, blessing, christian, faith, god,
Form: Rhyme
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