Best Wept Poems
She wept as they buried her one true love.
Each day thereafter she brought him a rose,
the flower she knew he was fondest of.
Her grief unbearable, beyond repose.
What pain and suffering his death bestows.
Nothing prevented her daily visit.
She didn't want him to feel all alone.
When beside him her face was exquisite.
When weary she would sigh and then lay prone,
weeping for her love in soft languished moan.
There, in restless sleep, flames of love still burned
'til the twilight hour, when she felt a chill
as the gentle warmth of sunlight adjourned.
She heard a dove singing a mourning trill,
begetting heartache's tears to flow and spill.
November 3, 2022 ~ 2022 Marathon Mile 19 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Originally written on 23rd of July 2016
Three Stanzas of English Quintain, 10 syllables per line
with a rhyme scheme of a-b-a-b-b
The day you died you took me with you,
The way you lied shook me black and blue.
The sorrow you felt, I sure felt it too,
The tomorrow dreams won’t come true.
All the good hello's turned into dying goodbye's,
All the to’s and fro’s burned holes in my eyes.
You thought you were so sly, but I always knew,
You fought so hard to die and knew I needed you.
Depressing mornings and nights of pure hell,
Lessening of warnings and sights when you fell.
Deprivation of your soul saving wonder,
Trepidation of your whole wavering thunder.
Heavy-hearted moments with stitches on your wrists,
Broken-hearted atonement with twitches on your fists.
Unheard thoughts engraved in your soul,
The third day I tried to save you...you lost control.
Forgiveness with a burden held on my left shoulder,
Impulsiveness when you're hurting, (I couldn't hold her).
Bleeding and burning and
living and dying....
Needing and turning and
giving and crying....
It's been five long years since I’ve rested and slept,
I try to smile but in my dreams even the angels wept.
Date Written: May 1, 2016
In camps, they’d slaved and starved; cold nights, they’d slept -
Each woman, man, and little girl and boy.
Relentless horror had around them crept.
In camps, they’d slaved and starved; cold nights, they’d slept
Until one day, even the angels wept!
For freedom’s win, the world cried tears of joy.
In camps, they’d slaved and starved; cold nights, they’d slept -
Each woman, man, and little girl and boy.
For Seeker's My Take on the Holocaust Poetry Contest
she roams cross the land her heart so bitter blue
leaving behind frosty morning dew
icy veil sadly unkept
laden woe upswept
she speechless
wept
left dreamless
numb regret windswept
no kind soul to intercept
cold bemoaning howling winds a clue
she roams cross the land her heart so bitter blue
AP: 2nd place 2020
Submitted on January 22, 2023 for contest WRITING CHALLENGE - ANDAREE sponsored by CONSTANCE LA FRANCE - RANKED 3rd
and July 7, 2019 for contest VERSE A FAVOURED THEME sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
The Black Hills wept for Thee
East of the Black Hills of South Dakota,
On the Pine Ridge Reservation,
Live a proud tribe of Oglala Lakota,
Part of the Great Sioux Nation.
On saddled chargers rode half the Regiment,
of the Seventh Cavalry.
A tune they played on behalf of the GarryOwen,
was such a sight to see.
While climbing through Prickly pines, they spied,
near the summit of Porcupine Butte.
Spotted Elk with Hunkpapa Lakota tribe,
the chief of the Minneconjou.
Five miles West through the cold day they walked,
the Lakota and soldiers of the Seventh,
Where Wounded Knee creek's icy waters balked,
between hell and heaven.
The Colonel ordered all of the tribe's rifles confiscated,
while the braves danced the ghost dance.
For rumor had spread of a new religion, long awaited,
that would turn the tide of chance.
Then suddenly came the report of rifles fired,
as the women and children fled to a ravine.
From the heights the thunder of cannon, now inspired,
close quarter fighting and lead, now convened.
Who knows where Providence went,
on that cold December morning.
Both guilty and innocent, now spent,
lay dead with little warning.
Bodies of the fallen now sprawled across the snowy plains,
with faces frozen in a moment of violence.
One mass grave with all, is all that remains,
of tears and laughter forever silenced.
In the days that followed medals were pinned to chests,
who proclaimed victoriously.
Though God only knows why, ignoble and divest,
life taken in vain, ingloriously.
In the shadow of the land of Sitting Bull,
was now told the tragic story.
Passed down from Mother to Daughter were recounted,
days of lost glory.
“Let us put our minds together to see what life we can make for our children.”
-Sitting Bull
'Tis now known why the Willow weeps,
a tragedy of love, its memory keeps.
For once a young man and young maid,
on tender grass, beneath branches lay.
Though pledged by birth to another,
from clans they hid, to be together.
Thus, the gentle Willow was their choice,
meeting beneath, till love they could voice.
The Willow held these secret lovers dear,
so would lower its boughs, when they drew near.
Thus tucked away in the Willow's womb,
could lay as one, yet this love was doomed.
For jealousy lurked within the pines,
spying young lovers thus entwined,
behind Willow's curtain of slender limbs,
He swore the maiden, would yet be his.
Thus, it came to pass one day,
as young maid softly made her way,
to their Willow, deep within the glen,
espied the branches did already bend.
Timidly, as she did draw near,
soft sound of sorrow fell upon her ears.
Parting Willow's branches to look within,
a dampness did touch upon her skin.
The Willow was shedding sap laden tears,
for the young man, in death, was near.
'Twas an arrow that had been used,
a potent poison, the tip infused.
The maiden, now blind with grieving mist,
pulled out the arrow, held it, in clenched fist.
Whilst cradled in love's arms, did he draw last breath.
Then, young maid, plunged the arrow, into her breast.
And so it is, that this story is told,
as the Willow's grief would not be consoled.
For unable to stop what had befell,
the young lovers, it had hid so well.
With will broken, as lovers lay dead,
the Willow, its branches, never again spread.
And because it is the memory it keeps,
it is to this day, that the Willow weeps.
In chains, did he complain —
this man of sorrows?
He wore his stripes well.
Freedom for all! Freedom for all!
Follow the cross, the bleeding tree.
This holy man, he wept for you and me.
Encircled by snarling beasts —
they mock and strike
like venomous serpents.
Can you hear the cruel heartbeat
of angels who weep?
Follow the cross, the bleeding tree.
This holy man, he wept for you and me.
How vulgar our tongues!
They rage feeling sorry for themselves.
But, look in his loving eyes —
what do you see?
Follow the cross, the bleeding tree.
This holy man, he wept for you and me.
Did he stand before saints?
Did they seek the truth?
Every last one was out for himself.
But this man looked to release,
to relinquish the chains even of kings.
Follow the cross, the bleeding tree.
This holy man, he wept for you and me.
He sees the one in terror, the lonely,
the poor, the sick and lame. He showed
us who can heal all infirmity.
Surprise your dim eyes — lift them up
to the light.
Follow the cross, the bleeding tree.
This holy man, he wept for you and me.
If he returns today, how will he find you, my friend?
Will you bare your teeth or crumble at his feet.
Are you about cursings or blessings?
How do you feel about life and death?
Looking into his eyes, would you dare
to compromise?
Follow the cross, the bleeding tree.
This holy man, he wept for you and me.
Saints are former sinners, under his righteousness not wrath,
wrapped up in a robe of glory, under his glorious wings.
Saints “one another” as in:
love one another,
forgive one another,
do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
Follow the cross, the bleeding tree.
This holy man, he wept for you and me.
Are you caught in a snare of your own making?
Do you judge and stare at the others made in God’s image,
same as you?
Look into his soulful eyes! See the Spirit’s wings!
Follow the cross, the bleeding tree.
This holy man, he wept for you and me.
Kim Rodrigues © 7/5/2018
So sure of love and all that it can be
This kiss to celebrate the moment met
That’s why two lovers wept beneath a tree
There all the world if only eyes could see
Was placed there at their feet without regret
So sure of love and all that it can be
Their promises exchanged so preciously
That even passing clouds became beset
That’s why two lovers wept beneath a tree
Secure in trust they let their hearts fly free
Unknowing that the clouds weren’t finished yet
So sure of love and all that it can be
Love’s passions grew and joined the cloudy spree
Into this torrent destiny was set
That’s why two lovers wept beneath a tree
And with each storm they loved more carefully
Their memories will not let them forget
So sure of love and all that it can be
That’s why two lovers wept beneath a tree
The darkest clouds ever
... overshadowing sight never before seen
Ominous high noon weather
shuddered the souls witnessing
the
death
of
the King of kings
It was a festive occasion for the wicked
that Son-less day —
a Roman execution was underway
Three wooden crosses
were fastened to the sky
And the howling of the darkening air
changed the joyous atmosphere to fear
The wicked were taking pleasure
in their vote count
They were pleased with the final tally ...
a murderer being released
in exchange for
the
life
of
the Prince of Peace
The Conqueror of Sin now hanging on a cross,
dying the death:
Crucifixion —
so unimaginably painful
Roman capital punishment
was lethal lingering torture
But for the evildoer viewers, it was a short-lived savor
For the black clouds had blotted the sun,
plunging the sky into total darkness
Heaven wept that day,
without shedding a teardrop from the sky
Heaven cried that day,
blood tears of the Lamb of God
Sanctifying water soaked the ground
Cleansing the Resurrection plots,
that one day
would be opened by the trumpet sound
Heaven wept
funeral tears for us,
wearing a shrouded veil of darkness
Hiding anguished Holy eyes,
for
the
Father could not
look
upon
the
Son
As the King of kings Messiah savior blood
dripped
down
the cross
from a
thorny
crown
Sam dated Sandy, things were fine and dandy
Born into middle class means, they were killing that high school scene
One afternoon in Sandy’s bedroom their play went all the way
And the Angels wept that day
Sandy felt that they would marry, though Sam soon had his eye on Sally
Now Sam chased Sally, soon after that it was Allie
Sandy, Sally, and Allie; to Sam they were no more than tallies
And the Angels wept at this reality
Now across the nation, we can find these relations
Occurring in high schools from Bangor to Bakersfield
Thus, today another voiceless soul was ripped away as a right
And the Angels will weep again tonight
One more day I slept serene,
while some where distant bombs
and screams awaken others from their dreams..
One more day I quenched my thirst
while others trapped and feared the worst,
living out war's curse.
One more day I tidied, swept, while elsewhere
children died, mothers wept,
cried in anguish, so bereft..
One more day my skies were blue.
I ventured out with things to do,
while others watched their world unglue.
A bitter cold bites amongst the sky.
A loveless void, emptying a heart so true.
A patience begins to wilt and die.
A stark black fills what once was blue.
I’d like to know everything,
I’d like to know the truth.
Why don’t the wilds sing,
Spilling secrets of our youth?
In this time of dying,
You’ve been given a letter.
What’s to stop me crying,
Of a world that was once better?
Mistakes so costly were made.
A lovers yearn went unpaid.
Cold winter nights,
Turn to colder summer dreams.
Battling off these frights,
I’m lost in endless screams.
A satisfaction not rightly kept,
Amongst the hearts of all who lost.
Pages stained as poets wept,
Withering from the cost.
So long my beloved friend,
I wish to see you well.
Is this the truthful end,
Trapped in my eternal hell?
Days of poet motivate calm compassion.
Sheer injustice evident—every turnpike
manned by soldiers’ wild unfamiliar passion
planned around harsh Strike.
Summonsed lamb to slaughter, but still respecting
burning bush—obedience lit by daydream,
Ares now advance with his pride, suspecting
alter in regime.
Bending truth to suit the occasion’s essence,
whispers coil in shadows of veiled renitence.
Glow of waters lap at the swirling valence.
Ebbing of sentience.
Psappho wept—her dream has dispersed as token.
Rose-fingered moon’s face will exceed all starlight.*
Silence now descends tableau muffled, Brocken
Spectre of moonlight.
Many years ago my
dear mother left me
and went to be with
Jesus.
My heart wept for her,
that sad day in June,
my life was not the
same anymore.
As anyone who
has ever lost someone
close to them knows
the feeling.
Mother was the
comfort of my
heart everyday
of my life.
She taught me
about God and
how to love everyone.
She told me to never
lie, telling the truth
was always the best
thing to do.
To treat others fair
and kind, to always
say thank you and
please.
She taught me
to put others first
and my self last.
Mother taught me
all of these things,
by doing them her self.
Mother I have not
always done those
things, but I know
that I should do them.
Loving you always
waiting till that day
when I will put my
arms around your
and say thank you
my loving dear mother.
wrote 9-2-08
Even the Angels wept
As I walked amidst stars
to find my glitter fade into their twinkle,
With my dears I was at war
loneliness reflected in my wrinkles,
Few smiles in darkness if life could sprinkle ..
Heyday of life and many promises unkept,
To knocks of heaven, even the Angels wept.
Written May 5th, 2016
For contest by John lawless
Awarded N/A
Now entered for "Second chance may 16" poetry contest by Eve