Best Wilting Poems
Roses are red, Violets are blue,
Birds are still chirping and clouds are askew;
The sun is still shining as the flowers renew.
Leaving me breathless reveling the view,
I leisurely watch as though I'm wanted too.
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Roses are dry, violets are tilting,
Shadows gloom over the barren and wilting;
I sit there and watch, my happiness jilting.
What once was so vibrant was now turned to grey,
Slowly but surely withering away.
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Roses are dead, as violets are too,
Everything in sight now an ungodly hue;
My once a happy life was swallowed by truth.
Wondering why after all this time I've succumb,
I silently apologized as my body went numb.
-Rebecca V.
Categories:
wilting, anxiety, bullying, cry, depression,
Form:
Rhyme
I carried it on my lap all the way to you,
The bus ride was so long, so long, Mom;
Lost in old memories of you and me, together,
I just looked out the window all the way.
Holding a wilting red rose ~
The gate of the cemetery creaked as usual,
The path filled with many crumbling leaves;
Cool wind took my long raven hair blowing it back,
I felt my tears falling as I neared your tomb.
Holding a wilting red rose ~
I stood for a long time with my eyes closed,
The words carved in stone and in my heart;
Feeling the pride of a daughter for a wonderful Mom,
I fell to my knees weeping for what is lost.
Holding a wilting red rose ~
Then at last I rose and dried the forever tears,
I touched the words carved on your cold tomb;
And retraced my steps down the path, closing the gate,
I boarded the bus and was soon lost in thought.
Holding a wilting red rose ~
. . . . . still
________________________________
May 11, 2014
Poetry/Verse/Holding a wilting red rose
Copyright Protected, ID 05-565-847-11
All Rights Reserved, 2014, Constance La France
Categories:
wilting, death, mother, mothers day,
Form:
Verse
Quietly I sit and observe the profile of her expressionless young face.
She looks so peaceful and serene, a flower in the full bloom of life. Her hair flows softly around her in its auburn beauty. Now I see her eyes flutter open, and observe how thick her long lashes are; how they pleasantly frame her light green eyes. Her flawless skin has a translucent quality to it, so silky and smooth.
crimson rose in bloom
seared petals bleed heavy tears
down a stem of thorns
A near drowning victim, she is getting restless, her breathing becomes labored. I hurry over and adjust the oxygen cannula in her nose and take her vital signs. Then I stroke
her arm to comfort her as I raise the head of her bed and adjust her pillows. She seems to settle down with a heavy sigh.
Are those tears around the corners of her blank, staring eyes?
Tiny beads of sweat lightly dampen her forehead
I prepare a cool, wet towel and place it over her brows.
What a beautiful flower she is, how brief her bloom. Now her flower has been plucked too soon.
She is wilting, her petals are fainting, falling...
weeping flower bends
colors weaken, fade away
falling so softly
October 28, 2020
Categories:
wilting, life, sad,
Form:
Haibun
Wilting Flowers
What in life is commonly shared
But to scream out in frustration together!
From this chair I watch the flowers droop
As useful purpose is cruelly removed,
While my freshness disappears,
Abhorrently, in sustained tears.
I scarcely question depression’s invasion
And try half-heartedly contemplating escapism.
It’s the complexity of organismal cannibalism
(Feeding on each other to thrive in this environment)
That bends my conscience, revealing nature’s intent
Of a point desperately sought, “called meaning.”
And then to be disappointed when it is discovered
That the answer lies in a vase of wilting flowers.
Categories:
wilting, depression, flower, life, perspective,
Form:
Verse
Asian sun rises from the east
Rose seeds beneath the fence
For these petals are released
The perfumed smell of the rose lingers
The scene is hailed by the divine
Asian sun rises from the east
Although the rose has passed
Its impression will remain
For these petals are released
Death has come and the rose withers
No other like it will be spotted
Asian sun rises from the east
The rose has moved on to another place
Tunnel of light is iridescent
For these petals are released
The Sun sets in the West
The rose is laid to rest
Asian sun rises from the east
For these petals are released
Categories:
wilting, deep, flower, image, love,
Form:
Villanelle
Drained and dried by life then left to die
She lived to love; but oft was left to cry
Counseled to carry on she continues
Shriveling as to She'ol her heart schuss
Holding on to hopes a hazard in her eyes
Immature and imbecilic it implies
Weary from wishing an end to her woe
she shelters her shredded spirit in shadow
Without febrility from festering passions to foil
unavowed feelings wilt under burnt umber soil
As expectation of love's exalted expressions fades
desires deaden; in desperation she no longer wades
03/25/2018
Categories:
wilting, growth, identity, moving on,
Form:
Alliteration
Little sibling don't you weep
We'll be together again some day
Close your eyes;go to sleep
It'll all soon be o.k
The longing for you stabbed me deep
Very soon I'll be on your way...
For us to be together like the old golden days
Now don't you fear,don't you cry,wipe those tears off your face
I have th faith that everything will soon go back to place
Mama wants you to be an ace
Make her smile;prove the world that you're not a broken vase
Face the sky, worship God
He's our most devoted guard
United or apart we will forever be...
Part of our family
With our blood in pain
Together,we will surely stop this rain
And all of us will once again
Live in harmony in our torn domain
Aunt, mom, our cousins and dad
Always wanted us to have the life they never had
Their past was very sad
But they brought us up well, for that,we must be glad
Thou the family is torn apart
The hope for a better future will never leave my heart
Aunt always said:"The good day will come"
So let's be on the guard for the rise of that morning's sun.
-----------
S. Nuno Pereira
nun3ca©
Categories:
wilting, faith, family, longing, together,
Form:
Lyric
in such drowsy prospect
with concrete filling my throat,
I wile-away with Narcissus
until belief beckons at ego’s pace
to chase disgrace on wobbly knees,
shaking my Etch-A-Sketch clean.
Yet, messages slice across the loom
to make room for conscious doom
in disharmony penned
across all strata of travel
like a mantra pinning our climb
away from soaring self-fulfillment
revealed only in the pause between
hasty breaths surrendered in chase
as hunter or limber prey
forcing that day we drive
terror away from operatives
determined to snap our branches.
Categories:
wilting, allegory, history
Form:
Free verse
Tell me, tell me, the little voice hisses –
Your deepest secret; your childish delight.
Of buried schemes and dreams it whispers.
Why do you darken my world and line it in creases;
Crushed in the clasp of your blinding city lights?
Tell me, tell me, the little voice hisses.
When you’re drowning, staggering, it reaches
Out – of castles hidden beneath the tapestry of night,
Of buried schemes and dreams, it whispers.
In a saccharine world layered with lies and kisses,
Why are you so mindless to your plight?
Tell me, tell me, the little voice hisses.
Sure as the sun sets, a daisy must wither;
Silently – creeping has the day come for your rite –
Of buried schemes and dreams it whispers.
In your mind, defying Time, a little boy lingers;
Of buried schemes and dreams he whispers.
Your heart still remembers our world so bright,
So why have you left? The little voice cries.
Categories:
wilting, age, angst, childhood, innocence,
Form:
Villanelle
Fragility... vulnerability
Like a wilting flower
Jelly sensitivity
Wobbly....
Man up
Cultivate a strong,
Backbone.
Categories:
wilting, strength,
Form:
Prose
The spring is wilting, it's leaves of veins slit red and makeshift graves where truth once layed upon a bed of roses.
Those roses whose shoots once rose, through ashes of adversity now show no signs that the roots are even there; the blood has drowned it everywhere.
The petals are burning through the smog, which strangles voices in it's fog; the vegetation doesn't grow, it bellows in pain as the rockets rain another day.
The spring is wilting, the summer's doubtful if it comes. All time is ending; and no ears can hear a sound. The fires suffocate it all.
The glimmer of truth still skies the hope but still the peasants die; there isn't time to mourn their passing for here come yet more rockets from the sky.
Will there ever be a summer?
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To the martyrs and innocents killed in Libya, Syria and Bahrain. Let us pray your deaths were not in vain and that the world will see a summer come again.
Categories:
wilting, death, hope, life, peace,
Form:
Free verse
I am nothing more
Than a simple blade of grass --
Walked on and wilting.
Categories:
wilting, angst, depression, imagination, introspection,
Form:
Senryu
wilting heart
love water needed
with sweet smile
Categories:
wilting, heart, love,
Form:
Haiku
"The wilting leaf aches now for the drops that once caressed its waxy surface as
they slithered down in fury propelled by the rainstorm."
Categories:
wilting, words, writing,
Form:
Free verse
I know him infinitely, in the forest where he grows.
Where speckled greenery is abundant and joyful, paranoid and secretive.
I know him infinitely.
Quietly observing his growth
I am patient as dew waiting to die.
His only wilting habit erases my sense of time
and there in some expanding Heaven I’ll deceive myself,
no white cloud holds me for I am weighted by his world
in which I consumed some time ago.
Trees that grow wild and tall may conceal his existence
but his will is strong and his roots drink only Holy Water;
in prayer I sense his sins which covet his soul.
He is no sin to me, just a beautiful thing I care to nurture.
Perhaps the hand of God planted this seed we found together
and in some universe this love is something of a treasure.
No metal ever so precious, no gold ever so spectacular
could compare to our fate embroidered infinity.
To know him is to apprehend the forest in which he is indifferent to.
He never heeds his immediate surroundings for he knows his home is Heaven,
and in each cloud he creates a step closer to discovering
an answer to the question neither of us claim yet are mutually mulling.
Silent are the days and nights but I know his eyes;
I know him infinitely wilting and alive in full bloom.
Categories:
wilting, introspection, life, love, passion,
Form:
Free verse