Best Withered Poems
Each day another velvet petal fell
Like somber tears from weeping eyes
A perfect flower was severed to quell
It lay withering as it drooped and died
Perfect flower, from bud to bloom
Sweet-scented rose, it was no wonder
That stifled in that sepulcher room
You were enshrined, awaiting plunder
Sadness lingers in me over your demise
Withered petals are always a cause for pain
But I'll remember you without tears in my eyes
The memory of your fragrance shall remain
Categories:
withered, bereavement, farewell, flower, rose,
Form:
Rhyme
I open the book of time once more and again,
where pages are engraved in my mind;
the worn old pages- all tattered and yellow,
oh, here is the house of my childhood;
and my memories come twirling . . .
The smell of old wood and the stained glass,
the french doors and the long curved staircase;
my little room overlooking the garden,
and the big claw foot bathtub- a lake to a child;
the kitchen old and cozy with wonderful smells,
mom humming as she cooks . . .
A little girl (me) playing quietly on the front porch,
with long hair in tangles and rosy cheeks;
and grandma rocking and rocking and knitting,
and I hear dad busy in his workshop;
my baby brother in his stroller sleeping,
oh, the happiness . . .
A child's table set for tea and dolls sitting pretty,
a real teapot and some china cups (a gift from grandma);
my kitty cat Snowball asleep on one chair . . .
I walk up the shady street of my memory,
up that big hill where I rode my bike;
to the end of our quiet dappled street,
and into a park lush green and full of songs;
oh yes, the water lilies float on the pond,
and white swans and ducks drift . . .
Further down the street and up a hill,
is an old church with big ornate doors;
I enter the gloom in my mind remembering,
pungent the smell of candles flickering;
and the memories flood back . . .
The worn withered pages of my childhood,
all the pages tattered and yellowed with time;
then slowly- I close tight this book of time,
until the next time . . .
_______________________
July 7, 2019
Poetry/Verse/Withered Pages of My Childhood
Copyright Protected, ID 19- 1164-783-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Childhood Memories
sponsor, Chantelle Anne Cooke
First Place
Categories:
withered, childhood,
Form:
Verse
Summer’s warmth breezed upon the verdant hills
Quivering golden twilight’s zesty marigold appeal
Scintillating rustling leaves in resplendent prairies
While eventide’s glaring aura emulated your zeal
When leisurely you strolled on tranquil sandy beach
As sun’s amber beams glimmered your footprints.
Delighted by your visit, thrilled in your company,
Reveling your mystique I unfolded your dreams,
Enchanted I revered the pulse of your heartbeats
When every hug blushed the face of your fantasy
As slowly you revealed to me what true love means
Sprinkling hints boldly in flirtatious fervid kisses.
Virgin aspirations soon titillated beats of romance
Inducing seduction in every touch, every glance,
Embracing moonlit desires, gazing twinkling stars
Cuddling dreamy nights through melodies of dawns
As lyrics of sensual reveries wrote our love story
Extolling virtuous yearnings in blazing hearts’ music.
I remember you left amidst autumn’s ruby winds
As ocher themes dazzled, whirling russet leaves;
We treasured those longings, cherishing love sublime,
But the allure of its sensuous vows faded over time
When we grew apart trading ambivalent feelings
And promises, once idyllic, altered their meaning…
Yet, passions still ignite, doting withered memories.
July 6, 2020
Placed 2nd: One that got away poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
Categories:
withered, lost love, love, romantic,
Form:
Verse
Withered Are Memories Made On False Ground
Majesty of her charms , pale in light now
Love's glow has died, ashes only remain
She was sad , my heart took a fleeing bow
Her cries left only darkened bitter stain
No long goodbye words, we both knew not how
She was mad, I felt no need to explain
What is the past but dead dreams on black ice
Time returns us not to make our amends
Wishful thinking, going back would be nice
Yet new pains could rise, and forward it sends
With no overs, nothing said would suffice
Best journey on, racing around the bends
In hindsight , glory heavily infests
False goodness and sweet touches abound
However, truth lies in dark empty nests
Where heartache and misery were first found
Seek not ye fools gold as wisdom suggests
Withered are memories made on false ground
Robert J. Lindley, 5-02-2016
Categories:
withered, art, life, love hurts,
Form:
Rhyme
When your ambition didn’t tally with mine,
we had to learn to steer a common course.
Our earlier dreams withered on the vine
Our individual pasts were our source.
In the interest of our joint future
we had to learn to steer a common course.
If at different rates we would mature,
then allowances we must surely make
in the interest of our joint future.
To be genuinely woke or a fake,
focus only on a global career,
then allowances we must surely make.
From humanitarian course don’t veer:
for that, I am eternally grateful.
Focus only on a global career.
Resisting temptation to be spiteful
when your ambition didn’t tally with mine;
for that, I am eternally grateful.
My earlier dreams withered on the vine.
Categories:
withered, humanity,
Form:
Terzanelle
The Withered Rose
The withered rose
May be tattered and torn
Scorned by past trauma
Still, she is beautiful…
She keeps thorns to protect
That which is left
She has been eaten alive
Stepped on near death
Therefore, it is the withered rose
That I adore
For there is beauty in her struggle…
Categories:
withered, analogy, art, flower, poems,
Form:
Free verse
The carcass of beauty spent and done
picked clean by the scavengers of time;
whose fading memories of summer
ask for no quarter and offer none.
Winter winds tango with scattered leaves
in step with a different drummer;
spinning fragments of color and light
into chromatic threads, Autumn weaves.
A scarecrow showing signs of neglect,
looks outlandish, with no crops in sight;
a hobo haphazardly homespun,
on guard, with naught but mud to protect.
When fledgling goslings learn how to fly,
geese follow the monarch butterfly;
and flock south, their honks splitting the sky,
bidding Summer's withered bloom goodbye.
Categories:
withered, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Rhyme
Each day another velvet petal fell
Like somber tears from weeping eyes
A perfect flower was severed to quell
It lay withering as it drooped and died
Perfect flower, from bud to bloom
Sweet-scented rose, it was no wonder
That stifled in that sepulcher room
You were enshrined, awaiting plunder
Sadness lingers in me over your demise
Withered petals are always a cause for pain
But I'll remember you without tears in my eyes
The memory of your fragrance shall remain
~ Reposted from 2015 ~
Categories:
withered, death,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh-
feet of mine
that walk the meadows vast and green
where azure skies and clouds unfold
and a stream comes babbling on a long climb
and wind like violins whisper cold
as leaves twirl red, orange and gold
and in the swaying trees birds sing sublime
melodies serene
Oh-
this withered threshold
where time is lingering in a season in-between
where bees drink from a faded marigold
and there are so many lovely scenes to behold
Oh-
I turn weary footsteps to a shaded place
to find a hued space
quiet
______________________
September 07, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/this withered threshold
Copyright Protected, ID 09-1485-898-07
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, A Brian Strand Premiere Choice
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 09/09/2022
Fourth Place
Categories:
withered, autumn, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
I left you out in the winter
watched you shiver from the cold
beauty silently fading
soon you turned the withered rose
Tears freezing as they flowed
for my love you pleaded
a face of pain and desperation
your cries I left unheeded
Now my conscience is never ending
how could i have been so cruel
my flower of beauty
I truly put an end to you
Categories:
withered, sorry
Form:
Lyric
On
the verge
of heaven-
'ere the petals
bloom
Tribute to Michael Bruce and William Soutar
See my blog today for background
Categories:
withered, dedication, people
Form:
Lanterne
****** WITHERED BUT WISER ******
Older becomes withered, but hopefully wiser...
Thinning skin becomes invisibly thicker, tougher...
Dry and delicate though more resilient and resolute...
Wrinkled mouth still strong and determined to impart wisdom...
Diminished sight seeing life more clearly than ever...
Less endurance yet more strength to keep on living...
Weaker hands still strong for hugs and embraces...
Declining memory for yesterday but remembering in detail...
past years of children, birthdays, anniversaries...
Weaker heart beating strong and sure...
With renewed purpose and passions...
So, age related changes, probably subjectively...
viewed as negative actually morphed into positives...
for the benefits of us all...
~~~~ WITHERED BUT WISER ~~~~
Aged losses become youths' gains....!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Categories:
withered, age, wisdom,
Form:
Rhyme
Withered hands that have lived a thousands lives over,
hold me above the sinister ways that life has tricked me.
A grandfather with the weight of the world on his shoulders,
selfless skin tearing itself off again and again, in my time of need.
A grandmother brimmed with hope in every way,
heart glowing with an overflow of spitfire and mellow ways.
An upbringing of jagged edges and congested endearment.
Whispers from the sincere lips, that all would be okay, I find to be my only escape.
A mother with skeleton keys for fingers and hands, heaviness caving in with each breath taken for me.
A father who I can no longer recognize,picture fading faster than his mind did.
An arising of tattered lies and battered promises.
Arms wrapped in an unusual fashion to conceal me from the world.
Hands playing spiderwebs along my eyes, my only blanket against the turmoil.
Sunlight invading a windowless room of my mind, where my skin can finally speak for itself.
The nurturing of sheltered wounds and cushioned mentality.
Simple notes tipping the atmosphere in melancholic seasons.
The only voices that can soothe a shattered vessel,to sew the barriers of a rib cage back together.
Country rhythms the first to entice a soul, lyrics spiraling out hopeless promises.
The blooming of diverse tunes and rattling pipes.
Arms wrapped in an unusual fashion to conceal me from the world.
Hands playing spiderwebs along my eyes, my only blanket against the turmoil.
Sunlight invading a windowless room of my mind, where my skin can finally speak for itself.
The nurturing of sheltered wounds and cushioned mentality.
The flourishing of knitted flesh and stitched thoughts.
Categories:
withered, absence, appreciation, happy, love,
Form:
Free verse
I laid my dreams upon a stone,
To see how far they could be thrown.
Upon the wind, the stone, I cast;
And after many years had past.
I found the stone, but alas,
My dreams had fallen on withered grass.
I gave the grass what I thought it needed.
To God above, through prayer, I pleaded.
With care and nurturing I could see,
My dreams were coming back to me.
Categories:
withered, hope,
Form:
Lyric
My flower
My precious flower
The flower that gave out many flowers
Flowers including me.
You were my flower
Yes, the mother flower
The flower that withered without been sick.
I knew one day we might depart
You first or me
But I never thought of you
Just departing so fast, so easily, so silently
Without a good bye..!
you were not old; Matronly beautiful
You marked the beauty of our world
you made the scent of our garden
The light of our heaven.
I always prayed for you to wait a little
Just few minutes to see me grow
I dreamed you to enjoy my flowers
The new garden I'm creating from my seeds.
I wanted you to mentor the little roses of mine
How to be beautiful in and out
How to be beautiful forever.
Why you choose not to wait a little?
Why you just go that way?
What grub made you shrivel?
What Pupa withered you so fast?
Tell me...
Who should I blame then...
you or the creator of the chrysalis?
I just don't know
For sure, my heart will be sick forever.
Categories:
withered, morning,
Form:
Elegy