Breath Poems - Poems about Breath

If you were mine, I would wake to the taste of rain on your shoulder blade, trace the salt-paths sleep leaves on your temple, and let the morning spill through the crack beneath our door. When you turn toward me in lamplight, I would memorize the way shadows collect in the hollow of your throat, how your pulse drums against my palm— morse code of a...

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In twilight’s breath, dark swallowing light Cloaked in shadows of dry gin and vermouth Echoes growing louder in council of secrets No longer muffled whispers of raven flight But Polly wants a cracker perched on a wooden throne Yet feast on the bones Polly has got a pair of big childish and curious eyes A body full of curves made for adventure And...

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Where streetlights flicker and windows gleam, I heard her heels on dark concrete— sharp clicks that carved the midnight air, her cigarette a crimson flame against a city thick with dreams. "You came," she whispered, night held close, her fingers traced along my wrist, a gentle path through scattered drops, her touch a spark, her glance a vow that trembled in the lamplight's glow. Her...

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When I set out to write a love poem, I imagine you as the crack before thunder finds its voice, your breath breaking the laws of gravity between us. You are no angel— but something that makes clocks forget their purpose, your pulse humming morse code beneath my skin. The coffee cup you leave steaming near the sink outlasts your absence by exactly seven...

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Love, he says, sounds like a door closing softly in a room he built for your name— that deliberate click of the latch catching on possibility, the way silence expands after the last word has been spoken. Watch him afterward: how he becomes a man translating himself into a language he's never learned, his phone glowing at 3 AM with your name typed, erased into the void...

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breathless at line's end with the phrase too long to sing I asked for right time ~ No syllables after noon No words beyond 9:30...

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J-ogging U-ses L-egs I-n E-xercise T-o V-alidly E-nergize L-ungs A-nd S-imply C-atch O-xygen ©bfa060125 Monocrostic (Birthday of Juliet Velasco)...

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A-mazon N-ature's G-reen E-mbodiment L-ushly H-elps I-ts P-lanet O-n L-eaves I-n T-rees O-xygenating ©bfa060525 Monocrostic (Birthday of Angel P. Hipolito)...

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I close my eyes, Be still my heart, I’m not ready to be apart, Beating deep, A saddened heart, Nobody said it would be this hard, Pain runs deep, Flowing in these veins of mine, Forever wouldn’t have been enough time, Tears flow, One at a time, This much hurt should be a crime, Now I stand alone, The sun brings a new dawn, A new day...

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My Breath Each time I inhale, I feel God's touch even in sorrow. I know I'm not an angel, But in spirit, God gave me a halo. I don't need fancy words to pray — Just the depth of breath I take. He listens in silence, Even when I break. Storms at sea, drowning the fire in me, Yet in my breath...

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No breath of life from Creator-- no warm, hopeful womb in which to grow....

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What's life's offer, forgotten innocent hunger feeds Thirst within the soul questioning existing What is a man except all that he is His fight insane, death a reflected memory The struggle for hope and dreams fade Reality of life we pay our freedom Never free, just drama of societies killing Is every not suppose be...

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That morning I prayed to flickering exit signs, to the hum of fluorescent lights, to anything that would listen in that sterile room. Then— your cry pierced the air like dawn cracking open the night, sudden and necessary, and I knew every prayer I'd ever whispered had been practice for this one moment. Your fist, smaller than my thumb, gripped my finger with the fierce certainty of someone who had...

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Soft fade, Breath, shadow, echo— Silent goodbye lingers, Whispers drift through twilight air— Goodbye. ________________________________________________________________ Author’s Note: Twilight Whispers captures the soft, vanishing edges of farewell as day dissolves into night. In this quiet threshold, fading breaths and distant echoes drift through the dusk—subtle, haunting, and intangible. The poem reflects on the fragile nature of parting, where goodbyes are felt more than...

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My voice broke on the edge of breath. We stripped the bark from our ribs like trees to find no center. Blood is a language we forgot in churches. I held your absence like a flame burning under my tongue, while skin remembers the names we never spoke. I was becoming not better just closer to the fracture before the old name. And you fell into me like a glyph not carved. We did not rise we undressed....

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