Clinging Poems | Examples

Clinging To My Brow

Veiled by clever branches, limbs
silken strands, protecting me
from the eyes who’re like pseudonyms
beckoning with iris’ clever and wild

secreted beneath gossamers, flowing
in whispers of hope for the morn
risking each breathless moment, unknowing
what to expect with the journey’s quest

shrouded by the strands, elusive
like the moment when I knew true pain
beyond the shadows, so abusive
feeling the fears who reach my soul

concealed from a world who hurries
never allowing my heart to heal
these wisps of melancholic flurries
remember locks who write the songs

unseen by those who might discourage me
each curl, each tress, each quiet tuft
silences the fears who seem to guarantee
expressing myself means letting go 

hidden by the mane who drifts, curving
sinuous and graceful, a layer of shelter
always protecting and preserving
so I have refuge, a haven, a secure home

unseen, my eyes hide beneath the maze
a mane of defense, shielding me from foes
those who might not understand my gaze
only see the pain and never what I gain

Clinging to Hope: Hold onto This Anchor, Please

I have been tossed in raging tempest storms,
and dealt with life's stress far beyond the norm.
I've walked alone on nights of pouring rain,
felt blows of physical and mental pain.

I've gazed at stars glowing above my head,
tried to forget sorrowful things I dread.
Stayed in bed when the sunlight rose at dawn,
my window shades pulled tight, and curtains drawn. 

There were hungry times with nothing to eat, 
cried myself to sleep, verging on defeat.
I've wakened on mornings of birds singing...
the sound of church bells that I hear ringing.

Comforted knowing God, my Father cares,
Hope is my anchor, my burdens He bears.

clinging

clinging
three beggar-lice seeds....
housecoat

Clinging to Words

"Love you a lot."
Words never said with honest hands.

This devilish lip-service
conducted
by defrocked priests.

I will not love myself
until,
I find you in a hole
I also can jump into.

We will huddle together
listening for the
hot breath of hunting wolves,

not knowing it is we,
we who breathe so coarsely,
so loud,
so lost and feral.

Mortal

A sense of mortality makes us clingers

Resurrection as a lifestyle makes us stewards

Clinging On

wave
after
wave
pounding
ruthlessly 
against
Her
weary
jaded mind
defiantly
eroding
tattered 
threads
of frail
sanity…
and yet...
She
clings to
hope

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  

Waltz Wave Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet 
        Placed 4th
© 14th March 2023

Clinging Stares Under the Cloak of Darkness

They get braver, it seems, under the cloak of darkness
Like a monster from a bedtime story,
Peeling back its human mask, allowed to roam free on the pitch-black streets
And everyone, they think its you that is the problem. 
“That shirt’s too short to go out in”
“You know, girls are getting trafficked at the mall now, you might want to cover up”
“Make noise, if someone grabs you, yell, scream, anything”
And them, the creatures of the night,
They whistle and stare
Eyes dragging over you, leaving you feeling dirty all over
They aren’t human anymore, at night
And even in the bright spots, under lampposts and in front of stores,
No one is safe
And your mother’s there at 8 sharp, just before the sun dips below the horizon
Gone are the days of carefree play
Gone are the nights lite up with fireflies
The harmless, twinkling bugs have been replaced by 
snarling, 
whistling,
staring-too-long 
creatures of the night

Clinging To Undulating Lines

I studied your vital signs 
as time was in question,
clinging to undulating lines.
I studied your vital signs,
emotions mirroring their declines,
desperate for a receptive expression.
I studied your vital signs 
as time was in question.

5-21-2021
Try a Triolet Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kim Merryman

Fisherman

Cold odd keys to lost cities glisten
as spikes of torment test the frigid
cold fish hands feeding ropes
into the winds biting kiss, 
teeth gnashed against themselves.
Hanging on for life 
Men in shirts of frozen plaid
disrobing for a touch of longing, 
belonging to a certain tribe.
Whether they acknowledge it or not 
they are each a star within the field.
A leaf, a blade, a patch of shade
within the black.
Each one forever fighting
to remain, 
or to get back.

Clinging Memories

Pleached charming cherry trees,

along the avenue called Breeze,

a stunning visual creation of mind,

only in the artist's place you can find.


I dazzle by its bearing beauty,

while the sun flashes its ray

through the intertwined twigs,

flowers, and leaves.


My bittersweet memories fly,

like Red Admiral butterflies,

they perch on its dancing scions,

smell the savor with their passion.


I let them cling, staple high,

so everytime I'll pass by ,

they'll bring a touch of healing 

my heart that's been tearing.

To Christ Am Always Clinging

To Christ Am Always Clinging

voice will be bringing
to Christ are always clinging
while we were singing

Jim Horn

Ultimate Sunset

Ultimate Sunset
by Michael R. Burch

for my father, Paul Ray Burch, Jr. 

he now faces the Ultimate Sunset,
his body like the leaves that fray as they dry,
shedding their vital fluids (who knows why?)
till they’ve become even lighter than the covering sky,
ready to fly ...

Keywords/Tags: sky, sunset, autumn, leaves, leaving, dry, fraying, shedding, fluids, death, cling, clinging, wind, flight, fly, flying, transport, free fall, liftoff, departure, bare, barren, leafless, skeletal, light

Free Fall To Liftoff

Free Fall to Liftoff

for my father, Paul Ray Burch, Jr. 

I see the longing for departure gleam
in his still-keen eye, 
                                   and I understand his desire
to test this last wind, like those late autumn leaves
with nothing left to cling to ...

Keywords/Tags: autumn, winter, leaves, leaving, cling, clinging, wind, death, flight, fly, flying, transport, free fall, liftoff, departure, bare, barren, leafless, skeletal, uplifting, heaven

First and Last

First and Last
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

You are the last arcane rose
of my aching,
my longing,
or the first yellowed leaves’
vagrant spirals of gold
forming huddled bright sheaves.
You are passion forsaking
dark skies, as though sunsets no winds might enclose.

And still in my arms
you are gentle and fragrant—
demesne of my vigor,
spent rigor,
lost power,
fallen musculature of youth,
leaves clinging and hanging,
nameless joys of my youth to this last lingering hour.

Published by Tucumcari Literary Review and Poetry Life & Times.
Keywords/Tags: rose, love, ache, desire, longing, passion, autumn, leaves, leaving, clinging, hanging, sunset, lost, youth, joy, joys, yellowed, golden, first, last, final

Clinging To Nothing

Tangled up in your sheets,
trying to make seconds last
Except for no-matter what we did,
the time it sped by so fast

The clock was a ticking time bomb,
soon it was gonna explode
You held me like you could stop time,
like our whole world wouldn't implode

The moment I stepped on that place,
that each second took me away
As tightly as we clung together,
In the end, I could never stay

• Short Clinging Poems
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