Damp Poems - Poems about Damp

I never knew some girls could be so mean and carry on like a trans high school teen. It sure ain’t raging hormones cos this coven are old crones who crave attention and wish to be seen! So I shall grant them that wish they so crave and make ‘em my witch ‘n make ‘em...

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Your hair smells like the rain, damp and heavy, but still so undeniably you. You sit cross-legged on the floor, telling me about a dream you had where we were clouds, floating somewhere we couldn’t name. I wanted to ask if it was lonely, but instead, I ran my fingers through your hair, feeling the knots and tangles like the spaces between us....

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Sometimes I need light. Sometimes we, sometimes everyone needs light. In the dark and the damp of rooms, of feelings, of thoughts and of our lives that flow, we need light from the window, from the open door, from the open spaces under the open skies, and then we need some lights to glow, but from where, when or whether it will come or...

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I rig a dream to fill it with all the anguish my heart has felt in a damp world always weeping. My worn coat hangs in a closet, its arms empty, like winter branches sighing, their damp world weeping. A yearning to run, an inhale of rain, I yield to a vulture of shadows weeping in damp worlds. In the...

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#Damp_with_pain These floors have drank much of my tears, see these salt spots corroding even the tar, how deep and fatal is my pain, see the blood lines tattooed in my eyes, they stem deep inside my heart. Only if my heart had a mouth to speak, hearing ears would tear apart, for my pain is now...

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Attached segregated I touched his warm skin yet Deceased He was asleep he was non awaken He was hidden he was asleep under the sheet he slept His chest no longer rose I placed the side of my face contemplating Down by his nose his eyes were shut closed No breath his soul a spirit risen he was...

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grey clouds like shrouds hover cover wind speed like steed fright'ning lightning thunder sunder cryin' welkin raindrops fat plops muddles puddles pit pat rhythm that awakes damp shakes earth drenched thirst quenched God's free AC ...

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Jumping in the rain Cloudy boat runs after sun Shadow is trigger © Mahtab Bangalee 19/03/2023...

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A briefly wrung-out sky is blotched with clammy clouds. A humid air clings to my chest. Damp squirrels hang limply from dripping branches. Desultory birdsong mops but not much. I yearn for the cold slap of sea-spray, chill cheeks and fresh lips not this damp-dive-walking through a moist miasma. Maybe the day will shake itself free of its mope? Perhaps this drizzle will tip over into a cresting surf...

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Immovable object that you see? Truly not, if you allow it free. Intolerable silence you hear? Try softening your sense of fear. Impersonal, harsh touch of old love? Therapeutic caress from above. Inevitable in taste of grief? Transitioning stages for relief. Infinite smell of Autumn decay? Tumbling leaves in dull, damp, dying day....

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I have a frightening mental block, Poetic reserves lost, no stock, My mood is down and damp, My hand has constant cramp, Imagination not worth a dime, Brain all mushy, turned to slime, Fantasy faded oh dear oh dear, Inspiration none, it’s gone I fear, Funny, horror, politics, history or love, Blankly, see grey cloudy skies above, My thoughts are less than dazzling, Stop me, for...

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November Intrigue--Five Haikus Moss breathes dampness, near shifting blankets of old leaves. Beds of lichen thrive. Both pure and pungent, the air is soul-enhancing, gifting faint wood smoke. On the forest floor, Princess Pine grows sweetly in pristine patches. Old stone foundations and a gurgling waterfall capture heavy mist. Dark reeds cross the marsh to a long strand of young spruce, vivid and spritely....

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Walked a wooded trail, suddenly unsure of my surroundings, wondered had I'd become lost.. only a moment disconcerted, as dusk grew nearer. I went over an old river crossed by an even older bridge, there not seen and yet to see a small child oddity. for no town or village folk walked alone on so cold a...

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On rain drenched mornings words may feel too heavy to absorb dense Truth, May smell too bleached to taste thin Beauty, May sound too restrictive to recreate revolutionary visions. Yet, absence of words may sound too drenched in universal drizzle to comfort, to circulate lively blood for warm interior climate cleansing Rain water distilling tomorrow's more fertile silent soil silk skinned soul....

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In the fog, odyssey A cheerful adventurer Free to be In dampish autumn weather Hikes into the hills Awesome and deep Watching the leafage sweep Whilst song birds spill Into the alone to peep The only other sound --the break Of distant waves and warblers awake The air is raw, with a cold whisper Many miles to go before any sleep When sweet dreams come...

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