Ebbing Poems - Poems about Ebbing

I will collaborate with the sea to find a love Summer took from me. I believed it a love that would last. At season's end, it became the past. Moments we spent are now fantasy. Our love even oceans cannot see. Like ebbing waves, I falter in pain, loving, losing over once again. March 23, 2023...

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My ebbing physical prowess and strength noticeably decreases in one direction. I take lock, stock and barrel to revisit good ole days of yore quite conscious undeclared state of war prevails within body electric of troubadour now seated at his Macbook Pro another reasonably rhyming poem I hope to score signalled by satisfaction qua eye of the tiger doth unknowingly make Katy...

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analogous to expending precious Air Supply embellishing, modifying, revising, et cetera a poem crafted about fourteen months ago. I take stock and revisit good ole days of yore quite conscious undeclared state of war prevails within body (Electric Light Orchestra) of troubadour, whereby creative juices did perforce pour forth as if sung by one man koor; now he haply seated at his Macbook...

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At long last... Beatle browed Beastie Boys attained Nirvana routing hellish existential crisis courtesy Earth, Wind And Fire rendered null and void celibate Journey knight in shining armor forever staind and tarnished compliments verboten extramarital whoopie. Herewith I forthwith take poetic license linkedin to long line of Mamas and the Papas whose music died when Passenger(s) violently perished courtesy flaming inferno analogous to Le(a)d Zeppelin 129 christened Hindenburg. Along...

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I take stock and revisit good ole days of yore quite conscious undeclared state of war prevails within body electric of troubadour now seated at his Macbook Pro today February 20, 2021. Since January thirteenth of this year (two thousand and twenty one), yours truly suddenly feels long in the tooth, i.e. auld, he whose decrepit body and gnarled hands ice cold rigor mortis virtuous vice...

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M-orbid I-nfection's C-ontagion H-orribly E-mploys L-ethal L-ink E-bbing P-opulation U-ntil L-iving I-ndividuals D-ecrease O-nerously Topic: Birthday of Michelle E. Pulido (June 21) Form: Vertical Monocrostic...

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Kohl is nightfall when bright hours decrease Etching the silhouette of trees ; Beneath drooped willows, grief ‘s ache unravels A mourning in fallow shade Twisted as petals, cold: How endings throb again again Without his blossoms for our sky; That gushing out ...

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THE EBBING BOON Evenly a tunnel to be passed. By life Gradually it comes in disguise A merger of wisdom and chestiles. Weakling strength of faded manpower. Dimed eyelashes Frustrated veins flashes At a point the waist is lashed. The vessels fades like water clashes. And like a washer pottery. Beaten by life. Fingerprints of struggle Would show all over Like Google And now, some monks Some sages,one would not...

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I have eyes in my sockets that cannot see, And a heart in my breast whose taut is wrinkled and chords are soundless. From my day, I have seen what I have seen I have heard what I have heard And I have touched what I have touched. The tides have finally tossed me to the horizon, I have felt all...

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back and forth, boxsliding. tossing and turning on the ocean waves; the rush of ebbing tides moving, similar to the unsaved lives of our days, mixture of emotions gathering, trying not to get sucked in the undertow, our own deception that doesn't flow. trembling in the fear of it's coolness, the depths so limitless. it's force unmeasurable, only fit for the able. it's nature can not...

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I think of him when ebbing of the tide But not really him but what I thought was Him, I was in love with love now wave ride Waiting for tide's return bringing love as 'twas Love is gone on the waning of the moon The marsh is bone dry not even trickle No boats can leave docks, with nature...

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Acceptance of one's life ebbing Slowing to a halt grinding still Let not life ebb but end running Acceptance of one's life ebbing Not drip drop_pitter pat but rushing forward with force; carving through hills Acceptance of one's life ebbing Slowly to a halt grinding still In honor of Brian Strand. Contest:Any Verse.. Looked up verse.. Triolet is considered verse *Note Click on"About This Poem"...

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