Hanged Poems - Poems about Hanged

A sand weight walking in a noon Slumber stutter and sun moon fiasco Lit morning and walking in shrill Not many come keeping away the judge As finally roaming as a sand world casted The REM moods of inside mettle And the sandman scoops for noontime Abreast be less full of oneself Hushing those whispers by a bent elbow brush The trees escaping into...

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Listen my children and ye shall hear, A tale to make ye quake with fear. 'Tis a scarey tale I tell ye no lie, Of a man who was told he had to die, For a crime he committed in the dead of night, And each Hallows Eve he returns to the site, Where his body was hung on an old...

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Let voted houses remain hung And horse-trading go on unsung, Let picture frames on walls get hung, But men need never once be hung. Call it an edict of a tongue, Linguists' belief and devout faith, Man should only be hanged till death. Whilst garments in their wardrobe house Upon their own hangers are hung, All aircraft in hangars are housed; If at all...

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And if the winter comes It will come too soon for autumn But a branch shall be the angel’s arm To raise me from the bottom; I shall not sink into the snow Nor feel the winter’s dark white breath For here my eyes shall always open To the sun; it, to my death....

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Aye, to adjoin The Hanged Man suspended from his mundane world traveling a paradox journey lost in a timeless underworld. I see you, Hanged Man with your hands tucked away your eyes ever so peaceful watching fate make way. I hear you, Hanged Man as you silently speak "You must sacrifice for the greater good" -but do so quietly. I feel you, Hanged Man like the passionate red...

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There was a virile wallpaper hanger called Brunn Who did his best to make every job well done. His fame spread far and near. And clients were heard to cheer “Hire Brunn if you want something well hung.”...

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The hanged man sings The song, now over Once, sounds of jubilee Ends, a song of goodbyes Words, lost on deaf ears for the most Goodbyes come too late for him Shall hanged man sing again? Or shall his music die?...

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Four winds whisper; tricky crossroads. Consider gingerly, with the patience of Jobe and care of the surgeon's scalpel. A rocky path, or dead end road entices same as smooth. One will be lit by truths. Arlene Smith 01/23/15 Contest: Tarot Cards Sponsor: Nette Onclaud No. Four: The hanged man...

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Hanged man leaving time now to yesterday A dimmed light a black in the windows bay No children in garden or Christmas lights next year Going on to death so leaves us bringing up the rear Inspired perhaps by strange hanging fruit in the trees Nuances rope chosen long ago a freedom the breeze God bless go young man on to...

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CEZANNE STUDY – The House of the Hanged Man Late Autumn Buried in a hill, Steep as descent from humanity, A country house stands. It’s late autumn, Deep, sick autumn – Deep as the plunging cellar door, And fronting, its branches stripped, begging skyward, This raped tree Which no longer hides the window – The window, like a large, trumpeting mouth. *No E flat clarinet here, *No Eulenspiegel,...

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Listen my children and ye shall hear, A tale to make ye quake with fear. 'Tis a scarey tale I tell ye no lie, Of a man who was told he had to die, For a crime he committed in the dead of night, And on each Hallow's Eve he returns to the site, Where his body was hung on an...

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Abandoned house isolated with cracked walls Aberration emerging forth from the natural terrain Red and black roofs of the village nearby almost seeming a beacon of civilisation The wood boarded lower rotting windows and barred doors Faded moth eaten curtains a cynical beauty of zephyred gossamer The time long years doing their gentle but remorseless work Inside the house light...

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