Hangs Poems | Examples

My heart still hangs in my mouth

its whimper sounds like a whisper, it slips as it slithers away
the loud fear it left on my mind still spins my spine
i run, forgetting my heart is still hanging in my mouth~
it pounds like a tornado blowing through my veins
the ricochets of its anger shudder even my tiniest nerves
our nights and days will never cross paths again.

What hangs in the balance

A moon hanging low amidst the glitter of stars,
my heart's aflutter with dire anticipation.
Together we cast golden coins in a fountain,
the darkness of the night oozing with mystery.

My heart's aflutter with dire anticipation,
the unmistakable scent of love fills the air.
Always the thought of you occupying my mind
till I summon your familiar voice in the night.

Together we cast golden coins in a fountain.
What follows is a future completely unknown
fraught with questions and answers that put us on edge,
and beyond the horizon no news, not a glimpse.

The darkness of the night oozing with mystery,
wishing for the best we will not settle for less.
We hope and we pray as we offer our plans to
a moon hanging low amidst the glitter of stars.



(this form is called Retourne)

AP: 3rd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2025, Honorable Mention 2025

November Hangs On

November hangs on
To a blanket made of cold and grey
To the bare branches of trees clinging to the sky for the last precious moments of warm sunlight 
Counting every minute of the shortened days
November hangs on
To being surrounded by memories on its long dark nights 
The way our empty hands grasp on to the comfort of our covers
November hangs on to every word uttered from a lovers lips
Something to shake off the frost on our hearts when facing late Autumn's changing winds
November hangs on through every crowded street and storefront decorated with glee
Tis the happiest time for some but the loneliest time for many

Tomorrow hangs with bated breath

I fear the morrow -
caged by past, I rip apart;
yet today's growth blossoms.

Winter, and All Hangs by a Thread

Black thorns amid snatching twigs
form sky-torn nests,
where deep red berries
hang from dark bones.

Autumn tracks have settled
into annealed ruts,
those static waves of the fridged
and fallow fields.

There are still small birds singing
in the shredded shapes of the wind,
scattered voices that rebound
from ear to ear.

We are huddled, yet solitary,
separated by inward distances.
Farms are folding shadows,
gathering-in
the years thin linins.

Beneath the chilled earth
a behemoth stir's,
a beast of steam and vapor
arising slowly
until its face can be seen
through the melting ice,

but not yet.

The Land Question Hangs

In a world where the land question hangs,
 A plight unseen by the oblivious eye, 
Lies the essence of fairness, as it clangs, 
Echoes of justice, as time passes by.

For land holds power, both concrete and vast,
 It shapes the destiny of those who dwell, 
A struggle unfolds, present and past, 
A battle fought through corridors as well.

Some claim the soil as their birthright divine,
 While others yearn for a piece of their own, 
Inequities persist, an ancient sign, 
As hearts cry out, their voices set to moan.

But let us seek a just and common ground, 
Where dreams of home can finally be found.

Cat Hangs Around

Where did Ms. Cat go?
Just hanging around.
Snicker. Snicker.
Is this a cryptic message or what?

I ask another neighbor.
Sure, she is hanging around, he says.
Then he laughs.
I finally find her tangled in the window blinds.

Funny! I tell the others.
And really kind of you to help her down.
It actually takes three of us.
Two have to hold the blinds still while she escapes.

Life Hangs By a Thread

Improper placement of a soup spoon
  topples a marriage gone wrong

Recalling your voice in a war zone
  keeps my heart beating strong

A Cowboy Hangs 'Em Up

Hung up my saddle and its reins
Now I'll count the losses and gains
My reputation's got some stains
I've still got Texas in my veins
 
I got old with some aches and pains
My knees creak whenever it rains
I know horses from tails to manes
I know each brand upon the plains
 
I know nothin' of Jills and Janes
It seems too much for one man's brains
Don't mean to be one who complains
Wish I'd married and wore the chains
 
Now my life's goin' down the drains
Thinkin' on it gives me the strains
But honky-tonks still play refrains
They still make whisky from the grains
 
 
11-13-20

A Cowboy Hangs Up His Spurs

I used to ride from dark to dark
For wages that were thin
Then saunter up to Shorty's bar
And he'd say."Where you been?"

I'd drink a lot and tell some lies
'Til I got drunk of course
When I ran out of cold hard cash
They'd put me on my horse

Then one day my hair turned silver
I lost a step or two
I thought about how much I'd learned
Surprised how much I knew

I hung up my spurs, coiled my rope
Threw my hat in the ring
Got elected to our congress
It was a wondrous thing

I think of Shorty now and then
And I still tell some lies
But I get paid for doin' that -
Nice to be old and wise


6-8-19
Contest:A Contest on Aging
Sponsor:Emile Pinet

Heavy Hangs the Head

I am misunderstood and distracted
I am empty and cold waters
I am frustrated and it shows in my sighs, in my silence, and in my answer to everything
My space is too narrow
My company is too focused
As my words are far too dark for vision
I am a lost thought in love,
Like forever chasing a wind
I am tomorrow’s sunlight beating down like heavy reasons and lies
I am a long story with no point,
And no place to go
I am a wasted note of hope,
With hours of writing on my wall.
I am quiet rain that stains the window with sadness.
I am all the things I shouldn’t be,
With a heavy heart to remind me,
I am without my most precious things

Life's Sweetest Fruit, Hangs Withered On the Vine

~     Passionate, sweet, true ...


                           yet no other,


                 finds this heart ... of worth.     ~

She Hangs From the Beams

She hangs from the beams from way up above, 
Sways not making a sound,
Patiently waits to be noticed by me, 
Patiently waits to be found,

With sun pouring through the hole in the wall, 
Pouring all over her torn,
Her beautifully dark, broken down clothes, 
Her clothes that she had once worn,

And she looks straight ahead, not budging her stare, 
A smile escaping her cage,
A smile that’s not even meant to be seen, 
A smile that hides all her rage,

And I sit, all alone, watching her hang, 
My beautiful obedient slave,
My black and white painting of love on the wall, 
In my studio, my office, my  cave.

Here's the Slogan, Which Hangs Over My Bed

Here's the slogan, which hangs over my bed.
"Intimacy, my friends, do not propose to me.
I hate an intimacy, my preference instead,
The grouping sex, of five, of four or three."

Social Human Life Hangs With Uncertainty

instead of solving problem 
                         we in generally puzzle the problem more
                            so probable solution goes out of hand
                               fighting with the problem gives
                                  more experience for future 
                              to pave along to stronger world 
                        problem continues and will continue forever 
                            individual perfection needs less effort
                             but collective perfection is not easy
                       so until whole perfection along with all is got 
                            social human life hangs in uncertainty

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