Hollow Poems - Poems about Hollow

Need some inspiration? Title. The Sacred Hollow. (A lone voice whispers) Have you been subtly conditioned to overlook your true potential? Does a voice sometimes whisper? Whether in sleep or in daylight? Open your tired eyes wide and reach for the stars. See how far you can go. Cast off the chains of conditioning That appeared as you grew older....

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Dr. Cain, with his serum so new, Said, "Invisible, what I'm about to do!" He'd vanish and creep, While secrets he'd keep, Then tripped on his slippers, and fell through the stew. ©bfa032125 (Kevin Bacon in Hollow Man)...

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‘All the world ‘s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts.’ (As You Like it Act 2, Scene 7) (A Sonnet Inspired by Shakespeare) The Hollow Stage We slip upon a stage unmade by hands, as viewers' eyes,...

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(The Hollow City Cycle include: The Hollow City I Remember You -- the city speaks Last One Left) No footsteps echo on broken stone, only wind dragging secrets through dust. The city sighs— its breath made of ivy and rust. Windows gape like hollow eyes, watching nothing, remembering everything. A carousel groans beneath twisted vines, still waiting for laughter that will never return. Billboards fade into ghost stories. Sidewalks...

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I held it like a prayer, like something sacred, like something that could save me. I built my world around it, tied my worth to its spine, carved my name into its walls as if that would make me belong. And yet, here I stand, palms open, fingers trembling, watching it slip through— sand through clenched fists, water through cracked earth. I gave it everything. And still, I...

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Hidden In The Hollow Of His Blessed Hand; Never Foe Can Follow ...

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Hollow Room The emptiness of your room full of things is jarring It’s silence so loud you can hear it toys once alive now stoic bedtime stories reduced to ink and paper Stuffed animals only stuffing Ponies and dolls, immovable and muted Games no one wins Unbuildable legos Dress up clothes only fabric Puzzles turned to cardboard Precious Trinkets and keepsakes...

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I can only sit here And cry while I'm alone; I should be holding you Instead of my phone. You told me not to call, That you would call me, And you had things to do, So you were going to be busy. I stare at the phone Until I'm forced to blink; Each second you don't call, The deeper my heart will sink. Day and night...

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Walking home, looking up at the sky, But not keeping my hopes high. The halls that once echoed happiness, Now cry in silence and haunt my nights. Emptiness once felt like a myth, But now my darkest reality. All I do is grieve these days, The pink or green or blue days are now rusty...

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A marionette of the void Aware of the needle like strings, Stranding on the edge of light Yet covered by the veil of hollowness A woeful homunculus, gazing at the abyss...

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In the hollow house there is no love Memories of happier times reverberate Through the somber atmosphere There's no patience. No life. No fun No little footsteps or giggles No whispering shared secrets No singing or dancing No joy This hollow house has a twin It used to be called my heart I step outside the hollow house And don my godly tutu White and pink net...

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Written: January 22, 2025 for contest Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann Quote: “In the dynamic world society which is the objective of the United Nations, all peoples must have equality and equal rights" By Ralph Bunche, ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Seething, scorching snouts...

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Dimensions I see you as you really are a shadow, a ghost. No substance, just an empty shroud. Where did our love go after all of these years? Perhaps you occupy a different dimension. Neither here nor there, in multiple places at once. Schrodinger’s cat has nothing on you. I try to touch you, but my hand returns empty. All of the promises you made are nothing but a hollow...

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I want to belong to a hollow space, Where no one can catch my tiny lace. I want to live on my own, The space is nothing but a trace. I have found my own kingdom, The disheartened enemies have learned some wisdom. I have found my own gallery, Where hollowness is never misery. I want to live every day as if it’s...

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Those church doors, once open wide, are closed. Hinges rusted and ancient thorn bushes, once trimmed, now block entry. Inside, the pews are barren. The pulpit, a dust-covered monument to an age gone by. The stained-glass windows, shattered. No hymns echo through the rafters, no prayers or pleas for forgiveness are whispered in the dark corners. There is no one left to ask for salvation. The people...

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