Long Withering Poems
Long Withering Poems. Below are the most popular long Withering by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Withering poems by poem length and keyword.
You appeared like a cloud
in my sapphire horizons,
and I, a forlorn blossom gazed upward,
adoring your glory from below.
Although you seemed so distant -
my nature felt you so close.
Whenever charcoal shadows
stained the edges of your elements
and your burdens became
too burdensome,
you would release silent rain,
pouring in drops of sorrow, but
with soft yearning, my roots
anchored deeper into to the earth,
as my sepal absorbed all of
your torment.
At twilight you would illuminate
through moonlight, but in the
darkest hours, when storms
consumed the heavens with
loudness and striking light,
you craved for my fragrance
to calm and soothe your soul,
but even the sweetest scents fade,
and every petal learns the
slow death of withering.
Now as you drift away to horizons,
untouched, among unknown
flower gardens,
all that lingers in reflection
is the hush of smoke,
and I ponder,
if my sky will forever
remain cloudless.
leaves are falling in the wind
red-stained
burnt orange and gold
floating down like swirling dancers
blood painted
ghosts of summer
listening, I hear a tear, a cry
in quiet words
the leaves are talking . . .
they whisper sadness at their passing
their withering away
their end and decay
I gather many to my heart
all those fragile colors
they sigh in my hands
don't weep, I will save you
in my diary
I will press you
all the cold winter you will be safe
kept warm . . .
between pages of words
until I open that page and you fall
decayed brown
and brittle you break
apart . . .
_________________________
May 1, 2017
(Edit from September 15, 2016)
Verse/leaves talking
Copyright Protected, ID 925001
Brian Strand
25 lines
Second Place
Once, I grew in a garden,
but, now I am part of a death bouquet;
on top of a coffin in a funeral home,
I suppose it is an honor but I feel doomed.
People passing say we are beautiful roses,
(not for long I am thinking);
then, a fragile, gentle hand touches me,
and pulls me away from the others.
A girl strokes my petals,
and holds me to her cheek;
I feel her tears falling on me like rain,
all day she holds me tightly in her hand;
often kissing my petals.
That night, she places me in a glass vase,
and I hear her weeping in her sleep;
in the morning I am a little droopy,
just a little weak.
I cannot hold my head up,
but she calls me beautiful still;
each day I am fading, withering- dying,
and I know my end is near.
Soon my petals fall, fall, fall
and the girl picks them up- each one;
putting them in a pretty bowl,
and that is how it went- 'till;
more of me became petals,
until there was no flower left.
Yet, the girl still touches my fading petals,
and calls me beautiful though I am decay
I want to tell her that beautiful is not my name,
I whisper to her- my name is love . . .
_____________________
July 7, 2020
Poetry/Personification/Beautiful Rose
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1266-602-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the PREMIER contest, The Flower, The Thorn or Both
sponsor, Chantelle Anne Cooke
First Place
Burnt orange, red, gold in mottled decay,
burgundy and brown hued in every shape,
fallen leaves laying . . . for the wind to sway,
from the trees each leaf has made an escape,
bare branches sigh for their lovely green cape.
Fall has come and erased all summer hues,
the birds- the birds are twittering the blues.
Breezes are full of Fall's withering scent,
and I find my poetic voice- my muse.
The end of this season I will lament_
__________________
October 22, 2022
Poetry/Dizain/Fall's Decay
Copyright Protected, ID 10-1496-249-22
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Theme - Nature - fallen leaves
Written for the Standard contest, Dizain
sponsor, Sotto Poet, Judged 11/05/2022
First Place
I tried to create a poetic dream,
to fulfill our promise,
but we became a victim
to fate's wounding ways.
My flower garden lies in ruins,
suffering in silence -
my lips unable to kiss her back to life.
In the demise of our destiny,
there is no reincarnation.
Hope fades with each withering petal,
perishing to our unfulfilled vow.
Stench of regret pollutes dark, damp air.
Winds wander, weeping woefully,
whispering condolences for our tragedy.
Delicately, as if it was your soul,
I place the last blooming rose,
close to my heart -
hoping, one day,
to reunite it with you.
I can see butterflies,
drowning in puddles of lament -
helpless in this unforeseen storm.
I sense the angst of disorientated bees.
Their queen deprived of nectar,
they pine in distress -
yearning to be close to her.
Sun rises, veiled in a black blanket.
Birds sing songs of sorrow,
soaking in sombre sadness.
A mournful chorus,
which only increases the pain.
Her image reflects through my eyes.
Her voice echoes in my mind.
I crave for darkness, tired of shadows,
look to the heavens....
Wondering why?
In this dead end of dreams,
soul bangs against my chest,
crying like stinging winter rain.
I collect each sacred tear,
to keep our last rose hydrated -
to lay it upon your resting place.
A promise has no guarantee.
A poet's pen cannot create forever...
Third and final part to my 'Promise' trilogy
Simple Musing
Silent One
6 June 2020
In the silent abyss of despair, in solitude I find myself,
Caught in a muted pain, like a stone that was once shield.
Promises of love and time, now just echoes lost in the wind,
I struggle through the ruins of dreams, with a love no longer sacred to me.
Your words, once sweetly honeyed, have become dust in the wasteland,
A withering love leaves behind an incomprehensible void, a belated emptiness.
You say "I like you," not "I love you," there's a clear difference,
But your absence rings louder than any word, it's the bitterest dread.
In the darkest hours, mourning the loss of the love that was,
The love that once shone brightly, now shrouded in an unspoken mystery.
It's a cruel torment, a fight that gives me no peace,
I watch as our love unravels, my heart is torn apart, my life is feigned.
This heartache, an everlasting and pitiless burning,
Once thriving love, now drowning in a downpour of tears, a sharp fate.
In the depths of my soul, I sigh and cry in silence,
For a love lost, for promises unkept, an ephemeral memory.
But if you cannot love me, let me set myself free,
To heal my shattered heart, to find myself within, away from any kingly pain.
In the depth of this suffering, I will find the way to light,
If true love will survive, it will return to me one day, as a divine destiny.
in the autumn breezes silent trees shed their leaves
in shades of vivid yellow, orange, red
purple, brown, and maroon
and the many hues 'tween
they rustle
beneath
the quiet weeping trees
then, fluttering twirl, leap
painted by nature's watercolor brush
divine, sublime are the withering leaves fading away
shortening daylight days, temperatures cooling
and leaves gather in stained-glass heaps
pigments and tints dwindling
fading, fading like an
old vintage
photograph
I love to touch veined leaves
trace those souls dying
that fall apart crumbling away, falling
they are quite dead ... but to me they are still beautiful
The first time I saw you, your beauty captivated my heart,
Yet I didn’t know that things between us would start.
The evening we shared a gaze, I yearned to confess,
As time stood still, for a moment to undress.
The true meaning of our mutual attraction.
Everything seemed so tranquil and right,
When we made love by day, knowing it couldn’t happen at night.
Our second encounter was mind blowing to me,
Your sexy and beautiful that what I see.
I had to, I have to, have you each day,
Or I will be as a flower withering away.
Your are magnificently sumptuous, scrumptious to eat,
With tantalising enticing rhythmic hips that hypnotise to a soothing beat.
The words fail me, what more can I say,
I had to, I have to, have you each day.
© 2000
I hear your silent footsteps coming
give me a gentle kiss on my forehead
Good morning to a new day
One morning surrounded by dreams
The small moment with a new view on life itself
The coffee is almost ready
Night sweetness is purple
with awakening glow
to playful desire and sense
Let your dreams catch your thought among withering rose leaf
Quality of life comes from your own mind
Small moments that make life worth living
28.10.2014
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Here, as I wander
Many roads, many paths
All one shall see
Is I walk alone
She appeared, like a dream
Like the mist of night
Or the fog of morning light
But I swear she was there
I reached to touch
The sweet taste of what was
I longed for the past
Yesterday, when dreams were dreams
I could smell the fragrance
The smell of morning lily’s
One could taste even the air
And feel the suns grasp of the day
Such desires burn deep
Within our souls, should one believe
Or so I have been told
As a withering candle, my desires have faded
Tears, oh the tears have faded
The heart grows, only in the desires for thing past
And yet the heart, sands of time, becomes a desert
The music still plays, and I still walk
alone