March Poems | Examples of March Poetry

March Comes In Like A Lion Dandelion dance in the palm of my hand; a gentle bloom. I love my birthday flower. ...

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I have a heart too warm for a body of snow. My torso went out first— The buttons before my chest dropped into the soil. One by one, they stripped me tenderly. —I feel exposed. My limbs were the next to leave— Technically I only had arms that once traced words in frost. The damp branches—they landed right beside me. I couldn’t reach them, of...

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We're all here on a journey With only one way to go FORWARD That's what I believe Yes we all do different things Choose the streets roads And avenues we take But going FORWARD Is mandatory We make our own decisions in life But that direction won't change I'm just sharing what I see We can resist We...

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"After the March" Almost eight years, the flags have flown, A soldier's wife, yet so alone. Eight years of heartache, silent cries, Of wiping tears and telling lies Like "I'm okay," when I was breaking, Like "We’re fine," though barely making. Stress clung tight like second skin, While I held the outside in. Weight I carried on my soul, Filling both the mom and dad...

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In this country Politicians line their pockets from back-door deals Sports figures kneel with raised fist, and protest our flag Hollywood celebrities exclaim they will leave our country Silicon Valley tramples on free-speech norms Corporate elites rig systems to transfer wealth and live more royally than kings of yore, while Children hunger for food for love for protection from abuse Where are the marchers, the protesters with...

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A mother's love is so deep and real, it never shall fades, She holds her child day and night, no matter what may happen there. She smiles throughout she's crying and hides her miseries with grace, So her dear child perceive only happiness on her face. She spends her time, her care, her touch, She never expects a thing, though...

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As a young child of five, I found myself in dance school. It was a fun place to make new friends, as we learned about dancing. After a year of training, we were ready for our big dance recital. The exciting night finally came, we were dressed in hot pink outfits. Now it was our turn with music playing, we marched out onto...

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A man was marching through his mind. An empty cell to fullfill his time. Long before he traveled lands. He blistered truth with burned up hands. Many miles and waters sailed. Out for nothing and still he failed. A man was marching into space. An endless look expressed his face. This forced impression along the ride. Consumed illusions to take his pride. The need for...

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A man was marching through his mind. An empty cell to fullfill his time. Long before he traveled lands. He blistered truth with burned up hands. Many miles and waters sailed. Out for nothing and still he failed. A man was marching into space. An endless look expressed his face. This forced impression along the ride. Consumed illusions to take his pride. The need for...

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Elusive, quick, a wisp of spectral smoke, you, as a twinge that flickers in the eye, haunt the corners of sight; you mystify perception—such the awe you so evoke. Arcane, abstruse, veiled in a phantom cloak, you, as a fleeting shadow passing by, confuse the intellect; you do defy detection—all instincts you ill provoke. In those moments, when(briefly)you appear as a...

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How do you stitch a shattered soul mirrored in cracked reflections? Friends arrive too late, armed with needles, once the bleeding has stilled, sewing memories into a cloth of loss— stitched of sorrow, wearing grief's heavy gold, as if it were a crown above the stillness of the dead— enthroned in hollow solitude. Thoughts twist like barbed wire, fences no soul dares to...

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Cornichons The Cute Kind Tasse and Gobelet are lovers. Two beautiful peacocks. I made a wager on the horses ,but didn't wanna tell my friends. The woman said. She would listen to Organ music during the day often times she'd sing along with the words to the songs: she had an old book with songs,rhymns and poems in it. She'd get up early in...

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The Sands of Time ...

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tweet tweet cheep cheep cheep birdspeak lights up the meadow marchs melody...

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Dark Sunday nights The month of November Nothing I care to remember ...

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