Qualms Poems - Poems about Qualms

Qualms, I've had too few to admit to you. Scruples quadrupled, I've had some doubts as well. Leaving me squeamish, uneasy, unwell. I fear my regrets will breed and accrue. Like palms, qualms are arrayed with spiral heads. Their tough, frilly spiky fronds need tuning. And rough scruples, misgivings need pruning, As the spikes can get in your eyes and beds. When qualms...

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Any qualms, quaking aspen In shading a graveyard? "No; not when, worn and wrinkly My own pride discard!"...

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"The wind is the pounding of my heart." My scruples join the wind which hammering hard can cause my pulse to race in constant onslaught against the gales of greed and pride caught off guard. My buckler, the Spirit, prods with pause for thought. Foreknowledge of pending storms illumines doubt preparing a path where my heart figures out that I can add...

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“… Progress toward retrogression…” yes, I questioned diagnosis with mixed emotions as fear swelled over courage, striving to prevail yet, faith in God* surmounted my motherly qualms. Now, our special child in his wheel chair zooms toward progress singing praises to the Lord in sign language blissfully. *Mark 11:22 And Jesus answering saith unto them, Have faith in God. February 20,...

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Flaws and foibles, dents and blots, all viewed as quirky, cute and nice, are mere trifles, that makes us lovable. How quickly the tide can change, when sensibilities, foil those foibles into scruples, qualms, faults and vice, up-welling into wellsprings of misery and strife....

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I have rights, but oft times A chosen wrongs That gives me burns I have weights that I can't lift Up in arms, needless worries Timid and bold This story told I 've chosen wrong... Qualms 11/7/09 by James Edward Lee Sr....

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This life has an ease Concrete and steal To build us homes Can we just stop The qualms...

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Love has no boundaries; only detours. Feelings aren’t lost; they wander away. Smiles don’t disappear; they’re robbed. Bodies have no soul; just a beating heart. Where has love gone? Why let feelings roam? When were smiles stolen? How fast beats the heart? Roads have no ends; only boundaries. Books get lost; they don’t wander away Shadows don’t get robbed; they disappear....

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He resumed walking with the sun propelled in river of fire of blunt red and striking yellow to resonate with the pain of her, who sleeps on the thighs of a temple tree. The vibrations still follow the echo of forgiveness, a shadow of palm rises on white wounds. The snoring of blood letting winds break the bones crisply, on the jealous...

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He resumed walking with the sun propelled in river of fire of blunt red and striking yellow to resonate with the pain of her, who sleeps on the thighs of a temple tree. The vibrations still follow the echo of forgiveness, a shadow of palm rises on white wounds. The snoring of blood letting winds break the bones crisply, on the jealous...

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I. Sonnet CCLXXVII With rise and fall for seeking the unrest, and from a thunder's rise the torment sung it navigated sternly by request, the heavens opened wide, the rains begun. Splattering brought within it, tiny streams, all paths defined the worst reflecting urge enough to shelter high into one's dreams yet low enough to carry on this purge. We drown beneath the...

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