Short Fainter Poems
Short Fainter Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Fainter by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Fainter by length and keyword.
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PAINTER
What on day trekkers looms
Up, foggier
Should no less dispirit
Pal, what, fainter
Ahead, life-journeying
Descends into.
Your home, does it not lie
There, beyond, too?
That wall, friend, we leapt
Time's, fainter to stray
Naughtiest children bragged of!
Home; furthest away!
"Nothing of danger
Its hair-raising threat
But is, if stealthy and slow
With full consent met."
Have you ever heard the Eagles
lonesome cry
as we encroach deeper into his domain
the fainter his cry becomes
Until one day, the only cries that will
be heard
are our lonesome cries of
where has all the Eagles gone!
Afloat, presently
This bed o'er.
In darkness, starry swirled
This bedroom.
Mouthed mirthful music
Heard, fainter
In trying to catch up
To match it
With that, faced me, day-lit
Earth, below.
Til dear, angel-sourced for
You know whom!
You’ll eat anything:
the closer to death the better.
I think you prefer me half dead:
the fainter my pulse,
the tastier I am.
But I won’t let you gorge
on my thin bones anymore;
these pale remains are mine.
I’ll love, and try to live,
to kill your appetite.
You’ll eat anything:
the closer to death the better.
I think you prefer me half dead:
the fainter my pulse,
the tastier I am.
But I won’t let you gorge
on my thin bones anymore;
these pale remains are mine.
I’ll love, and try to live,
and kill your appetite.
Contd
With time I could feel
My blood getting fainter and
The air that I breathe contaminated
With the bogus love of hers
My flesh started to liquefy
Burning away silently with the
Command of her eyes
But at my dismay
She did show me the real “Her”
Form:
Would you stand again
Gathering your strength when
You heard the calling in your head
And evil holds sway instead
Would you make a difference
Gathering things that made sense
When the words spinning around
Grow fainter with every sound.
© Paul Warren Poetry
The full moon rises
to her darkened throne.
Can you hear the night calling
when you’re all alone?
The wind bids you gently,
fainter than a whisper,
to bathe in the moonlight
and drink from The Dipper.
Listen to the music
of the cricket’s call,
as from the trees
the dead leaves fall.
When you hear
the song of night,
come to sing
and shun the light.
Listen to poem:
Dust coats mementos in treasure trove
In a veil that palls recall with a shroud.
It dims the past with repast of neglect,
That taints memories with fading, settling light.
Echoes become fainter, scenes blur,
The sharp clear focus softens in the listless mist
As dust pervades relentless, unstoppable
It quickens the quell that time tells
Neglected memories to fade, be lost and begone.
As summer grieves and bids it must go,
Fall burst forth in magnificent show,
Dressing the trees in crimson hued gowns,
‘Til breezes thieve and take their leaves down,
Lacing tapestries over the ground,
While fainter becomes the robin’s sound,
Waiting for winter to come around,
With a blanket of white, so profound,
That melts away to a spring surround,
Of vibrant colors that now abound!
I speak my thoughts...you do not hear. I reach to touch...you are not near.
I matter not to you, nor to any other. I am invisible...you do not see me.
I have no face; I have no substance. I try to speak, there are no words...you took my voice! So, now I huddle, fetal form. I strain to hear the dullness of my heart as its beat slows and fainter gets. Now even I can no longer see a speck, a shadow left of me. I am void.
Brad is admin of the Writers' Group on Facebook...
A kindly sword and savage pen
Are the marks of a writer and leader of men
Blessed be he who came to teach
The wildness of wisdom and freedom of speech
Where fainter hearts might fall and fail
He stands to serve the Writer’s Grail
This ancient sage; this humble youth
This herder of cats; this teller of truth
Is he we know and love as Brad
Our literary Galahad
by Gail
DAUBLIN THE PAINTER
Daublin the painter was a professional fainter
Got a contract from the Queen of Poro to paint her
He daubed her face with green
And preened her dog-ears clean
And swooned over her bosom- what a skillful fainter!
(c) Copyright: Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty
13th October,2014
The smile on my face,
That makes me tremble
Do I own them?
My love turned out to be as thin as a paper,
torn into pieces, and became fainter.
The drastic change it brought,
broke something inside my vault
without any noise...ssshhh
You awakened this heart,
and later dismantled the emotions
leaving it dislodged.
The broken fantasies,
that keeps digging cavities
destroys my vanity.
Walking those forbidden paths
that haunts me from time to time
why can't you just stay benign ?