Short Lamentation Poems
Short Lamentation Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Lamentation by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Lamentation by length and keyword.
Grief makes the sea turn
Red and it seems we're lost in
Indigo night, yet
Even death can't break our hearts
For love preserves our union
Absent minds are proved by empty talk
We are sorry but it doesn’t help us
Empty hearts seem to be among folks
We can cry but it doesn’t save us
Till the other day
As it seems rhododendrons
Walked with me, alas
Now superannuated
stupidity after rhymes
___________________________________
29/9/2016
Oh, come now sweet rain
And mingle with my last tear
For I am tired
The rose has dropped its petals
There is nothing left but thorns
9/30/16
Wilful wounding
by shrouded diktat
caging vision
in scarlet pangs.
Numb to lamentation
silver and gold chink.
Amid the rustle
of lamé gowns
silence is nailed
secure.
Able bodied children dead!
Even fate grieves hopelessly
In justified keening, lamentation, mourning.
Not one pacifier!
Queens royally sejant...
Troops under vultures' wings,
Xylophones yack zealously...
The seashore holds me in grief
entwined with moss and nettle;
while thud of echoes returns
more shrill than a gull's lament...
In decibels of love passing
I hunger for night's soft caress.
Your branches like arms
you suck me
growth in my breast
Your roots merge in vanes
your hair blows with winds
and play in my laps
You beat me when you get hurt
I fell into lamentation
And I think of you my baby
.
Oleaginous material, produces threnody in waterfowl.
Their dirge_a lamentation reaches up to the third heaven__God.
And all the women wore antimony on their eyelids to view..
Chelated Souls’ De-lamentation
Lovers dejected
lick wounds remonstrate lonely
sorrow ‘til they meet
mate seduce in sex love rock
roll in minds soul mingled hay
26th September 2016
Contest Lament A Tanka
Syllable 5 7 5 7 7 =31
bemoaning I drown
ebony triumphs your gold-
such a strong soul, yet
weakened by lamentation-
the taste of salt still l i n g e r s…
Lament Contest
Sponsor: Rick Parise
Date Written: September 25, 2016
Put on a good show
For the people in the front row
Can’t express your true feelings
With a sack on your head
The living dead
On the ground kneeling
Your hands tied
Behind your back
On a one-way ride
On a one-way track
Conceal the lamentation
It’s all in the presentation
Desires gain traction, as we choose
Dream crystallisation
There then thus being no excuse
For fate lamentation
Be still lama, choose joy
Devoid of ego ploy
Reclaim bliss; be not coy
Law of attraction
Desires gain traction
20-November-2021
Quietus
This white paper screams at me
And I yell back
The more I sit here staring at it
The worse it gets
Where did my muse go to today
Down the drain?
I think I need some inspiration
For this is nothing
Not a poem, not a story, just a
pathetic lamentation
See you tomorrow ;)
LAMENTATION(A Quintain)
When my memory goes to work,I feel lost and down,
For oppression and poverty which many result to fate,
In abundance,few usurp power and so many suffer these I frown,
Corruption,theft,moral decadence multiply at a faster rate,
Oh!Mother nature,Good and bad;how can both mate?
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Ending the life of the innocents
Both sexes and ages you destroy, to
Offer widows and inconsolable orphans;
Lamentation and mourning to my motherland
Africa
Read more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/member_area/submit_poems.asp
september laments
while the passages of time ~
end her fashion show
autumn's falling leaves
where trees stand stark sentinel ~
skylines silhouette
natures saving grace
leaves silently lie in state ~
richly turn to dust
9/ 26/ 2024
Silence shrouds the sound of his emotions
They shout so loud, yet you hear nothing.
Not because they lost their voice, but because
Of the loudness of the silence.
His lamentation searches for a way,
For a way to something; to someone?
Silence is now against him, not for him
Such power in nothingness, in 'the mute'.
Most if not always
my consequences rest
in lamentation of spirit.
End if not means,
that crime is a call break
of thought bearing geniuses
I guess, if not pretention
That I am a man.
That everything I bare is an ordeal.
And every ordeal is quite alarming,
Wither we may loss or won,
Is a drawback in His time.
If not the clipper in the Saharan grasslands
Then brother be the zipper to fasten the ethos
Afrika mourns of today. Lamentation the dry
Ingredient to our sorrows that craft dispare.
Look at how they fattens alike baobab fat yet
I'm proudly a street hustler, bustling trickster
Thins a biltong shred in toils for sustainance...
When they took him there
did you hear what they did?
Was there call or grunt?
Laugh or scream?
Joy or lamentation?
We perform the strangest or most grotesque
of auditory communications.
Such a mixed bag, such a miscellany!
Torture or tickle? Titillation or skin sensation?
Can we choose to hear pain or pleasure?
(13 Feb 2023)
The moon had risen its light
Into my bosom taking a flight.
Lofted from pedestal, arise
from this life's caprice
so delight
still but cries.
Life's mortality lowed, renounce
Its memories; never pronounce
The blades, the grass forbade.
Yet the cup of mad,
the death, announce:
Love is bad.
If you yourself, befall;
Then you yourself, a fool.
Form:
In the depths of some divine despair,
the wind stirs softly.
With a prayer from her soul’s deep core –
a plea in awful repose…
A melancholy crack in the smile she wears,
with mildly stern eyes in command;
and silent lips of a paler-hue:
remain filled with lamentation.
The Bramble rose
wears a thin veil
to cover cool radiance in glorious eyes:
virtually perfect…
Butterflies are my life and my profession,
yet I face my fixation question.
My study of pheromones
left you on your own.
This made you
moan
for one who
worshipped you alone
and might my neglect atone
To which I offer my confession
butterflies are my life and my profession.
Form - Andaree https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/tag/11-lines/
The Pistol of the Priest
When the world resurrected
from a hanging hole between the thighs.
The body brought out with all his animals ,
The priest brought out ,
carrying a pistol,
surrounded by the corpses of the roses,
and the lamentation of the angels .
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A poem by : Khaled Kheshan (Iraqi Poet)
Translated by : Laith Seher