Short Mournfully Poems
Short Mournfully Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Mournfully by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Mournfully by length and keyword.
An outcast this night,
I mournfully sigh with gloom:
but, I make war, fight!
to defeat my rising doom,
and defend my haunted tomb.
A POEM FOR YOU
Unable am I
A poem for you to write my love
For
The wealth of words mournfully pales
Before
The treasure of your unrivaled beauty!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
29 OCTOBER 2013
A whisper in the dead of night softly caresses my ear.
An arm gently wraps about my waist and takes away my fear.
A kiss firmly planted on my hand remembers our passion.
A tear calls mournfully to bring you home again.
On moss covered log I sit to rest; a yellow robin shows no fear,
there's continual rippling water, a ground thrush feeding near.
Maidenhair droops down the weathered bank; a currawong mournfully cries …
for this one afternoon I feel - I'm lost in paradise.
Shadows changing shapes flow
Creating mysterious notes,very low
And when to fade begins the light
No one knows what hides the night.
Rising phantoms, fidgety souls
Darkness dances fast,takes its toll.
Seagull squabbles, soaring high in the sky.
As the moon mournfully plays hide'n seek too!
If one day,
dry the sea of poetry,
I promptly wept tears
poetic, liquid words
in tears and elegy...
Tears that gently
will provide the poetic river flow
from my life...
will mournfully refill
the sea of poetry... !
Funereal sky, bloated river; stifling.
Lost sheep mar near fields, bleating mournfully.
Weighs heavily, this filial duty.
Frankly suffocating. Gather her up.
Dead crow, flat, gross underneath. Spit at it.
Must make ado; toss the ashes and go.
Her porch light was on the night Jesus came.
And now there's no one here to bring me home.
A blowing season moans mournfully
rising with fearful anger
and singing determinedly in passion.
Chilling the air around me
makes way for natures winter slumber.
Winters sun disappears
in shades of violet,
this season grows with anger.
A wintry wind now sings in blue layers,
stars twinkle through the darkness
and nature displays her glory.
~Winter~
(Haiku suite)
Winters approaching
autumn mournfully whispers
leaves on ground whither
Squirrels run, stock food
the trees starting to get bared
weather gets more cold
Snow will be falling
kids will make snowmen, snowballs
time to wear a coat.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2010
November.15.2015
cloaked in a cover of kindness, my kindred conceals
conniving, colluding: their kiting of attacks
armored afar, yet still arduous against the arbiter
artful at-large he is, with his argumentative farce
mounting malice upon the mournfully mild or mundane,
masquerading as the meek and the moral
trust in the avenging nimbus, avowing its subsistence
my turn will come
Love spills its final drop as I gasp for another breath
From this mortal wound, my afflicted soul is bereaving
I've one last poem to pen, in refrain before my death
about the broken part of me, still mournfully grieving
October 4th 2020
Rithimus Divisa 8 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Gregory Barden
A verse from 'Mournfully, My Heart Bleeds' ~ 9/22/20
14/03/22
A little boy sat all alone
Beneath a dying throttler tree
Through which’s branches, bare and cold
The wind cavorted mournfully.
Upon his lap was lain a bract
The final of a lost array
With which he tied a dismal knot,
Kissed once, then twice, then tossed away
Cruelly on shone bright the moon,
As the boy in silence wept
And with the swift-departing tree
He slowly
slowly
slowly
Slept.
I am a willow tree, sturdy and proud
I bow to the sun and I welcome the crowd
An enchanting mystic, to wallow in shade
My resilience astounding, unwilling to fade
I cry in the West, mournfully blue
Bringing life in the East with a positive hue
Adapting through time, I offer a portal
To a life just like mine, eternal immortal
When asked what I am, I declare very loud
That I am a willow tree, sturdy and proud
~Winter~
(Haiku suite)
Winters approaching
autumn mournfully whispers
leaves on ground whither
Squirrels run, stock food
the trees starting to get bared
weather gets more cold
Snow will be falling
kids will make snowmen, snowballs
time to wear a coat.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2010
October.24.2016
~ Author's Notes:
The Haiku is a Japanese poetry form or style.
The day was dark
The fires cold
No shred of joy
Could e're be found
No song of lark
Nor tales of old
Not a single
Cheerful sound
A sudden cry
Stricken, grieving,
Sharply pierced
The misty air
Then in reply
Sick with feeling
More voices wail
Songs of despair
The sound heightened
'Till all did hear
Mournfully ringing
O'er creek and hill
None could lighten
The hopeless fear
War was coming
The day darkened still
A miasma, death throes, rot,
Dark, cloudy minds, depriver.
Unseen foe, a viral bot,
Life taker, a death harbinger.
Uncontrollable spasms,
Unimaginable fears.
Unstoppable phantasms,
Hunting all of our dears.
So small it is, so deadly,
Invisible, a murderer.
Mankind wails so mournfully,
a small, sinister curdler?
On this terrestrial spaceship,
We dare to stand together.
And push this nefarious blip,
Extinct once and for ever.
Nose pressed against glass, breathing fog onto the already hazy window,
A boy peered out.
He saw not the dreary buildings sat mournfully on withered streets,
Nor did he see the sluggish pace of those who bared marks of unfulfilled dreams.
Light of the Sun reflected in his eyes,
Blinding, protecting him from the world he knew not.
Gifted with the sight of positivity,
He had yet to see the world through anything other than the cloudy window of naivety.
There’s a whisper in the grasses
As the emerald sea divides
Through which my lover passes
To come and join my side
Between the lightning flashes
The summer rains break free
Nourishing the grasses
As your love does to me
There’s a whisper in the grasses
As the narrow path grows wide
That leads to meadows placid
Where I’ll find you by my side
A cold wind stirs the ashes
And the dry reeds mournfully
But silent are the grasses
When you don’t come to me.
The thought doth knock,
On mind’s wooden doors,
Haughty reason roars:
“This is a deadlock!”
Raging reason calls,
Words armed with letters,
With chains and fetters,
To guard the mind’s walls.
Thought’s rosy fingers,
Fondle the mind’s hair,
Reason to despair,
With mind lingers.
The thought then lies,
In mind’s open arms,
Reason without charms,
Thus mournfully sighs.
Thus the battle won,
Thought tamed by words,
Winged lettered birds,
The poem is done!
Form:
The Autumn shades now distant
Skeletal frames silhouette the skies
The last colours of this seasonal carpet
Decaying in drifted lie
As I walk through this land of nature
Amongst ferns, spruce and firs
Sometimes it makes me wonder
Do the remaining mournfully confer
Is it whispers I hear on the breeze
Or the life all around me in appear
For in this broken canopy I feel raindrops
Or are they, evergreens tears
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature-13.php
The dead go down violently, suddenly, silently
Down in the drown of the deep
The born rise up hopefully, suddenly, quietly
Rise from the depths of their sleep
The night will fall dreadfully, suddenly, softly
Fall on the land in a heap
The day shall jump joyfully, suddenly, gently
Jump with a quickening leap
Let the darkness dawn mournfully, suddenly, slowly
Dark on the flood and the seep
For the light shineth endlessly, suddenly, subtly
Bright on the rivers we weep
by Gail