Short Tenderest Poems
Short Tenderest Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Tenderest by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Tenderest by length and keyword.
As the last
petal
falls
from the stem
of
your beautiful heart,
I will
catch
it
then own
in my hands,
the most
tenderest
part
of your
ALL !
"Towards the nebulous sky, l lifted my inquiring eyes,
Trying God's divine light through the clouds to see.
It was then that I 'heard' the tenderest whisper:
Not to search for it in heaven, but rather within me."
© Demetrios Trifiatis
04 November 2025
Yahoo Mail: Search, Organize, Conquer
AS there is LOVE
even within the Tempest
of Our Minds & Hearts
As there is hope
among the hopeless
even Now. While the gnashing
of painful emotions
eat away the tenderest
feelings ~ there is Love
and there is Hope.
God praise all of Your
Creation even those who
sometimes fall below
divine expectations!
:: 01-21-2017 ::
Fair of face, long of limb.
Broad shoulders, waist trim.
Laugh out loud at my jokes.
Has the tenderest, sensitive stroke.
Likes music, loves to dance.
Not afraid to take a chance
on this broken heart of mine.
I hope then our lives entwine.
Just be gentle with your prize.
I will kiss your sleeping eyes.
Soul searching just for you.
When will one become two?
Many things about you
Make the tenderest
Parts of me sigh
The way your feet
So tiny curl and spoon
Each other when you sleep
Just as they did almost
Four years ago as you
Tossed in my womb
As if when your mind
Is unconscious of the world
It returns to the safest
Place and reminds your
Sweet perfect little body
In it's primal position
To snuggle up in the safety
Of the one who made you
Sweet virgin, with the tenderest eyes,
We will burn together at the stake.
For all the dreams we tried to douse,
That have kept us both awake.
For I fell into your temptress arms,
Like a child falls into a well.
Like angels fall from the sky,
Like the innocent fall into hell.
Sweet virgin, with the tenderest lips,
And a smile that careens my soul.
We stand together before the crowd,
In a flame that swallows us whole.
From his voice springs the tenderest sound of lute
There is not a moment
mute
In the company of my little cherubim
Oh how I love him, how I love him!
Dissonance played in my core.
Before his birth
My first born.
Our pride and Joy.
The cold of winter is all but gone, gone, gone!
Even your sulkiness embalms my soul.
You and your sister bring the most
Joy joy joy!
To our household.
* to my little boy
Oh Angels, keep us under your wings!
With tender words and kindness for all human beings.
Please keep us all in the House of Hope.
Oh Angels, keep us under your wings!
Tenderest hands to both help and to heal,
The damage done to others is painful and surreal!
Oh Angels, keep us under your wings!
With soft words and kindness for all human beings.
September 1, 2020
1pm PST
This rose stands alone
In the garden
Like a ballerina waiting on cue
For the sun to rise
So she may dance and sing and bloom
In full glory
Her blossom fully exposed
Her shyness hidden underneath
Her season is short
She will soon weep with early morning dew
As her petals fade away
So tender
Her desire only to please
The garden will sorely miss this tender heart
The gardener even more
Note: Inspired by Cherl Dunns poem of similar title.
In a pinch of the slenderest fingers
like tapioca beads to the wind
the mercury fog is popped.
Wild silver happenstance rains down
and settles quiet. Quiet.
Had my pale head touched the earth
at the moment of it's impact
I would have drowned in the mist.
With slender fingers turned to roots,
hair to moss, blood to sap,
a papier-mache skin to the earth's skeleton
To be popped, by the tenderest finger's of soil embrace
drawn to the sky like tapioca beads to the wind.
Whenever I see someone
Sprawled on a bench,
Exposed to the elements,
Hands in a clench,
I wonder if long ago,
Curled in his crib
Or perched in his high chair,
With drips on his bib,
A mom or a dad,
With the tenderest gaze,
Saw their hopes for their son
Mapped in various ways.
They certainly never
Imagined him stuck
On a bench in a city park,
Down on his luck.
Few passersby stop,
(And yes, that includes me)
Rarely thinking about
How such things come to be.