Short Wail Poems
Short Wail Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Wail by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Wail by length and keyword.
raped, abused at six
a brutal life in sex trade
she now in Wail Street
It is All Hallows Eve
The night of all souls
Samhain Day
When the wiccans wail
At the witching hour
When the Demons walk
Souls will be taken
In the black of night
Form:
A man knotted at tail of misery,
Dragged around till by a Moses set free.
Now with his lip manage his society.
Josh Berry. Ancestral Pen. Ancestral Form. Whirling Wail
Form:
Wind wails the egress of a soul that departed to the unseen world and for a body that lies six feet under the ground until someday reunite with the loved ones in paradise or hades.
2-22-2016
moaning melody bruised
reeling rusty cruise
dark dribbles drooled
felon fate fumed
hankering hoisted licked
voluptuous flames flipped
punctured palm pricked
callous consciousness clipped
sassy stripes stripped
bounty flesh fostered
taunted tune triggered
eerie emotions filtered
bounty beats birthed
wanky wail flirted
'20:04:18:11:21
Note: Of drooling drums.
a poem about this
a poem about that
a poem with a bit of gunfire,
rat-a-tat-tat
they have their own minds
throw themselves down on a page
I don’t dare to stop them
I’ve reached a seasoned age
Who am I channeling?
It certainly cannot be Plath or Poe
My stuff is upbeat,
I do not do depression or woe
My muse is in charge
Trixie is her given name
She’s persistent and relentless
A do-something dame
The other day
I lay for an echo of my heart
The technician scanned my chest and sides
I could hear my heart pant aloud
Oh boy! Was that a chugging train,
a distant wail, water gurgling,
or a rhythmic rub inside an empty tub?
The guy sure was at frantic speed
wailing all the while
Thank the Lord
He has made sure
we never hear
the perturbations
of this friend of ours
labouring inside each of us
all twenty-four hours
A young girl, aged no more than ten,
recently orphaned in an unjust war,
on tiptoe, reaching up to a crevice
to tuck in her crumbled prayer.
She had been taught that God by any name,
Allah or Elohim, would answer all prayers.
Hoping that God’s heavenly scales
would favour her unselfish plea
against those that may wish her kind ill,
she reached the crevice and tucked in her prayer.
No one noticed her hijab slip or heard the wall wail.
Listen to poem:
Amazing grace
Let the bagpipes play
While in blissful peace I lay
Beneath rolls of morning mist
Let bagpipes whine and wail
At the portal of my heart
Tugging at the gateway of my soul
Releasing timeless ageless tears
In supernal universal rhythm
As generations of kindred spirits
Swirl above the eerie misty morn
AP: Honorable Mention 2025, Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on June 4, 2019 for contest YOUR CHOICE sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - HONORABLE MENTION
The wound becomes inward like the pink moon
after a little rain. It glows and then becomes
red as the blood and the wool of the wail
dangling white like a sheep in the wind.
And this thorn that now curves in your breast;
you will not bring to the garden
nor to the throned light.
It lies at your breast as a bone of some lost horse.
It will not bring Light to the growing mooring-post.
Nor will it exalt in any way the twining winds that move
in the night.
:: 10.31.2022 ::