Short Weakly Poems
Short Weakly Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Weakly by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Weakly by length and keyword.
Ice crystals plummet
Frozen earth covered in silk
Sunlight smiles weakly
Sasha Edl, An Haiku From Your Window
The cereal then gets too soggy,
if you're weakly and your wobbly ~
Your next best guess then ought-a-be
is switch to oatmeal . . . . probably!
anticipating this deluge
I hold weakly to protection
only to find this ray of joy
as sunshine lights the rain
your love blazes through my tears
Life is made,
but it's not toilsome, unless
we perform weakly...
life is fair,
if we offer it fair value...
We serve and we are served,
we live, and we are
lived... !
Like honey, it sticks to me,
numbing my wings,
refusing me the freedom to fly,
or even weakly scatter from you.
This ugly lust resembling love:
it's sticky and sweet,
but there is no
substance
here.
Dawn
Weakly
Tweaks the curve
Its chilly yawn
Turns off the street lights
As darkness returns home
Sparrows sing morning vespers
A coffee scented mist rises
Silently swirling atop the mug
Daybreaks pheromonal invitation
Stepping into the garden,
The wet grass beneath my feet
Everywhere fresh with morning dew
The air honeysuckle sweet
The dew drops glistening,
The sunlight weakly warming
It’s so good to be alive
At the dawn of another morning
Form:
A candle shrinks
‘Neath offered flame;
It weakly casts
Its waning glow
Cross candy hearts,
Bouquet ignored,
And lovers, rejoicing,
Entwined in arms.
January 16, 2017
Love Is In The Air Tonight Poetry Contest
Nayda Ivette Negron, Sponsor
My voice it speaks weakly but my heart is strong
Her voice is tender platinum pure shy and abandoned
She sings like an angel
She has that strong quality of something that cannot be taught
that is unsophisticated and girlishly innocent
free pure and clean
From my porch
Wrap up with extreme-cold weather clothing
The January sun bathes weakly through the early morning grounds
I seek alone by such astonished far-fat mountain-side
When some dared rabbits at burrow doorway gazing
Like a thief at the overheated clouds!
My voice it speaks weakly but my heart is strong
Her voice is tender platinum pure shy and abandoned
you either have it or you don't
She has that strong quality of something that cannot be taught
that is unsophisticated and girlishly innocent
Free pure and clean
I’m not asking for approval,
that belongs to time
The spoken words I cherish most,
to you seem out of rhyme
I’m not asking for acceptance,
my muse rejects your praise
In darker moments light is found
—your comments weakly phrased
(The New Room: December, 2021)
Opal grandmother eyes,
watery milk glass veins
in stick arms
throb weakly,
tense tight white thread
into frayed, thin quilts.
There is a slight rustle
of desperation, a hope
of completion
as smudged pigeons
shatter wind
and winter gives up
its gin clear grace.
How lonely she must be
Her trusted bird forcibly forsakes the warmth of its roost for another
Her beautiful leaves weakly wave goodbye to the reality of their being
Her delicate bark hesitantly hibernates behind an icy embrace to emerge battered
How lonely she must be
SASKATCHEWAN SUMMER EVENING
Porch light spreads weakly out
Into the field and dissipates
In the buzz of grasshoppers.
Starlight and fireflies; crickets chirp.
Hot air shimmers the lights of the far highway.
Grain train pulls out, juddering
And clanging its slow way to speedy freedom.
Fleeing from them
From their gifts
Seeking to escape
From their longing
Looking not on
Their beauty
Fearing my weakness
And my longing
Fearing my hunger
For them
Running from them
Reluctant running
Fleeing weakly
Wanting
Yet still fleeing
Running away
Fleeing
Fleeing
Your dreams unleashed -reality -
for someone else - remain a dream.
A craving caged we cannot see.
Your dreams unleashed -reality.
The dreams of wise, bold souls soar free
while dreams imprisoned weakly gleam.
Your dreams unleashed -reality -
for someone else - remain a dream!
The dawn is down
And the dew is due
So the stage is set
Light rears lavishingly
Beautifully bright
Out of the embryo
Of mother sun
The morning round
In view
In full open
Advances darkness
Sunset destage
Weakly dull
The dawn is up
Dew is spread
The night is gathered
Scenes for men
A drama of life.
The bruised soul in the battered body,
ached for renewal.
Teeth clenched,
little chest shaking,
as heart weakly reaching out.
Energy spent, love torn,
her mind full of doubt.
God's bruised reed,
His smouldering wick.
He will not snuff or break.
Holding hand, kissing cheek.
As in dead of night, her soul He did take.
The bruised soul in the battered body ached for renewal,
Teeth clenched,
little chest shaking,
as heart weakly reaching out.
Energy spent, love torn, her mind full of doubt.
God's bruised reed,
His smouldering wick;
He will not snuff or break.
Holding hand and kissing cheek,
As in dead of night
her soul He did take.
But as we begin
to break down
and burn
We will wistfully
watch and learn
that in this lifeline
you’ll have to
be a
dismally
darkened dove.
Left to let go
of the one
thing you’ve
ever loved.
As you raise
your weakly
whitened
wings to fly
into the
numbing unknown
nature of
the nurturing
night sky.
The clouds hanging low
muffled the maple-covered mountain.
Fog from the saturated earth
weakly, wet the newborn breeze.
Mist maintained the rainy connection
between earth and eternity.
A gray day lay upon
the weary weakened eye of morning.
Soon the breeze blossomed to wind
wiping the cinders from the sun.
For what he weakly fought
Others eagerly sought
And one hurriedly bought,
His dreams ending in naught:
Getting away, never caught
And to him grief brought…
Of course, he can’t go to court:
If he wished drown by a seaport:
The lesson to learn: “Hold your fort…
Just like wild animals – Dangerous
Delay is as murderous…
Warm winds blow away
The last majesty of death.
The world is warmed,
And I can finally catch my breath.
The sun shines weakly
On this lonely patch of ground,
And I can almost hear birds...
What a welcome sound!
The bitter cold is now just a memory
As my wounds begin to heal.
My senses have come back to life,
And I can finally feel.
THE OTHER
Word after word goes searching
And at times usually quiet times
Some incomplete sentence will shed light
This is but a shadow sought from deep within
So weakly surfaced as sun has little presence
A teaser persistent on fire!
Oh I am with me with me
Am the majority of life
Then there is this other
Dave Austin