Short Willfully Poems
Short Willfully Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Willfully by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Willfully by length and keyword.
Willingly ignorant
Willfully ignorant
Unwillfully inignorant
Unwillfully informed
Not willingly informed
Not willingly inignorant
I grew up too fast
weary walls whisper willfully while withdrawing
Sponsor’s Name: Nette Onclaud
Contest Title: Monoklitteration Poetry Contest
Date of Poem: May 31, 2025
the wavering walls of water willfully weep against the weary watchtower...
March.29.2016
For Contest In one line...write what you SEE or FEEL
By Poet Destroyer A
Willy the wisecracking warlock
was wordy, wild, wonderfully willfully
welcoming, and a wee bit whacky.
Willy widely wasted wonderful witticisms
on Wellington’s willing wealthy.
Silky white, pink-tinted petals pushed by dreaded zephyr
They brush against cheeks; comfort sensually skinned
Delicate, freshly bloomed, fall like widows who have wept
I should too if not for ignorance willfully kept
Welcome Wonderful Whacky Water World of water and fins
Wishing we would wistfully wrestle wobbly west winds
Where warm wiggling worms willfully wax their smiles.
While whooping wolligags wander aimlessly along the miles.
Trump Did Willfully and Knowing
All things Trump did were,
Willfully and knowingly,
Done and committed.
This is what New York State
courts are saying about Trump
campaign and contribution
violations.
Jim Horn
Adrift, adrift (my usual trip)
In icy, unmapped sea,
A splintered spar my only ship—
I clutch it willfully.
Afloat, afloat, each nerve alive,
I brave what is to be,
Instead of cowering, to but survive
On land, secure, not free.
Always, bees compete defensively.
Each flower grows healthily.
Infection junkies kill lustfully.
Managed nuks offer perfect “Queens Royal” –
Sadly, techniques use viruses’
willfully x-terminating young zygotes.
12/28/2016
This weeping willow, will willingly and recklessly wreak havoc on the world we
would see become a wonderful wreckage of wandering wonderlands. We will
willfully wander the wastelands. Woe for those we once knew as wearers of
wrought.
Form:
Darkness falls a
A hush sets in
My animal drive
Promotes sin
Willfully I joined
Your soulless heart
Two creatures we
Tumbled in the dark
Moon a witness
Twinkling stars our show
Ensnared in your arms
To the grass we roll
Whistling whispering warlocked warrior wishing when
wanting whatever won winnings whenever.
While wondering wandering wordsmithing winsome
witch worries woefully which wayward wintry willfully
willing warlock will winsomely win wonder with what wards.
Form:
Silvery, slithery words
Where do they come from?
Hidden
In the well’s dankness
Arising willfully
Surprisingly
Unheedful of my reaction
Or yours
Molding the present
Spilling out of my mouth
Announcing themselves to the world
Often without telling me first
Toil, scribble, and all for naught, as from mind to paper is willfully sought.
The holy of holy’s was just hear, swimming in my head so vivid, and clear.
Forever lost in this translation, I humbly submit to you, my best interpretation.
by Edwin Baldwin 12-20-11
Forever imprinted with the marks of you on my skin
I hungrily take what is given to me with a lurid grin
No need for the world with you in my possession
Even all of you is not enough to satisfy my obsession
I willfully scrounge for any taste I can get
For my hunger and need will never relent
I don't want to impose
But I have to disclose
Your emperor clothes
You're so dressed
So fresh
While the world laughs
At your nakedness
Where are your clothes
That your tailor stole?
Lost pride and dignity
That you surrendered
So willfully
Pride is so silly
So silly
So silly
Weathered face a moment of grace
speckled hands pushing through sands
of time space that can’t be replaced.
Hardened blood left behind in floods
creative passion without mission
grasping at fiction to make your distinction.
Holding your truth for the youth
speaking measures of your pleasures
willfully revealing your hearts dealings.
Form:
The greatest sin, in my opinion,
is to willfully presently pro create children,
who are then born into this world through no choice of their own,
where their future most certainly will be so horribly unknown.
I'm considered one of the all time greatest parent to ever be,
because each day I hear my unborn children gratefully thanking me.
Exhaustedly engaged in a losing battle
Relentlessly rowing with a broken paddle
Constantly convincing the judge in my mind
Passionately pleading for the flaws I find
Dreadfully driven to explain my side as true
Willfully wanting to show my point of view
Quite quickly I'd free, if only I could,
this thralling need to be understood
Form:
Hereby,
A curse upon
those who willfully hurt
or bring suffering to babies,
or who knowingly steal the innocence
reserved for the little children,
by the authority
of God above,
Hereby.
NINTH PLACE WINNER
written January 31, 2022
submitted to "Give Me a Rictameter" Poetry Contest
sponsored by M. L. Kiser
undocumented bona fide lyric writer
very extraordinarily real
also buttery brown bathed in genuine poverty
unlawfully kept under change of invariability
willfully writing human unlawfully and lawfully man made particulars
with frangible dainty legislating to keep safe all that is mine
so how can you know who's
Authentic vs fake and shiny
dear dope
you come at me willfully
dripping deliciously from the
lips of (a) god (somewhere)
dear dope
ripping at tangles in my hair
you are a telescope of
persuasion (manifest
destiny) tokens that can be
tasted (but not touched)
dear dope
double dutch dialect
murmuring
the misused jumprope
sudden swift (sigh)
unties & slides oh
dear dope
Imagine a dream to real to see.
A mind cast victim to the world that be.
Memories breaking, from the sky they leap.
Content with blindness through the world they seek.
Oh heavenly thought, you break us down,
giving us space of which we willfully drowned.
A fate of fact, a fact of fate, a fate that fades,
until all we have is the heavens that remain.
no knowledge of it
a positive innocence
about what is done
what's knowingly done
a negative innocence
injured willfully
Oh! Mighty kings, how many of you have been cursed by a beautiful silhouette.
How many of you have willfully fallen unto treacherous ground.
You have been poison by her pleasures and in her labyrinth you reside, for love is her poison, and desire is a trap.
King no more, but a broken man, for before you a woman exults herself, and in her nakedness –your death lies.
-one