Short Woefully Poems
Short Woefully Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Woefully by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Woefully by length and keyword.
River Propellers
A river the boater speeding...woefully…through being.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 17, 2010
Poetic form: Monoku
Old Father Time offered for sale
Used scythes Death designed to impale
The demos were free
But if you ask me
Those buyers looked woefully pale!
The Pilgrims were woefully thinner
But learned what to eat from a sinner
In thanks for their living
They held a Thanksgiving
And ate Wampanoag for dinner
Woefully, the footlights dim,
the magic fades—the chorus grim
A curtain falls as memory fades,
the ending near—one last charade
(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2019)
"Oh, my dear, when will you lose that kirsh kabir?" I say woefully.
"When we go to the gym, dear," He said sentimentally.
Eventually they had made love with their own bodies.
Grimly grown
into the
youthful
yearnings
towards
being alone.
Within this
wistful world
woefully willing
to wear itself down.
In order to be
branded as
something of
your own.
Form:
Love lusts longingly
Hate hurts heartily
Marriage mars mercilessly
Wife whines woefully
Husband hustles habitually
Sex sells shamelessly
Politician preys persistently
Priest panders pompously
Cash corrupts completely
War wrecks wantonly.
Poems are coming slowfully.
For I am most woefully
And truly most woefully
In the hospital doe-fully
Itching my skin until bleeding
More potent pills I am pleading
Poems are decidedly misleading
Me out of this stupor I’ll be needing
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:
Unwelcome shades of scorn, I despise
On this woeful night I slowly fade
Spears that pierce, I feel betrayed
Dismayed, I sorrowfully close my eyes
Resigned to the tempter’s whim
I woefully ask, for him to forgive
Yet I speak no whispers bid me live
Aught I lay waste to my grievous sins?
Sunday softly sweetly swinging,
Freely flying forward, fabulous fun,
She’s Smiling Seeing sunshine,
Happily helping her healthy heart,
Wife weeping woefully,
Cannot control constant crying,
Hideously hiding her hurt,
Sponsor Joseph May
Contest Name Alliterisen
9th May 2023
Can you hear
The whispering grass
Call to the trees
The trees woefully reply
Rustling their leaves
They tell a tale
Of loves lost
Of saddened
And heavy hearts
Of a girl who cries
She sobs at night
Till she can cry no more
How sad she is
And wishes how
And if only
And sighs
She's sorry
Form:
Center stage left, and exit.
Enter the Demon stage right-
And there he comes to play; weaving
His way, piteously, throughout the act.
Lurking on haunches in plain sight.
We smile with mirth; delight.
Oh what a scene! What a show!
Then the lights go out.
Woefully, crowds recognize that which was not fiction.
Love lusts longingly
Hate hurts heartily
Marriage mars mercilessly
Wife whines woefully
Husband hustles habitually
Sex sells shamelessly
Politician preys persistently
Priest panders pompously
Religion ravages rationally
Cash corrupts completely
War wrecks wantonly,
Peace pacifies profusely.
~11/02/22
Contest: A Brian Strand Premiere Choice.
My longing for love was so lethal
I swear on the lasting love
I went looking for love everywhere…
but found love nowhere.
I was so woefully wounded
I swear on severed spirit
I went searching for salve everywhere…
and found panacea nowhere.
I severely sought salvation
I swear on all saints
I set sail on seven seas everywhere
and found sanctuary nowhere.
May you soon return
not as disempowered
disabled
and woefully unenlightened,
trespassing against integrity,
against peace
and restoring healthy justice
Nor even as an honored
LeftBrain dominating guest.
May you soon return
to our compassionate Home,
where loving voices
courageously resound
for co-empowering dances
curiously sung
in co-enlightened scales
of benediction.
Delightfully dancing delicate doppio,
twirling the twisted turns.
Staccato steps, softly sublime
Reaching rich rapture.
Pausing, pondering performance parameters
Considering critical, controversial clash
Taking time to tackle the tearful troupe
Before breaking buoyant babble
Wizen words, woefully wrapped,
delivered. Deadening delirious delight.
Seeking solace; silent sobs slip softly.
Beating drum resounding,
common thoughts confounding.
Emotions striped bare
confusion is there.
Feeling for him
whilst knowing,
this love may
not be worth showing.
Chances slim
yet hope begins.
Ignoring past,
heart beating fast.
Woefully smitten
by love
I was bitten.
Dreams of fantasy
hopes for ecstasy,
just wanting
you next to me.
Night fades to day
and again
he vanishes away.
More vacuous verse to the void:
abysmal, of meaning devoid.
A reflexive spasm
sends more to the chasm
where anemic arts are destroyed.
Escaping, strange thoughts from my head
go written but largely unread.
Another deposit
to add to the closet
of words that are better unsaid.
So, in the crevasse this now lurks
with woefully wonderless works:
discursive digressions
regarding obsessions
with muses and quixotic quirks.
My heart beats out your name
In steady three-quarter time
This waltz of love sustains me
With the hope that you'll be mine
I dream of you so often
It's almost like you are
But almost can't do justice
It's woefully under par
Yet when I get to see you
My spirit soars to heights
Not humanly attainable
I'm passing stars in flight
That's the effect you have on me
In all the days I've lived
I've never met another
Who can give me what you can give
Listen to poem:
Zippily, zippity, I slip down
the slippery dip slide.
Zippity-doo-dah, slippily-dippity-do!
Suddenly and nippily, tipping
backwards to quicken the pace.
Snappily, I whippingly
swish right off the end of the slide.
I launch into space,
Fly high in the air, arms wildly flaying
like a rocket man on steroids, screaming.
I land with an awfully
painful jolt, snap and thump.
Woefully my aplomb undone,
not so spryly or lightly,
right on my backside.
She is a prisoner of her own conviction
A self-imposed life sentence
Found guilty of scorn and self-doubt.
Often, she stands gazing intently into her mirror
Scrutinizing the entire reflection
Instead of the mirror encouraging her to love her beautiful self,
The reflection staring back disheartens her.
She wonders if these deep ingrained feelings will ever cease to exist.
She lies in wait, woefully, longing for the day
When her sentence comes to an end.
Young people today
seem afraid to be alone
with their thoughts...
needing faces
and twits
to distract
or else fits...
fearing to write
without spell-check
or a grammar that links
needing to dress-up
in garish array what
past generations
early-on
knew
stinks
I think, spontaneity
is more telling
of the good we are,
and of our lack
and loss—
today revealing
a modern society
where correct
is unfortunately
woefully false….
2020
The sands are running out
falling just outside our grasp
seemingly out of reach,
distant and taunting as they pass.
Closing our eyes we mockingly mourn
these last whimpers of time's fleeting
unrecoverable stolen moments.
Woefully beseeching a fickle god
for relief of our doubts, our fears,
our unanswerable questions
and unanswered prayers.
The grains of life ebb away
uncounted, seeping through
the groping fingers of now.
John G. Lawless
12/26/2020
Bogs Is Truly Awful !
Cold like old man bony
the wind whooshes,
through impudent rushes
empty, stony, hungry
It's special beauty
melancholic,
making wretched poetry
The night skys velvet
torn to shreads
you there
stumbling woefully
Your two pale feet
turning brown, brown
as Sunday gravy
And now you come to
understand
Bogs ain't for man,
the sad or even crazy,
bogs is best appreciated
(no matter what
you're told)
by poets
and the lonely
Form: