Short Wraith Poems
Short Wraith Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Wraith by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Wraith by length and keyword.
She envied his strength
In a heart shredding sandstorm
He envied her pain,
A fellow chaser of dreams
Turned into a desert wraith
have I gone blind
to what happens
upon rewind
no
and I
have not
even lived once
like cat to pounce
have I forgotten
my true strength
is in love poems
not of the wraith
An imp plied Guinness to a Banshee trick
The wraith in anger gave him chase right quick,
After her gold he did dig
The Leprechaun danced a jig
But lost her rich hoard in a Limerick.
Phantasm breathing hot breath
down my neck, shades of reality gather,
apparition grabs wraith brother and his tears trickle.
My spirit rises to laughter at the
Running terror of a bully brother.
I set alight a fire burning bright
It was a blaze of hope, of faith
Having no tinder, I thought I might
Burn my heart; and smoke billowed, wraith.
I whittled at the carbon fuel, chipping as its lathe.
For lack of a keepsake
One inked line, one hair
Time-stepping, in reverse
Strange, and least adverse
Ask of this to send me back
Her person, my wraith.
Still a youth, but more luscious!
Shy-eyed, but lustrous!
Where are you hiding?
Innocent little boy
Gone?
Never had a home?
Floating wraith of memory
Are we really related?
We should become friends
You need a connection
Some way out of childhood
Why haven't I seen your need
Given you jelly bread and hope.
The One least likely to understand,
Was the One who knew the most
On broken knees, I cannot stand,
But haunt, do I, as wraith or ghost
The One least likely to be subtle,
Was as gentle as a Lamb
And, Oh! My emotions, deeply muddled-
Woe is me is all I am!
Limerick : Once a Poet used an harmless Word
for Andrea D. & Catie L.
Once a Poet used an harmless Word
Word over-use connotes slicing Sword
Sword decapitates sense:
Poet’s sauna incense
Now Word’s Wraith rants on Kerouac Road.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
There was something in the breeze on that day,
Perhaps an idea by which he was dethroned
Or rather he abdicated
And all this while he had her at arms reach though never enraptured
It was on that day he would pine for her only to capture the fading traces of a wraith.
Form:
re-post inspired by contest theme
September's gilded glow..
a meditative illumination..
lemon not ..yellow.
Within and without the fading
light moves wraith-like to
and fro..
Upon the Autumn breeze..
the glory..and the regret..
as Summer's muse prepares
to go.
To hold your head
when the wraith rides
the winds to steal your sleep
to soothe your cheek
when darkness seeks to become
your life without relief
I would ride the wings of a demon
regardless of consequence to trade
for a small measure of respite
for your heart
Two carbon entities
exhale green miasmas
and throttle white throats
in a noose of iron.
The cored captives
diaphanous and rasping
plummet to frightful circles
where sardonic wraiths
gnarl wingèd flesh
in screeching packs
as time loops reverberate
manic and mindless.
Smoggy, foggy, damp and cloggy,
cloyingly moist, feeling soggy,
lost in a shroud of stratus cloud
muffling the voices of the crowd.
Whirling, swirling, wraith-like curling,
absorbing the light, as dark unfurling
it reflects the moak, thick as smoke
all life hidden in its nebulous cloak.
imagination stirs the fire,
her loving form i see,
a wraith of my willed desire,
an yes she comes for me,
for we are linked across the waves,
and far away is she,
me flying aint too good today,
just start swimming soggily,
perhaps i better get some wings,
Pacafic flight 4 ye?
Don Johnson
being watched
by eyes over there
over there
where the eyes are not
their ethereal glare
nefarious
unseen, ready
like puckered lips
this eyeless wraith
with lidless eyes
nowhere, peering
beyond their death
there are eyes staring
that are not there
these shapeless orbs
surrounding
I can barely see you anymore
your essence slips through my fingers
when I reach out to touch you.
But you still haunt my entire
being like a wraith that
hides in the corners of
an empty house.
Your heart is vacant.
I need more than this see-through, intangible
love,
I need flesh and blood.
Form:
It was dark with
firefly lights twinkling.
Time meant nothing
as I drifted by.
Hollow but free,
a wraith of memories
and dreams so empty.
A memory of myself.
The turmoil ended,
leaving sweet darkness.
A resting place,
a bed of darkness.
No whispered thought
or falling tear.
A peaceful sleep
undisturbed forever.
A Different Path
I respect your right to follow a path,
Even though I don’t walk that road.
My heart has always known the truth,
Spare me Gospel you try to unload.
My mind is at peace in sanctuary,
Whilst you seem unsure in faith.
I take no gain from the meaning of life,
Seek no solace in spiritual wraith.
Oh dear healer;
Free our mind!
Don't be a parrot;
Be a shamas!
Cease the xerox of cure;
Catch the yell of wraith!
Oh dear healer;
Free our mind!
You have the wit to heal;
Cease the shape of bleed!
You own a fair shake;
Rejuvenate our faith!
Oh dear healer;
Free our mind!
Oh dear healer;
Free our mind!
Despise the tendrils as they wrap my face
Sunlight spills across the weeping grass
Forgetting eyes that dimly stand as witness
The untouched line that offers travellers hope
And laughs
always beyond their reach
The bastard sun that tilts its whim
And keeps me here once more
Dreaming of the no tomorrow
while today reeks its wraith
Darkling shadows
on my bedroom wall
reach out in ominous warning
they snatch at fears within my head
parading them around my bed
like drunken dance partners
Phantom forms that hypnotize
compelling me to shut my eyes
sheets held tightly in my grip
a prayer of pleading on my lip
that they will not dance their way
into my dreams
A FALLEN MUSE
September's gilded glow..
a meditative illumination..
lemon not ..yellow.
Within and without the fading
light moves wraith-like to
and fro..
Upon the Autumn breeze..
the glory..and the regret..
as Summer's muse prepares
to go.
You hear me recite this and most of my PS poetry on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro.
I'm Guilty of my Pride,
and Gluttony of Lust.
Envious of my Sloth of Wraith,
these seven I do trust.
I've built the walls I live within,
of my seven deadly sins,
Without a thought if they will stop,
all I knows that they've begin.
To take a toll upon my soul,
has if it even matters.
Sin is sin the course of men,
death shall surely follow...
Listen to poem:
Triku
Toiling beetles in
the clime whilst floats a tethered
weathered butterfly
Dreamt woods tapestry
whilst wraith forest mural sketch
a well-drawn sapling
Flames bolt a waxen
cell whilst predators flicker
and sparks trap's a moth
2020 June 03
*1st Place*
Fresh Traditional HAIKU (5-7-5)
~~JCB Burl