Stale Poems - Poems about Stale

The first door I believed in boasted of the things it had, and I didn't. The second one only wanted to show me how much time I had spent in a Polaroid. Another door was nice to me but the nuts were badly screwed. The bravest move was taking a chance on each door. That any one of them...

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Written: April 14, 2025 for contest sponsored by Brian Strand ****************** The subject matter of this poem explores themes of transience, intersection of life and death, and the fragile coexistence of human and natural worlds. a loaf of discounted bread ...

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He starts with the natural order of things, thinks wash bedsheets, been pushing chores aside - that's just natural. Done with saccharine, from now on teaspoonful of honey at least until the year-old jar stops oozing. Corn flakes gone stale, the days fall out of sleep way sooner than they should, and that's hard to do - naturally. Order comes and goes. Mold grows blue bread nothing last as long as fungus. It's...

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My knees held tightly to my chest, I thought the storm clouds were miles off in the distance, Of someone else's distress. But morning came, and the storm remained. No water nor washing could wipe away the stains of sorrows And restlessness from my covers- My detrimental haven... I could rot away here, the irony being I already do. What treasures can...

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Finally, my blood began to coagulate. Disoriented; from all that’s bleeding through. Trying to grasp the hand of my soulmate; I notice a heart that’s receding too. And now, one heart beats where there once were two. In life or death I see no love that’s true....

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Queen's gambit, denied Life is like a game of chess Waiting for a mate...

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I feel stale Like a cigarette that’s been put out and relit too many times An overcooked flavor of twice smoked dreams, fills every room. When that blue haze of familiarity clouds my mind, Add another coat of lipstick to the filter I’m always plenty revved up But going nowhere, fast I’ve got one foot slammed on the gas and another...

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Beat of the heart showed no rhyme; vibrating without some sense. Its voice sounds like a cold clime; saying statement sans intense. Note: This form is called Tanaga, a traditional short Filipino poem which is only a quatrain, having 7 syllables in each line. The rhyming schemes may be aaaa, aabb, abab or abba....

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Why ask questions? When there are no answers....

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Dismay that I am so blithely uncouth As to bluntly say what is on my mind, So, I shall blame the stale vermouth. Dismay that I am so bitterly uncouth To go through life with this sad truth, It is necessary, I admit, for me to find Dismay that I am so blithely uncouth, As to bluntly say what is on my...

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Been running like the devil with his pants on fire. Tearing up a rutted road with no spare tire. Racing toward the sunset in a reckless mood While the tension turns my knuckles white And I grit my teeth, got no time to waste, ‘cause I’m still a quarter mile from a stale green light. My baby called to say she...

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Stale the ale Rancid the memories in my pail Bruises, injections bloody reflections A life thrown away no more to say...

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Inhale Stale Ale Without Fail without any fail when much ale you will inhale always seems so stale Jim Horn...

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There was but one dark chocolate tart left in the silver tray It’s cherry, pinched by passersby ...

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The State of the Art (I) by Michael R. Burch Has rhyme lost all its reason and rhythm, renascence? Are sonnets out of season and poems but poor pretense? Are poets lacking fire, their words too trite and forced? What happened to desire? Has passion been coerced? Shall poetry fade slowly, like Latin, to past tense? Are the bards too high and holy, or their readers merely dense? Keywords/Tags:...

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