Stale Poems - Poems about Stale

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...Read the rest...

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...Read the rest...

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

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...Read the rest...

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...Read the rest...

Why ask questions? When there are no answers....Read the rest...

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...Read the rest...

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,...Read the rest...

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

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

There was but one dark chocolate tart left in the silver tray It’s cherry,...Read the rest...

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...Read the rest...

It’s raining outside and I feel content to just sit on the porch and watch a squirrel snag a slice of pizza from a trash can The weight is too great and it falls in but this is one determined squirrel A Moliére tale about...Read the rest...

If something is stale It's an amount of tale As bitter as an ale That ruins the unit of life As it is becoming restale Younger age' s agility When turning to fragility One is...Read the rest...

Stale as the wind was, so was my soul, unveiling my poor essence for crumbs- Forgetting I was lost at sea… when you came and abandoned me. Encompassed by sin without forgiveness, feeling all the shame of loss and regret- Forgetting...Read the rest...