Threadbare Poems | Examples

Bad Habit

"Holey all over,
seen better days,
worn out and threadbare,
can't mend its ways,
with drink spills and food stains,
rips, rents and tears,
not worth keeping,
a sad state of affairs,
its time has come,
over and done,
that's one bad habit,”
so said the nun.

Threadbare Heartache

I was kind enough 
To put your shirt 
In the drawer next to my bed 

But I wish 
I had the strength
To leave it on the floor instead 

I want it to collect dust 
But then that means 
The last few months didn’t matter 

Maybe I should just wear it 
To cover up making 
My heart shatter 

Then you 
Would see pictures 
And think I still care 

Which I don’t 
Want you to know 
So I’ll keep you unaware 

What if I just put it 
On the other side 
Of the bed? 

I won’t hold it 
Like I usually do 
But your cologne is still in my head 

I’ll fold it again 
And put it back in the drawer 
With it cracked 

I’ll sleep on the other side 
Until the thought of you 
No longer makes my heart react

Threadbare

thin moon hangs in the blurring light
when the red tape of work ends 
day's end
before darkness darts onto idling pillows

a too slight shine to navigate the strain of living
wounds unstitched
like a heart unhealing from over-crowded transgressions
a feel that's too familiar 
nestled in the treads of tired
where we can't always control the skidding

crescent moon
dangling, unsettled in the sky
                                  shrunk in a sparseness of graying
pinched edges from a light threadbare
unable to lift toil from labor's bones
haggling for some salvation

Threadbare

“Your mother’s love, the silent devotion ,the never heard prayers, the unseen  care.” ~~ Shobhna Kanwar~~ 

She stood in the foyer of the church, through the window to the aisle.
Her threadbare clothes hung around her form in denial.
She watched him take her arm, as they approached the groom.
A hush was heard as the organ played in the room.

How stunning the bridesmaids, four beautiful girls, 
The bride exquisite, her delicate lace gown studded with pearls.
The crowd were obviously all well to do,
Men in Versace suits, women clad in Channel and Dior too.

She listened as they said their vows and swore to be true.
She smiled as he proclaimed to his bride “I love you”.
Marriage complete, they would all soon walk out to the street.
It was time for the hagged woman to make a hasty retreat.

He glanced at her but didn’t raise an eyebrow.
She would never be recognized the way she looked now.
It was so long since she had cried, she shed just one tear.
Her dear daughter would never know that her mother was here.

Threadbare

The light by which everything else is known,
is what we seek, to become self-aware
and so we sow seeds of love, all home grown,
that the tree of life reveals truth threadbare.

Love is a mist in which ego dissolves,
paving way for consciousness to expand,
whence we see how soul in our heart evolves
and then God’s divine plan we understand.

As heart lotus blossoms in body prism,
Holy Spirit begins to pervade form
and thus transcending teachings of each ism,
we’re engulfed in a magnetic bliss storm.

Questions cease when we become the answer,
gliding with grace, like a cosmic dancer.

Threadbare Clouds

Moon
came out
dressed only
in threadbare clouds
Sun spun her a gown
of seawater
embroidered
with green
glass

Threadbare Memories

Threadbare memories from my past
    like worn out souvenirs,
  packed away with dreams recast
      and thoughts of yesteryear.

Tear-stained photos caked with dust
    and ghosts of long ago;
  stowed away and ne’er discussed,
      yet will not e’er let go.

Are these daydreams all for naught
    within my mind amassed?
  Haunting now are threadbare thoughts,
      these memories from my past.


November 8, 2021

A Collection of Days

A Collection of Days
David J Walker

It looks for all to me like
The same sky
Passing by  
As I wake to greet
Each new dawn

And the midday grass is
As green and fresh 
as any shaggy lawn 
I ever mowed for money 
As a boy

Every summer day
Every leaf that fell in Fall 
Ever winter snowdrift or
Spring rain
Feels and looks and smells 
The same as when 
I first arrived
All those years ago

So
What has changed
What has slowed and
Rearranged the
Ebb and flow of life


I am sure this is the
Same day continuing on
As when it first begun

Oh yes,
There are new songs 
To be sung
New lives and things
 to learn to love
New clothes to wear 
As the old fade and grow threadbare 

But tell me it’s a Monday 
Or Tuesday and how, 
Other than timebound 
Obligation, it is any different
than that  springtime Sunday
we walk in the park with the
realization that 
The sun is setting and 
Soon it will be dark 

And when the darkness comes
I will have banked 
A collection of the days
Of my life
As if all in one timeframe
Filed under my name

Can a Threadbare Rope

can a threadbare rope
hold the balance of justice
from crushing our hope?

what's the cost in gold
to decide any man's fate
when it's bought and sold?

heaven is the place
where a man is judged simply
by his sacred face!

Humanity Threadbare

How and Why?? 
With whom and where..
Amidst innocent cries
and tearful eyes,
HUMANITY ONCE AGAIN...
THREADBARE...

Don't let the pain fade this time
Don't let politics and religion play
Zero tolerance is the demand now
A new promise, a fresh vow.. 
Slogans and protests no more in vain.

Days passed, Oh! Sadly I hear,
Thank God, it is not someone Dear..
And see  HUMANITY ONCE AGAIN
WENT DOWN THE DRAIN...

Threadbare Clouds

Gray smeared sky like a quilt of rags
Winos sip rot gut from brown paper bags
Threadbare cloud crotch splits up the side
Rain pours down, you got nowhere to hide

Cheap umbrella from a street corner pimp
Turns inside out before going limp
Putrid puddles, soggy doggy doo dollops
Are artfully dodged by high-heeled trollops

A rat scurries by with a piece of bread
Like the ant that totes a leaf on its head
You too once held big dreams in your grasp
But they got drowned with a gurgling gasp

You told me before, no you don't stutter
Your genius ideas got washed down the gutter
Now like a scavenger after a flood
You salvage what's left from out of the mud

Ashes to crashes, lust to rust
In the end it only goes bust
Caught in between the future and past
You start out just fine but finish dead last


____________________________

by Brian McClain - Jan 23, 2016

Threadbare Heart

a slight feeling of ambivalence,
the merest hint of cold indifference
crushes all the confidence
that's in a threadbare heart
take care, take time, show tenderness,
each simple smile's a rich indulgence
that costs but a moment of patience
and restores a threadbare heart

Threadbare

Wear
thy breast
thin, now rest
thy cheeks rosy
upon my armored chest
smashing the headboard, tea cozy
Now we play ring around the rosary
In me embedded, stroking silk strands of my hair
Thoughts growing so hazy, day dream dozy 
Your fiery eyes keep me toasty
now roaming kisses quest
our lips mosey
mounting crest
Last test
Bare
----------
This is a Diatelle.

Threadbare

the delicate fabric rends
once intricately meshed
carefully woven together by loving hands

beautifully it hangs
the cloth, pleasing to the eye
colorful hues in a fashionable design

underneath--tattered and shredding
worn from friction and resistance
strings now falling on the ground 

the delicate fabric rends
once intricately woven
carefully meshed together by loving hands
now frayed and flawed....threadbare

On My Threadbare Love

My love is like a worker's gloves grown old.
His hands are leather, roughened now with age
and years of work in weather hot and cold,
yet through the many years, he has grown sage. . .

My love is like a builder's pair of boots.
He's dusty and fatigued and still he walks
while trailing mud, but now his attributes
shine through despite life's many stumbling blocks.

My love is like a pair of jeans much worn,
a pair of socks with holes that have stayed warm.
Though time and all the trials he has borne
have left him frayed, he wishes no one harm.

To write a beaming sonnet would not do,
but threadbare love (in some ways) bests the new.

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