Weary Poems

Grief Is a Beast With Weary Eyes

Grief is a beast with weary eyes 
Waiting on a chord unfinished—
The tinny purr—
A waving growl of tambourine,
Death’s rattle sounds the closing bars,
That dissonant finale.

Crest on crest the ocean marches,
Leave forever in their wake,
Repeating patterns, variations,
Enigmas do their shadows make.

Dawn’s dunes of drought, by dusk
Drowned out by moon’s dictates,
Rhythm of the days; advance—
Recede, advance —

Halo and Heart

She stirred the pasta with one hand, 
red pen in the other, 
marking fragments of thought while her own scattered across the stovetop. 
The dog barked. The toddler cried. 
She whispered encouragement to both.

Later, long past the hour of rest, 
she sat beneath the glow of a weary lamp, 
rewriting tomorrow’s plan to fit admin’s

Going, Going, Gone

Arrived alive
departed dead
and the same
may be said
of all who tread
this weary world
of ours
less a milestone
more a speed bump
each Birthday
I perceive
and poetry
is but one way to fill
the waning hours for me

Judgement Day

Birthday, Christmas Day, Fourth of July
Easter Sunday, Thanksgiving, ain’t gonna lie
Holiday, Holy Day, Fifth Monday
Every day, all day, not a fun day

Each day, every day is Judgement Day
Each day, every day is Judgement Day

They look at you
They weigh you
They measure you
Any way they can

They find you wanting
They find you lacking
They find you missed the mark
Best

This Web Is Weary

My dream catcher cries
with the intake of these fears.
This web is weary.
Expunging all this dead weight,
what a harsh burden to bare. 

My friend wove a spell 
translating to protection. 
Solace in the dark. 
Look at what hangs high above,
the gift of peaceful slumber. 

Is desire enough? 
Will we wake with folded hands? 
This web is

He Gave Us More

Being weary of our direction
No guidance which way to go
We cried out Lord please help us
He pointed His finger, that way now go
With the new land of milk and honey
We grew dependent upon the Lord
He gave us all we needed
And continued to give us more
Thank You Lord for Your goodness
We'll remember Your kindness indeed
Oh Lord

Weary Soul

Yes ,yes I was a precious soul
Turned to a flower that's slowly decaying
My roots are dead and gone
Can only draw waters when I'm praying 

The stars allign enough to keep me breathing
but never enough to keep me away from grieving
I'm a question mark in motion when it comes to 
the act of living
Sometimes wishing to

Decrepit roots still cling

The palace of love we built ~  
when our blood still flowed very warm in our veins,  
     is now a crumbled castle —  
its walls with peeled paints and decayed wood;  
     a jaded clock and faded photographs  
  

Another Curtain Call

Staring at the mirror’s image,
I see what others see;
but can they see the need for love
so deep inside of me?

I hear my laughter just as loudly
as those who see my smile;
but can they hear the tinge of sadness
that lingers for awhile?

My posture mocks a stately stance,
my gait is smooth and free;
but can they see the

Through This Weary Way of Silence

Silence, like a glass thrown up in the air
Then exploding, its shards like a nagging echo
Raining on a heart, and it's so unfair
To bleed for love that is not there... Is there, 
Through this weary way of silence, I must go. 

I would turn around then I would not turn around, 
Your smile and glances

Word-Weary

I don't choose the muse
the muse chooses me
but when I need her most
then whereabouts is she
abandoned and self-mocked
not word one could I pen
with writer's block
my fate cast to the wind
but if the wraith had knocked
as does opportunity
I couldn't tell
on the other hand
her silence rings a bell
so left to my own devices
of weft warp and weave
forged

We can no longer continue as we are, souls weary from nerves

We can no longer continue as we are, souls weary from nerves,
creatures grinding their lives in worries, fearing death because they have never truly lived.
We have lost ourselves in the maps of days, searching for treasures that do not shine under the sun,
and we have forgotten how to sip from the morning as from a

MARTY KING AND SHENIKA SIMS: warm water for weary feet

MARTY KING

when i needed a friend
all skies were black
my head could only bend down
i could never look up
then came you as sunshine
i realized that you were God's Sign
light came into the darkest part of the mine
Friend Till The End and Now I Ascend

SHENIKA SIMS

when i needed to be loved
the devil mainly controlled the weather
every bone

In a realm of tranquil illusions, weary spirits find thrones of comfort

In a realm of tranquil illusions, weary spirits find thrones of comfort,
Lives frozen in monotonous dances, dolls forgotten in the windows of dead time,
Middle-aged souls, ghosts of lost hope, nestle into routine,
The leaden embrace of stagnation promises them an eternity of divine peace.
Deep within the soul, fear sneaks in like an underground stream,
The fear that

Weary Is My Mind

Weary Is My Mind

I promise, I swear, I will never, I will always
That blaring sentiment of a pattering ghost that I detest
Among the empty hollowing of her mouth and eyelids
There lies darkness deep and unending that I fell into once, 

never again.

Baffled and naked, afraid and convinced I was nearing my hearse
She runs screaming, yelping

• Short Weary Poems
• Famous Weary Poems
• Best Weary Poems
• Read Weary Poems
• Long Weary Poems
• Weary Quotes