Weary Poems - Poems about Weary

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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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I look at the wall I see nothing I hear whispers Yet there is silence My Faith grows weak Belief I don’t seek Wondering if God even cares Is it worth to pray? Waiting and waiting with no change If, when and how are not communicating Tears pour The heart turns sour Beyond seems still No movement to fulfill Weary goes on and on But for how long? Stubbornness comes on My...

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As the day bade its circadian farewell, the fleeing sun Pulled its last glow from weary war-worn trees. On distant plains, vacant honeycombs no longer buzz With the songs of industrious bees:- The thunder of exploding weapons rains down dreaded...

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Winter chilling tribulations cannot be denied; Nor can determination and hope that abide. Pandemic trials and tribulations have their time, So do the loving spiritual supports that are mine. Though many are filled with grief in their fate, I maintain loving trust in my ever-promised faith. And though pandemonium and faith challenge me Together, There is nothing in true faith that my...

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Thou, Minos, know I’m weary of all things, Of wars and deaths and cabbages and kings. I wield that battered shield that is the sky, And with my strength protect what ‘neath doth lie: But what when Earth itself would wish to die? ...

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My weary fingers cannot move my pen, Memories trapped between now and then, a silent and mute echo. I write these words to tell our story, Unfinished songs burning in this journal of time. Shorelines and sunsets, laughter and hidden pains, Adorned with your warmth, now they haunt me in this silence. I torment the present, hoping to find meaning, To bring...

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I'm tired of the way the ball always bounces, and of gaining pounds while only eating ounces, tired that for every one step forward, there's two steps back, and that my glass is always half empty because of that crack, and tired of the poetry teacher - who my name perpetually mispronounces....

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Darkness is fast Tree with no leaves Souls are gloomy....

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If you are disillusioned use what you can, put not your trust in self-seeking men.' Or women for that,.In all events will not Do.!! We need Jesus.' And also do our neighbours this Is (the whole world through!) If you are honest to you Look at the signs upon this earth.' And call to the only One..Who is faithfull...

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For months, a poem was written a day To serve as keeping my diary. Wanted to stop at the end of a simple, pure and fun filling friendship. For a while, my feelings and my writing headed different direction. That caused me headache and panic. Soon, I regretted for not letting my inner thoughts, To flow as freely as it should...

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With flesh and bone we cross the stone Over the ragged rock we worry not Our feet are tough Our steps are rough We walk forward home Now sun and day no longer stay Our path is set and will be met Our legs are weary Our eyes not teary We prepare forward home Though rock and stone may be our throne And leaves and grass...

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Unspoken ideas are art galleries in ruin, frescoes on the walls of our weary minds, From them were born the wars that tore humanity apart through infinite epochs, Unspoken words melt into the air like musical notes you will never hear, Yet they are there, scattered in your soul like dancing ghosts. I turn back time to destroy peace,...

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