Weathered Poems | Examples

weathered walls are beautiful

a cracked building sighs
a century's worth of deep
secrets veiled inside

The Farmer's Hands

The farmer stands with weathered hands,
Tending soils, nurturing the lands.
His heart beats with the Earth's own song,
Though seasons shift and days grow long.

Through drought and storm, he does not break,
For in the soil, his dreams awake.
A quiet strength, both firm and kind,
A bond with nature is intertwined.

Weathered Opportunities

Beyond the relics stance tainted feigned glory, 
the achievers had gifted us their puzzles,
speckled based best in their field of theory,
like Baia hot baths, can't stomach its guzzles,
aloft or cavernous, or in a quarry,
like those Pyramid guys fuss up their fuzzles, 
as rock piles escape while history depicts,
the bookshelves leave those green stains with those quick picks.

Millenniums, centuries, decades, plus years,
anthropologists helped by benefactors,
busy in their research before disasters,
like Baia downed in Naples Bay, off its shores,
letters for funding by their alma maters,
reach prosperous grads where old money outpours,
and achievers will have their dribblings published,
skilled wins the Nobel Prize as greatly cherished.

Old Weathered Pickup

A rust-eaten frame, a canvas of scars,
A weathered old truck, a king of the bars.
Its paint, once a gleam, now faded and worn,
Like a story told, a lesson to be born.

The tailgate hangs loose, a creak in its swing,
A testament to loads it has borne and will bring.
The tires are knobby, hardened with grit,
From roads less traveled, a seasoned spirit.

The engine, a rumble, a groan and a sigh,
A symphony of power, reaching for the sky.
Its windows are cracked, with stories untold,
Of journeys taken, in sun and in cold.

Inside, a worn seat, a leather embrace,
The scent of old grease, in every space.
A dashboard of dials, with needles that stray,
Whispering secrets, from yesterday.

This beat-up pickup, a soul in its steel,
A faithful companion, a friend that's real.
It carries the weight of life, with a hardy grace,
A symbol of resilience, in time and in space.

Old Fishing Boat

Old battered vessel,
Waves crash but it sails onward,
Seas can't break its will,
With stories in every scar,
Enduring, it braves the storm.

The Weathered Blade

Now bring forth the sword of justice

Forged in fire and tempered in blood

Kneel before the hand that wields it

And bear witness the coming flood

For those usurpers of the realm

Suffer the bite of weathered blade

The battle will be fought and won

Over the fields of hill and glade

By the honor of ancient times

And decreed by the King's command

This sword of glory bound by trust

Will shine the light upon the land

is love not like the weathered bark

Is love not like the weathered bark
Tightly holding that which it cherishes
A gnarled and wily smile savoring
The beauty of its outstretched arms
Rocking to the tempo of the time
Swaying in a sunset serenade
Bowing to the moon’s mellowness
Cracking its knuckles in the cooling glow

Oh, love, you traipsing vagabond
Trailing your pheromonal tease
Amidst the cloudless shadows
Stirring the sediment of sensuality
Arousing a tingle of latent lust
Sitting on the edge of sunrise
Listening to the songs of spring

Weathered Pages

 

I am turning back weathered pages of time,
to our backyard sandbox.
Dad made it for me,
and my brother.
I see us,
playing,
so peacefully.
Oh, why did you go,
to that war so far away,
and came home to us in a flag draped box ?

Weathered Decades

Mausoleum and graves extremely old
They have not withstood test of endless time
Human love and tragedy long grown cold
Lay under protection of pure divine.

Weathered decades obliterated names
So many graves in decrepitude lay
Impetuous nature has claimed domain
Humanities spirit ever holds sway.

Listen carefully restless spirits sigh
Mournful whispers in ancient cedar tree
Seems they are reluctant to say goodbye
Bright future awaits they cannot foresee.

Spirits one day will arise and move on
Gentle Shephard takes charge his flock has gone.

Pixabay image by: MrsBrown

Enliven the Weathered Life

Atmosphere stratified over billions of years
Envelopes the Earth with protective layers
Saves lives from harmful cosmic radiation 
Controls the climate and weather variation
Burns meteorites before they become curse
So the Earth doesn’t turn into another Mars.

Mountain peaks pierce invisible atmosphere
Air pressure decreases up the gradient there
Breathlessness sets in with oxygen depletion
Climber’s heart struggles albeit in jubilation
Clouds spiral in cyclonic low-pressure trough
Pour as rain and snow swept by winds rough.

Let the depressed life climb the mountain high
Rise over dreary atmosphere to touch the sky
Reach euphoria stratum where pressure is low 
Enliven weathered life leaving the agony below
Ecstasy clouds will suffuse the mind at elevation
Drizzle in your soul as the shower of exaltation.

December 30, 2021
Contest : Weather
Sponsor : Angela Tune

Weathered Leaves

"From green, tender buds to full burnished art-
     the seasons take pause amid weathered leaves."
                                                              _by Poet 

To weathered leaves of fall, the seasons turned.
Once buds unfurled in springtime April rain-
to verdant greenness; now red-orange burned-
dried, curled, and crumpled- ending summer reign.
No longer green, but brilliant hues again
drape seasoned shawls of golden browns and rust
that soon crisp autumn winds, to ground, will thrust
and carpet well the faded grass below;
the last hurrah- emblaze the earthen crust-
then sink, full-weathered, neath the winter snow.


November 24, 2021

Premiere Strand Contest No. 1096
Sponsor: Brian Strand

Weathered and Worn

This flesh of mine has endured my life span
And is stained with brown spots from time's design
Memories from the brain of this old man
Are weathering and peal as they entwine
Years wither away and steal every ounce
Of youthful bloom which has all disappeared
This gray wrinkled skin has come unannounced
The aged face in the mirror I feared
I accept the cracks and pain of my hand
Worn and battered from my work of content
Though veins protrude from my legs used to stand 
As the blood which flows begins to ferment
I have arrived at my life's final page
Find I'm worn and weathered upon this stage


11/23/21
contest "W"-Weathered
sponsor Constance La France

Weathered

Torn, tattered, tainted,
my Book of Shadows

Travels with me,
from cities to meadows

Drawings included;
demons and rainbows

Spells introduced,
between haystacks and cornrows

Too frequented to be dusty,
fingerprints galore

Weathered in delight,
my personal grimoire 

Some may find it spooky,
but to me, I adore

Empty pages wait for me,
what do they have in store


Tuesday, November 23, 2021
''W'' New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France

My Weathered Porch

I rock contently on my weathered porch
where the evening's breeze carries a melody
of peaceful notions
like the fluttered feathers of birds before they fly
where I join the tranquil yearning's of my spirit
and listen to the warm inviting tones of the world
in an evening's sunset of silent journeys and reflection
with pictures created by yesterday's deeds
and tomorrow's wishes

I'll journey with each picture
with a quiet understanding of what was and what is
while I'm wrapped in a setting sun
that dances on the tips of waves
rushing onto the shore of my thoughts
made by the crushed days of my life
where the only sound I hear
is the soft creaking of my chair
as it rocks back and forth
on the weathered porch of old age
where I invite life's incoming tide of timeless wonder
before the sun sets and the night of my days
carries me to an eternal sleep

11/20/21

While Weathered and Scarred Putting In Gutter Guard

seemed to be so hard
putting in a gutter guard
while weathered and scared.

• Short Weathered Poems
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• Best Weathered Poems
• Read Weathered Poems
• Long Weathered Poems
• Weathered Quotes