Weepy Poems | Examples

after the concert

After the concert

Now, in the afternoon of my life
My thoughts are about love and romance
These pesky things are disturbing 
My tough exterior makes me soft and weepy
When no one looked is now in front and
Naked I appear; yes, you old fool 
Words of love and music for the heart
Make me cry and loosen the knot of old
Resentment tells me nothing matters
Except loving someone and not being afraid
Love is the freedom that gladdens the
Tired heart and cleanses the dust that fell
On wisdom and truth

Old and Crusty

(Pema, spring of 2024)

Old and Crusty

Pema the deaf dog
Has gotten to the point
Where long walks are out of the question
But long naps are without question.

He’s looking pretty scruffy these days
Tongue always hanging out a bit
Since he has so few teeth left,
Eyes cloudy and weepy
And joints all stove up,
But I still love him with all my heart.

And so does everyone else who knows him,
But more and more it’s not so much
For the pug he is
As much as the one he once was
And this recognition breaks my heart
A little each time I realize it.

Breaks my heart for him and his numbered days
And for me, his faithful master
Who really isn’t much different.

(6/12/25)

Poetic Podcast Episode 39

The feeling of a target on your back 
and a thousand tongues waiting to scoff. 
That’s how you feel being a square 
surrounded by a family of rectangles. 
You’ve got to be courageous to stand out,
you’re already locked in your reflection. 

Ever been the only one in the room? 
It feels like every eye is on you. 

The longer you sit those nerves stand up,
feeling simultaneously alien and awkward.
Minutes multiply your heartbeat spirals,
you want to run out but that’s too loud. 
Is it even worth it? 
Hidden tears begin to tease mascara
blinking back weepy warning bells:
This fatal audience will see you fail. 

Ever been the only one in the room? 
It feels like every eye is on you. 

Breathing through it is all you can do.
Have courage, smile, and just be you. 
We’ve all been self conscious, it’s okay.
Hold you’re head up straight and tall
Let them see you as the star you are,
shine on in the dark be the spotlight. 

Ever been the only one in the room? 
It feels like every eye is on you.

The Shadow Dwellers

Emerging from my teens
I had a head full
of ghosts to escape from -
inhabitants of an inner world
I kept to myself. Future life
was over there, 
at the end of a train line, 
a long road, the last port 
of call on a ship's long voyage.

I could never get far enough
away - they always 
found me hiding in some
masquerade, a clever cover
concocted to conceal - 
at times I even fooled myself.
Mirrors were a bane,
they told the truth 
and so I learned to look away.

A lifetime on 
they are still with me but now
I know each by name. 
There are days  
when they draw close 
and become weepy
as if seeking love,
though still afraid to leave
the refuge of my shadow.

Today

I'm feeling fragile today
when asked why
I don't know what to say
I just feel off
and a bit weepy
and down in the dumps
and everything seems creepy
friends are being akward
because they don't understand
I just want to jump into bed
not caring how I land
and stay there until
this feeling goes away
or I get my fill
of hiding from today

Scripts Of The Macabre

Creepy crawlies and heebie-jeebies
raw ripples on your skin kafkaesque;
You peek at that dark monstrosity,
cannot tell if it’s a trick or treat;
Nerves taunt with chimerical spectres;

Weepy eyes are stung by angry bees,
‘Pshaw!’ escapes a story so grotesque;
Flew through your mouth unable to flee,
caught swelled saliva starts to secrete;
Serves well scripts of macabre directors.

When death becomes a living thing

When death becomes a living thing
A clawing, unseen, weepy touch
A spreading stain of seeping fear
A pall draped o’er the light of day

When death becomes the present tense
When muted voices must redress
Old words, like flowers, curled and mute
To free themselves from sorrow’s lie

When living death subverts its role
Its cape and scythe gone strangely still
A coldness of the soul is held
When death becomes a living thing

Ink Demon

Free the ink demon in my pen
That wants to rhyme wants to sin
Beauty has no duty to reason or season
It just is and naturally gives it lives

In the moment a babe recognizes face
The second the blue breeze baptizes beach
Why is the world to me a maroon melody
Playing my mind like wind chime 
Or green tree leaves

Bear with me as I learn to grow
To hear the music of the gold soul
One who touches others so deeply 
That we get still maybe even weepy

I hear a high pitch in my head
Is it a glitch alone in my bed
Should be asleep but lie awake 
Hoping to try to write my wrongs away

Lollipop Candy

A lollipop, she wanted to devour
But her painted lips were tainted and sour
Goodness sakes alive
She broke out in hives
Hidden by a mask, she chose to cower

Inside her mouth the lollipop was stuck
But her joy of sucking had run amuck
She pulled and she jerked
Nothing she did worked
What a terrible time for rotten luck

Photographs were taken and passed around
Many folks found them to be quite profound
Her weepy eyes held tears
Visible were her fears 
As the lollipop sucker, she's renowned

Not exactly the best way to gain fame
I heard tell she has never been the same
Had to move out of town
Became a circus clown
She's called Candy, after changing her name

The coming of spring

In the city of snow 
Dressed in precious white
He sits on the stool of glow
Covered in fiery light

Thunder and lightning
Fire meets sound
The sight is frightening
Rumblings from the skies to the ground

He rises from his fiery site
He wipes the drops from his eyes
Turning to mist in the fiery night
Stormy downpour in the weepy skies

The time is right for the coming of spring 
We bide the joy the spring will bring

I Share This Loneness

I share this loneness
Of losing myself
Head and foot, and all betwixt
To this void of night
With whom, from afar
Musing on what's missed
Ghostily, too, weepy roves
If as a dream sprite.

Rain Babble

Often
the rain has something to say to me,
but this rainy day
it is hyperactively neurotic.
Each of my shoes are waterlogged
by a squelching sky-fall.

Then again there is the soggy dribble
when the flood falters
and it plugs the dripping air
only to burst out in hysterical torrents.

It is not mute,
it mutters and sprays wet words;
a babble of bellicose blather.

I am drenched in my own sweat,
as weepy warm sweepings
wash over me.

I was hoping that the last spatter
and squall of the day
would have something to say
but it only seemed to hint at:
'Coming back again."

Deep Sleep

She loved him deeply,
but her heart has been weepy.
She doesn't want to hurt anymore.
She feels like her heart is tore.
Now she feels sleepy.

The Value of Friends

There is much to be said about the value of friends
Those who lift us up when we try to make amends
A crutch to help us stand when we stumble and fall
Hit us with the power of truth, thrown like a fast ball

They offer welcoming shoulders to receive our tears, 
Teach us the importance of choosing to change gears
To stand with us against the barbs of disgruntled foes
Refrain from judging when we've caused other's woes

Those who are patient listeners, offering us their ears
They dry our weepy eyes, smile at us and say, "Cheers."
We love their tender mercies in forgiving us our faults
Honoring them humbles us, and their character it exalts.

This Sound You Are Making

This sound you are making
A fiddler plays.
A screechy joy. If one
That's highly strung!
Did you know that? Know this.
Boy, when a man
Chopin's weepy keyboard
A heart will hoard.

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