Wept Poems

What My Mother Does After My Father's Death

She finds a bird
fallen from its nest,
crashed like an apple

to the ground.
Sliding her fingers through
the rain soaked grass,

she scoops the quivering 
ball of feathers into her palm.
She takes it inside, to the same kitchen

where she wept
over her dead husband 
every night for nearly a decade.

She feeds it baby formula 
from an eye-dropper, whispering
I believe in

Contentment

I had overeaten.
So I reached inside myself
And pulled up whatever could be pulled up
From strength that I could muster up
I labored long and hard
And eventually brought forth
Snow capped mountains
And sky scrapers dignified by the rays of the sun
And the tallest pines with cones intact
And stars draped with clouds, silver lined
And song birds with half-sung melodies

Tears

So many tears – throughout the years
Tears of doubt when I hoped to find out
That love would win – against my sin
Tears of yearning in my heart, gently burning
Filling me with an ache – but I didn’t break
Tears of compassion who’re never out of fashion
Though understanding left my soul withstanding

So many tears who could quiet

Unsent Letters

Those who’ve gone on before me… what I would have liked to have told them – in those unsent letters, those unwritten stories, those unbroken promises, those unsteady poems, those unbleached memoirs – before the grief felt like I’d been struck by a train going way beyond its tracks, way beyond its route, way beyond

as the sun rose the darkness wept

As the sun rose the darkness wept
As it set it crept back into that darkness

An old wolf wondered
“what really happened?”
“had he been raised
…by humans!!”

He could not return to the den
For he was a “self-cast” outcast
Uncomfortable with “wolf” ways

Oh, he howled
But not at the moon

He howled at the wind
For it had no past
Existed only here….now

Growled at

26-7-2024 Twin Cities

1.)
Slept most of my life 
Forget the stress 
The best kind of strife is the kind kept repressed 
Every guy just gotta accept we’re inclined to becoming depressed 
You’ll never cry 
Except if you gotta a good reason why 
Keep your eye dressed 
If you’re clever 
You’ll keep your tears dry 
I’ve wept without the

Guitar Wept

Concert is in hype
As guitar wept by Jimmy
Audience high impact.

A Bugle Wept

   A lone bugle wept as it wrapped
    its plaintive message ‘round her heart 

   Why relentless drumbeats for another
    raised hope anew for her brother

   Is not ours to fathom unless 
     we close our eyes to death

With Tears

Silent tears hold the loudest pain - author unknown.


Just when I think no one will know,
There comes a soft and gentle flow,
Silently sighing o’er the light,
Stirring my heart’s kindness to glow.

Reflected on moments so bright,
Painting my soul with dreams I write,
Vows broken never can reveal,
Spoken by those who know my plight.

Wonders, breathless, are quite real,
Capture

One More Day

One more day I slept serene,
while some where distant bombs
and screams awaken others from their dreams..
One more day I quenched my thirst
while others trapped and feared the worst,
living out war's curse.
One more day I tidied, swept, while elsewhere
children died, mothers wept,
cried in anguish, so bereft..
One more day my skies were blue.
I ventured out with things

Laughter Minichu

he went to see his bride	.	
		finding a wig on his round, shining bald head, she
		loudly cried.		

		he felt ashamed,
	 	as he was caught red handed, he
		proclaimed					

		inept,			
		on the spot, he                       
		wept
										
		he went to see his

Soul, Where Art Thy

Soul, Soul, where art thee?

I lie sleepeth, in the halls of
the underworld, as my spirit 
roam freely, reincarnating 
as different beings, going 
in and out of existence.

When the flower of life,
gives life, my soul awakens
from a deep rooted sleep.
As I travel down the vine,
matter begins to shape
and mold me, as
a body awaits for my return.

Bright

Weary Soldiers Wept

eleventh month of nineteen eighteen,
eleventh day and hour striking,
weary soldiers wept, relieved,
as armistice took root
and guns gone silent
raised a stillness
well-heard by
trench and
grave


November 10, 2022
A November Nonet Poetry Contest,
Andrea Dietrich, sponsor

She Wept

She wept~

Tears of pain

Tears of loneliness

Tears of despair

Tears of distain

She wept~

Vagabond Conquistadors

Vagabond Conquistadors
David J Walker

Having wept
	And slept
At the bottom of the canyon
I’ve become the climber 
	Of mountains

Where I may see for myself
	The residents of the clouds
And find that 
It is a lonely place
	Unaccustomed to the resonances 
Of habitation as

It moves on
Without the vagabond 
conquistadors
Claiming clouds 
in the name of Christ

I have flown and fallen twice
For the

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