Whispered Poems - Poems about Whispered

Each night I call your name— and the floorboards creak their answer, settling into the weight of waiting. Your laughter breaks the silence like warm light spilling through my chest, where my ribs cage only echoes. In your gaze, dust motes pause mid-fall, suspended in the shaft of afternoon— then spiral again, small galaxies collapsing into light. You are the hand that steadies the trembling cup, the...

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Written: June 17, 2025, For contest Sponsored by: Brian Strand *************** longing goes On our warm kisses ...

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Once she whispered to me, with the voice of a breeze caressing the fields, "Why me? What is it in me that makes you love me?" And I could have given her a thousand reasons, told her about her grace, About her smile that rises like a gentle moon, about her voice that sings like a river, About her...

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Written: April 29, 2025, for Contest by Brian Strand ************************** diaphanous spirals of spectral ...

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In the quiet of the evening’s glow, Two hearts whisper promises, soft and slow. With every star that lights the night, Their love shines pure, a guiding light. The Dance of Hearts Upon the winds, their spirits fly, Twirling beneath the vast, open sky. In rhythm, their souls gently sway, In a dance of love, day by day. Timeless Embrace A love that transcends the...

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WHISPERED SHADOW She flaunts her way into my mind, A beautiful chaos, cruel yet kind. A disaster to see, a tale untold, A fire so warm, yet burning cold. Her scent lingers both day and night, A whispered ghost, a fleeting light. Her teeth peek softly through her smile, A charm that lingers all the while. She drifts like wind through fields so...

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he comes when the hush of midnight falls slipping through walls like a sigh in the air his touch is the ghost of forgotten calls fingers of frost in the silk of her hair he kneels where the candle’s shadow sways his breath like a whisper that never fades he murmurs her name in the hush of the haze his voice dripping...

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Wind howls along the cobbled street, Sin prowls where shadows twist and meet. Doors creak though none are standing near, Shores leak the mist that whispers fear. Lights fade as echoes start to grow, Nights trade their peace for something low. Steps sound but no one's in my sight, Breath drowned beneath the grip of night. 8X8x8x8 Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Charles Messina...

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Written: January 16, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Sara Kendrick ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When I'm aged echoes utter to unfold, I recall a time that was brief as flame, Humming of lapsed whispers reckon my...

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I’ve lost my heart among the woods, Where now it flutters in the drafts And moves about close secrets kept Within the floras’ whispered breath. I know because there glimpses break Between the bark-skinned living things, Where there it flows from one to next In jubilant discovery. I feel it yet, though standing yon, Of how the boughs absorb the sun Among the shafted beams...

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I've spoken to a raindrop; It listened so intently in its special way A life so blessed that I never want to end; my only wish is to stay I've whispered to a raindrop; it offered me seclusion in its special way Of my thoughts darkest collusion, a demon’s fire it would offer to slay I've confided in a...

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Judged 1. They are all liars, Talking about others Behind their backs, Thinking they are better. 2. But everyone has Their own faults. They don’t see The pain a person hides, Just because they’re smiling. 3. A day will come, A day when they are judged For all the things They have done. 4. All I feel for them is pity— Pity for the words They’ve spoken, For the things They’ve done. 5. Everyone has Their own flaws, Yet they still...

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The beginning of the world was a whispered verse, In a cosmic silence where stars barely dared to flicker, All that exists in the world was created by poetry: Gods and myths, legends and religions, Morality and politics, ideologies and history, Psychology and literature, art and culture, science and the infinite. In a primordial morning, the word was born from chaos, A...

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You whispered to me: "From where does this strange melancholy arise That ascends like a mountain on a silent, empty plain?" When the soul has finished its harvest, we feel Life is a wound. This secret we all know. It's a pure suffering, not at all enigmatic And clear, like you when you smile and brighten the world Don't search in...

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In the stillness of midnight, where time seems suspended and shadows dance with whispered secrets, My mind wanders through labyrinths of pain, finding solace in the depth of suffering. It is said that we heal from suffering only by experiencing it fully, And so, my soul embarks on a journey through the valleys of agony and the peaks...

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