Widows Poems - Poems about Widows

Widow’s walk frightens me Look outs are not my choice of tea Come on up to the crow’s nest! Mom’s idea is not the best I am frightened to death of tall heights I give her grief, whining, crying and lots of fights I well never be caught on a bell tower day or night. These heights give me a fright, they...

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What is it, this royal and ancient game that gets in your blood and under your skin? That invites in men’s hearts a peaceful aim till you shank one and your head starts to spin. Not just a game for sadists and man-boys though it helps if misery becomes you - new graphite, titanium and...

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widows speak their jargon we don’t all speak the same language they don’t understand me i don’t understand them i’m mystified to find they’re foreign to me we have in the end surprisingly little in common i hate platitudes i can’t seem to talk to anyone without getting frustrated things I guess are complicated subtle differences heightened come to a head no one it seems listens with their heart AP: Honorable Mention...

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Body Politic David J Walker The shooting never stops Until the bullets are all gone and the Bombs are all dropped on the city streets in the way of a foreign Body politic Declaring a breach of its borders And ironically orders an invasion So goes the persuasion of Defensive strategies and arguments Concerning armaments Employing the services of...

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Echummi was married even before she learnt to wear a saree and when she did learn she learnt to wear white only white and often when she passed a mirror what she saw would chill her spine.. A shaven head, bare hands and bare forehead Oh! how she would have loved to see colors.. A big red bindi, green bangles a purple saree- She was...

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The many widows have a lock on they mouth, The reason for widowhood will be deep hide. The killer helped ms Smith this position allowed, And for ms Jones helped just a dose cyanide....

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the widows’ club seasoned companions suitcases full of wit playmates up for adventure out for an escapade consortium of allies league of septuagenarians a powerhouse of wisdom tote travel bags of history AP: Honorable Mention 2020 Posted on February 24, 2020...

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The banker didn’t see me, but I saw. The bag behind the bush contained everything. Clothes. Food. Memories. Everything that was left of an indigent life. Forced to part with all their worldly possessions for a moment, perhaps to pee, perhaps to eat, perhaps to beg for widow’s mites, someone had hidden the bag under the bush like a broken wren, delicate, consecrated with the...

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beautiful red headed bucking star brilliant whorls- green aurora eyed quick minded sprinting faster than light thought I could tame it-bring it to the knees but she's also a teaser, artist supreme painter of widows and orphan dreams she bucked me off like all the rest into a black wall of red star regrets here we lie broken, gazing at the sky praying for...

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Even when the night air is calm and still you can hear the wailing of women from the past that flung themselves off of WIDOW'S HILL to the cold, cold ocean below and legend has it at Collinwood they're waiting for another jaded woman to join them at the bottom of WIDOW'S HILL where their restless spirits wonder still... Well listening to this tragic story gave...

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My husband is a shooter, Which isn't always fun, As every weekend He's out somewhere with his gun. So quality time together Can sometimes be quite sparse, "But I have to have a hobby." He tells me with a laugh. Our daughters getting married To a super guy called Tom, Has he any faults? I've discovered just the one. He also is a shooter, His hobby...

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Even when the night air is calm and still you can hear the wailing of women from the past that flung themselves off of WIDOW'S HILL to the cold, cold ocean below and legend has it at Collinwood they're waiting for another jaded woman to join them at the bottom of WIDOW'S HILL where their restless spirits wonder still... Well listening to this tragic story gave...

Continue reading...

Even when the night air is calm and still you can hear the wailing of women from the past that flung themselves off of WIDOW'S HILL to the cold, cold ocean below and legend has it at Collinwood they're waiting for another jaded woman to join them at the bottom of WIDOW'S HILL where their restless spirits wonder still... Well listening to this tragic story gave...

Continue reading...

She waits, and Oh so patiently! every day she looks, ("Oh, might I gloat?") for sight of that one trawler, 'The Forever,' cresting waves, he, wildly cursing, all the while he's still afloat, and every day she moans, "Oh, may he never..." Nails bitten to the quick, worrying her apron string or some small piece of fabric; she's constantly in hope the weather's kind, carelessly...

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She waits, and Oh so patiently! every day she looks, ("Oh, might I gloat?") for sight of that one trawler, 'The Forever,' cresting waves, he, wildly cursing, all the while he's still afloat, and every day she moans, "Oh, may he never..." Nails bitten to the quick, worrying her apron string or some small piece of fabric; she's constantly in hope the weather's kind, carelessly...

Continue reading...