Wilting Poems | Examples

Wilting

Pink snake in murky water 
Feminine 
Bite
scrapes face 
The voices of my children in a video
In early August 
I fear my memory is failing 
But I am so young 
Bruises riddle my knees 
Who hurt me? 
I walk through fog
Dayless daydream
Wilting

Wilting flowers

Wilted flowers
Wilted flowers lie in empty fields
Days pass as flies scour,
Leaving the decomposing ideas to be eaten.
The sun flickers as each minute weans by
An empty shell of you left in bloody waters.
A quiet silence crowding the space your words claimed.
The once blooming pedals, scorned by your nectar.
Craving the burn you bring into my veins; no longer able to be muzzled
A type of silent desire for chaos and destruction.
A desire for deforestation.
What started as weeds being plucked,
Turned to mowing down rose bushes.
Muddy boots left on waxed floors,
Destruction on the original wood grain that was once admired by generations.
Floors handcrafted from trees outside of what I wanted to call home.
Someplace silence was peace and peace was expected rather than craved.
Pruned roses left puddles of milkweed
Each droplet going sour the second it fell,
The bitter taste of cyanide leaked out of your pores into its water supply.
Empty plots. Pesticides. Ripped roots.

Without Mirrors

He forgot
how his jaw
used to stretch
in loud laughter.

No mirrors
to watch his days—
just windows,
and distant eyes.

His beard trimmed
by finger’s feel,
a chunk missed
Here and there.

He looked well
in belts and socks,
even handsome
under the sun.

No one asked
if he still knew
the shaded glint
in his own eyes—

the torn shape
of manly lips
once easily thinned
in witty smile.

He dressed
in shiny clothes,
well ironed out
but creased inside.

Sometimes,
he caught a flicker
in silvery spoons
he barely looked.

And so he lived
like seamless shape,
without his twin
staring in mirrors.

Long Hours and a few Dying Flowers

Long hours tick by, slow and cold
As petals drop, and beauty grows old
A few dying flowers, once full of grace
Now wilted, faded, without a trace

Of vibrancy, of life, of color bright
Leaving only memories, a distant light
The hours drag on, a relentless pace
As beauty fades, and time takes its place

Yet in the wilting, there's a strange allure
A poignant beauty, a fleeting allure
A reminder that life is short and sweet
And every moment, we must seize and greet

So let us cherish the flowers, dying though they be
And honor the hours, long and slow as they may be
For in their fragile beauty, we find a truth profound
That life is precious, and every moment, a treasure to be found.

Wilting Flower Petals

                                       Wilting Flower Petals
I count the men that leave me like a child would count wilting flower petals
Dried up, bereft of color and soul, that's how the petals leave the flower, all alone

Life seems to be a drifting montage 
Predestined and premade, I have no control over it
Just as the flower sits away, silent and silenced 
as the children pluck the petals away.

Wilting Flowers

Wilting Flowers

What in life is commonly shared
But to scream out in frustration together!

From this chair I watch the flowers droop
As useful purpose is cruelly removed,
While my freshness disappears,
Abhorrently, in sustained tears.

I scarcely question depression’s invasion
And try half-heartedly contemplating escapism.
It’s the complexity of organismal cannibalism
(Feeding on each other to thrive in this environment)
That bends my conscience, revealing nature’s intent
Of a point desperately sought, “called meaning.”

And then to be disappointed when it is discovered
That the answer lies in a vase of wilting flowers.

Wilting

I lift my face away from my screen
the morning light surprises me 
and fills the room
with a eerie comfort
I stumble to the kitchen
swallow my prescribed sanity

I don’t miss the sleep
just like I don’t miss you

no one notices the flowers are wilting
til they fade away

The Wilting of the Radiant Rose

Asian sun rises from the east
Rose seeds beneath the fence
For these petals are released

The perfumed smell of the rose lingers
The scene is hailed by the divine
Asian sun rises from the east

Although the rose has passed 
Its impression will remain
For these petals are released

Death has come and the rose withers
No other like it will be spotted
Asian sun rises from the east

The rose has moved on to another place
Tunnel of light is iridescent
For these petals are released

The Sun sets in the West
The rose is laid to rest
Asian sun rises from the east
For these petals are released

Wilting Life

 To think of wilting flowers, 
They say is a crime, 
Though I cannot help but, 
Dream of wilting all the time. 

Grey and pink foliage, 
State of half dead, half not. 
Dance and writhe to let go, 
A companion it sought. 

My once tinted cheeks stretch, 
To feel such a thing as love, 
As I alike the wilting flowers, 
Have the whole world to let go of.

Wilting

I wonder why I put myself through so much anxiety when I was growing up
My foot would reach for that gas pedal like my life depended on it 
The car would run across Orchard 
The song of choice would take every breath and throw it in front of me 
I would think of everything 
I would think of all the screaming 
I would think of all the pain that would choke me at night 
I would think of all the people who didn't know how they were affecting me 
I would think of all of the times the little girl would be hiding under her bed 
It seems almost as if my soul knew that It was better for me to get everything out back then 
It seems almost as if my soul knew that it was priming itself for the monster who would come around 
Even after everything
Even after I thought I found some time of peace 
It seems almost as if my soul is back on this track 
Every bone in my body screams to be back on that road

Canopy of Oaks

Under my Refuge
A canopy of Oaks
Sheltering from the blazing sunshine
Sheltering from the sweltering heat
That has put me to flight
To seek the solace of trees
Too much brightness, too much light
On this summers day

The trees are wilting
They have no water to drink
As on the grounds  leaves are falling
Carpeting the ground
The crow squawks for water
To quench its thirst
Maybe a splash
Farmers are harrowing 
But ploughs can barely scratch
The concrete hard dirt

The exercises once witnessed
Is a thing of the past
As the heat rages on in earnest
The acorns drops in submission
A gentle breeze rustling the carcasses of leaves
I can't  help being grateful
As it gathered speed 
To soothe and pamper
Fulfilling a need.
But of this canopy I am grateful
As it has eased my torment
Giving me a reprise.
Feels like a long lost friend visiting
Feels like from heaven sent.

The Garden of the Wilting Roses

fluttering patterns  

wear the beauty crown 

into the garden of 

the wilting roses.

Greeting the thorns  

with an aura of bliss 

that disarms them  

as they pass.



[2018]

Wilting Tulips

WILTING TULIPS

beauty in wilting tulips
pink and white pinstripes 
the relation with wrinkles

a soft tissue that wipes
away and leaves behind
cheek-y kisses of yesterday

a twinkle in the eye
rewind of the reel
that love remains
after each flower fades

5/31/2018

Wilting Flower

A purple flower
Always falling and drooping
Soon ready to bloom

Wilting Beneath Withered Wishes

Drained and dried by life then left to die
She lived to love; but oft was left to cry
Counseled to carry on she continues 
Shriveling as to She'ol her heart schuss

Holding on to hopes a hazard in her eyes
Immature and imbecilic it implies
Weary from wishing an end to her woe
she shelters her shredded spirit in shadow

Without febrility from festering passions to foil
unavowed feelings wilt under burnt umber soil 
As expectation of love's exalted expressions fades 
desires deaden; in desperation she no longer wades

03/25/2018

• Short Wilting Poems
• Famous Wilting Poems
• Best Wilting Poems
• Read Wilting Poems
• Long Wilting Poems
• Wilting Quotes