Withering Poems - Poems about Withering

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A Closing Reflection Is it not true that we look for forgiveness for our feigned ignorance's For the hypocrisies we allowed because they served us? We ask to be forgiven Not because we changed But because we are afraid of what’s coming. As if the Earth were a mother Who always welcomes us home Even when we’ve burned the field. But forgiveness is no longer...

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Everything comes to an end flowers wither and die leaves wither from trees falling to the ground our bodies wither with age and find their resting place...

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This river is full of bodies, dead fish, dead fishermen. This river crumbles its banks, it invades in trickles, sluggishly it engulfs. Once it deeply flowed then death withered the water. The bodies, the dead fish, the fishermen, all float upon its turgid path. Where it goes no one knows, for its long journey is too slow, too polluted to measure. Only the dead now catch each other....

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Don't want to be reductionist obeying only secularized rules Would prefer to grow more sacred inductionist rediscovering golden win/win tools For imagining and re-membering why win/win ancient relationships, like space and time, humane and divine here and there circle and square pole and hole purpose and goal Feel more sacred than win/lose dueling competitions seem routinely dissonant Despite StraightWhite Paternalistically Capitalist secular indoctrination disrespecting ecofeminist experiences of resonantly resilient compassionate relationship elationships Guiding sacred inductive curiosity to restore eternal...

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These falling petals Continue to write my story Each one, has its own fragrance Some smell pretty, while other rot away I'm slowly exposing myself As these petals fall Landing where they must I'm trusting the process of withering Soon I'll be naked and shivering All these flowers lay on the floor One day soon, I will have no more I...

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D irections of our lives seem futile and our hearts obstructed. E very person, every woman, every child, every M an has lost the freedom that was promised - now corrupted, O bliterated by those whose rigid rules destroy our memories C asting our will, our dreams, our freedom aside R elinquishing our...

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Time… Wilts away Memories… Fading moments of a better yesterday Life… Constrict in place for your freedom Society… Deterioration of its innocence Leaders… Decay the ability to make a difference Friendship… Shriveled from the distance Earth… Wasting away My soul… Disintegrate...

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withering flowers dying crumbling to pieces melancholy, anguish, sadness, grief decay ruination summer ending trees shedding rainbow leaves swirling, twirling, whirling, spinning withering __________________ July 22, 2021 Poetry/Double Cinquain/withering ruination Copyright Protected, ID 07-1375-126-22 All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France Written for the Standard contest, A Brian Strand July 24 sponsor, Brian Strand First Place...

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Possibly, today, I pray you and I don’t fade Mold me like your clay Oh, maybe someday, I’ll no longer be afraid Bolden me up today After my sins be paid... I’m still withering away Clouds fade where I laid I feel so betrayed My day turns to black and gray We’re flawfully made Say, if I let go, Will you save me from being ill? Be still, that...

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Farewell to the withering of Autumn days its bare branched trees and fields of maize to the ripened acorns, hoarded by squirrels and chimneys belchng black smoke curls Goodbye to Fall's colors and pumpkin spice Soon to succumb to Winter's sleet and ice In silence, snow covers the ground, completely I fold away memories of Autumn, discreetly I find solace that fallen leaves...

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You can tell him no but the training wheels on his head spin on, he thinks you don’t mean it, that you don’t mean a thing even when that ‘thing’ is a tense bubble of spitting camels. He just keeps on talking as if you had never said so or he had not glimpsed bared broad yellow teeth. He is an old branch...

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A wall in the wood now stands like a ghost, A red-brick snake-ghost, threatening to toast – To drown dwellers in a sea of dreadful appall, And wither them all by being a mending wall. Oct. 14, 2020 Rithimus Divisa 10 Poetry Contest Contest Sponsor: Gregory R Barden Original poem: A Wall in the Wood Posted on Oct. 10,...

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the lake is withering. look at this earth. midnight is as the last day of a carnival. dressed in sad birth and sad death, children play with the pointed toad. falling from the flash flood of spiders. banks claim the brush each summer. high school ladders have no step upward. a tour of the reservation...

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