Woebegone Poems - Poems about Woebegone

Woebegone!

When the darkness colors the midnight skies
And all your blessings seem in the past, you surmise
The ache of heart who knows nothing but lies
Listen to the story of His glory – He never dies

When the worries grow harder and you feel defeated
And all your heartfelt yearnings are uncompleted
The heavy hand of doubt causes you to

Woebegone

No matter who you vote for
the government gets in
Left or right, day brings night
with colors gray and thin

The better parts of nature
get worse as time goes on
Bilateral infection
whose cure is woebegone 

As hubcaps change in order
the wheels forever spin
Tomato or tomatto
that same old song to sing 

A baby leaves its mother
new brick to build the

Woebegone

Sadness in
   his downcast eyes;
      in tears,
         devastated.

His four-legged friend,
   birthday gift,
      deceased;
         just buried.

Poor child,
   woebegone.
      He

Woebegone Love

My one true love is sadly gone,
a name upon stone I dwell on;
oh, do you recall the chiffon,
of my wedding dress in Bourgogne.
The green park in France and the swan,
since your death I have been withdrawn;
yes,  I am a girl woebegone,
and I dream all the night 'till dawn.
Oh, why is the grass like a

Woebegone

At first glance, it seems to imply that woe,
or extreme sadness, is gone. But let’s know
'wo' simply means "woe, and 'begon'
( from Old English began)
It means, "beset or surrounded by woe."
~X~X~X~

Wistful Woebegone Yesteryear

Perhaps like a lightning
bolt of clear out of the blue
rigor mortis (tenon and
three decades hence)
two thousand fifty nine if you
count from January 13th 2019, adieu

attest that day 9 months I did brew
in wound (of the late Harriet Harris),
now finds me loved ones
crying boo hoo,
after this stiff mortal
Earthling bid toodle loo

with symbolic casket
(carrying cremated urn of

Wallet Weeps As Woebegone Former Mister Or Missus Snake

Listen...carefully,
     and ye kin hear
the muffled (dollar us -
dolorous) sound ache
king plaintive very loosely
     analogous to duck cry

of mourning, didst awake
ken to the somber news
     solemnly shared by
me - Doctor Quackenbush,
sans strapping beefcake
quaking counterpart, thee

     lifetime beau he mien
(rhapsodic)

Woebegone

The land known as woebegone
Is a grim and forlorn place,
No good times, none at all
No smiles upon a face.

In woebegone dwells misery
A place where people scream,
And since my love, you left me
In woebegone, I've been.

There is a fabled realm called hope
Where dreams they say come true,
If I ever find it,
My love, will I find you.

Woebegone

Woebegone


Full fifty years ago, late summer, we had planted you...

two tiny, wispy saplings that would grow and grace our lawn.

But mother nature came...lashed her tornado to undue

your beauty with a monstrous hack that leaves us woebegone.



Sandra M. Haight

~2nd Place~
Contest: When A Fourth Line Helps It to Rhyme
Sponsor: Silent One
Heptameter - 7 feet, 9 syllables per

This Woebegone Friday Feeling

It's Friday and I am feeling so woebegone,
I woke today full of tragic melancholy;
the day is dark with rainfall and I have withdrawn.

I just want to hide so no-one sees my beauty,
oh please no men looking with lust-  women with hate;
I woke today full of tragic melancholy.

I look in the mirror trying to concentrate,
deciding

The Woebegone

The Woebegone

As wind begins to blow,
she sobs on her bed.
Is he alive or dead?
She wishes so to know. 
Doubts fill up her head.

To doom she seems bound.
Wind makes a mournful sound.
Snow cascading from dismal sky
like her woes - piled high -
buries everything on the ground.

Dec. 29, 2017 for Laura Loo's  10 Lines, 5 Words:

Woebegone

While destiny ditched me dearly in a dire domain
my lumbering life left me lovelorn in a languishing limbo, 
With all of my lackluster longing long gone
my haggard and heavy-laden heart hurts heartily.



~Alliteration contest by Barry Stebbings

The Woebegone Magician

Alfred was a man of magic; world-renowned was he.
Wealth and joy were his. Of sorrowing he could not conceive
until that day his one beloved, sweet May, died tragically.
No pretty scarves or flowers does he now pull from his sleeve.
Vanished is his smile. Woebegone without his wife, he can only grieve.

Written Oct. 26, 2016 for The

Woebegone Clouds

across the distance
the somber nimbus lean out
without outcast sun















3-21-2016

Woebegone

Rumpled clothes and dirty shoes
looking like he's heard bad news
eyes averted, face downcast
or is he hiding from his past?

Searching for a subway token
spirit crushed and heart that's broken
listening to the angel's voices
rotten luck or rotten choices?

Ruffled hair on balding pate
always looks like running late
tear tracks crust on wrinkled face
how did he end up in this

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