Woeful Poems - Poems about Woeful

The Haunting Gaze

Once upon a woeful early December night nigh,
Who am I, in this fateful time of scry’s reprise?
Over many a quaint reminisce of my ghostly past,
Suddenly, feel eyes piercing again, with no end.
I looked around, to no avail; my time has end.
 I turned and saw darkness cast.

As I went out in the dreary night, I

Echo of Lost Love

                                            Echo of Lost Love

       

woeful

on   a     s e a     of    w o e
    he    f   l   o   a   t   s   his longings
      

Woeful Winter

Winter - dreary, ever so cold and lonely
Wishing, hoping, suddenly gone...if only
Bear it, now that nobody cares to share it
Shivering, chilled and barren

Homestead -party, lavishly spread and happy
Christmas, drinking, cheerfully dancing, singing
Turkey, stuffing, family, all around me 
Terribly warm and caring

Leaving, grieving, wondering where I'm going 
Sneezing, freezing, lost in a blizzard, snowing
Falling, calling, icicles,

Woeful - Sg

The hushed cemetery green,
where birds sing doleful;
and thoughts weave labyrinthine,
oh, woeful, woeful.
Yet, sun is divine,
caressing my fallen tears
serenity ... mine.

____________
June 21, 2021


Poetry/Sequidilla/Rhyme/Woeful
Copyright Protected, ID 06-1265-878-21
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France 

Written for the Premier contest, Sequidilla
sponsor, William Kekaula, Judged 07/09/2021

First Place

Woeful Prayer

 
Oh, hear this woeful girl's prayer,
    such a deep sorrow sigh;
will this heart ever stop hurting,
  to Heaven these tears fly.

For here, I sit forlorn and lost,
    within this box of grief;
and fear another dawn and day,
  which brings impending fate.

Oh, I am stained with the

This Woeful Girl's Prayer

Oh, hear this woeful girl's prayer,
    such a deep sorrow sigh;
will this heart ever stop hurting,
  to Heaven these tears fly.

For here, I sit forlorn and lost,
    within this box of grief;
and fear another dawn and day,
  which brings impending fate.

Oh, I am stained with the blood,

Woeful Victory

(Lizzie Siddall, the Pre-Raphaelite artist's
model, has just married Dante Gabriel
Rossetti ... and now regrets it.)

Why could it not have been agreeable?
What steered me down this unforgiving cleft?
Was this misfortune not foreseeable?
Why can I find no crumb of comfort left?

I longed to find a lover, thoughtful, kind,
a husband who, attentive, understands:
but now the day has dawned

Predation In Woeful Times

Predation In Woeful Times
By Roy Merritt

Life is getting ghastly now
For few it seems sublime
Everyone engrossed with thoughts
Of predation in woeful times

In times like this trust for neighbors
Is a luxury you can’t define
You can’t depend on anybody
With predation in woeful times 

Who knows if some day soon
Some day just down the line
We’re all at each others

Woeful Hearts

Satan's spawns
Blast Angels to hell - 
Virgin spirits rise with
Burning sun melting
Woeful hearts

Philosophical Poetry Week: Woeful Wednesday

Sorrow at the state of the world
So much sadness simply hurled
At the TV, and life as we know it
Still has yet to be unfurled.

                Oh what is to be done?
          

Philosophical Poetry Week: Woeful Wednesday

Wednesday’s woe has come again
Washing o’er my longing brain
All the way down the long dark drain.
Sat on a bench with naught to gain,
I stare on bleakly in the rain.

But lo what thoughts do I ordain?
I stand, I sit, I do refrain
From leaving down that winding lane
Instead I go, to another plane
In which the moon is

Woeful Year

Farewell, thou woeful year,
Of your woes I got my full share
And grieved my heart in pain and care

But now, of your days, I have spend the last
That onwards you be known my past
As I, with glee, set my back upon your sight
And look ahead on tomorrow’s year
With the last shred of my bartered hope

It was

Woeful Vows

"Till death us do part"
Thus I stepped upon a trap;
Oh, Why I said that?
Now I wail to no avail,
Lo, my life is in shambles!



~A Brian Strand 1 to 14 line contest.

A Woeful Family 2k12

Herein the throes of our family's tragedy,
Herein our woeful daze, we're not the defeated
Nor victors; Simply the bearer's of tragedy.
Yes, Jonas was here; Thence we're the cheated.

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