Sympathy Words Poems | Examples
These Sympathy Words poems are examples of Words poems about Sympathy. These are the best examples of Words Sympathy poems written by international poets.
Madness~
wrought from the
inexplicability of
seeming separation~
and futile searching
for a fulfilling
explanation~
some set of words
rewarded from a
satisfying diligence
yielding at last~
Madness~~
It's all in the eyes
You will know the truth
Tears cannot lie how much
Pain the heart express inside
How deep is the longing
You see how weary the eyes is
The response of the opposite
Meet the eyes that speak sympathy
Sparkling eyes speaks ecstasy
A joy unspeakable, an embrace lock
A lonely eyes suggest kindness
Need tight embrace for empathy
An angry eyes ignite fire blaze
A revengeful, destructive malady
Eyes speak love, betrayal and sadness
It never lie but express varied meaning
But loving eyes wins all knees to bend for glory.
Inscrutable
Not knowing
An impossibility of
Words which try to
Touch on the
Immediacy
Of thoughts and
Emotions arising
From viewing
A single face..
An appearance of
Everyone...
The most seductive words of love
are whispered in silence...
with the look!
If you are afraid
to seem confused and crazy,
don't love...!
Love does not have
parameters, measure
love cannot be measured
Dying of love
for those who love it seems too much
but living with love is much better
Fighting for love is valid
succumb to him
it's not really worth it
What do we do for love
it's further
of good and evil!
Suffer in the present
for a love from the past
is bringing back erased memories
so simple and so
I love you
r is always wonderful
for those who are not afraid to love
Strophe
O Grandpa Davis who gave me my skill
My art talents ,organic, came from you
Sorry I haven’t praised you ,now .I will
Your art and talents I admire you so
Your art is an inspiration to me,
Once I lost my home; most of your art gone,
It should have been enjoyed for all to see ,
T’is a wicked act ; I do frown upon.
Antestrope
Talent is work and some inspiration ,
Organic ability not much proof ,
Work hard with lift no misinformation ,
If you believe all of it you got spoofed.
And talent is one percent makes art great.
And work is sixty percent of one’s art ,
And skill is forty percent I state,
All three in harmony is a good start.
Epode
O Grandpa Davis I wish you were alive ,
If dreams are gold meeting you is jive,
You died 5 years before I was born .
Seeing your art I was wowed-forgot to mourn.
In figure drawing your skill is mythic
Your pastel work of your wife is terrific
And Grandpa Davis my ode to you is done,
It’ is time I penned it for everyone.
Words' sad burden
Most stay clear of
When asked, in leaning, to bear.
Yet when tear-dropped
Of greater weight
Do rush, their support to share.
I called mom early this morning
I am coming home mama don’t worry
Yes ,Yes, tomorrow most probably
At this point I am seated on the balcony
Ten stories high on the city canopy
Gin, some pills to tone down the sea sympathy
I forgot to tell her that really
I was coming home in a coffin.
Journeys and paths
Seem as favored reporting..
Excursions in and out
Of shifted experience..
A story of freedom:
No-shift may appear as a shift
Or a lost shift...
You know you're in trouble
When folks burst your bubble
That your fine English accent
Most others lament.
Their eyes grow far larger
Their countenance harder
As they gaze with intent
To listen hell bent.
Their attention a treasure
At first such a pleasure
Until one quite grasps
Their facial contrasts.
As you blabber away
Their head starts to sway
To the tones of your words
Like a flock of wild birds.
Too late you catch on
Their attention long gone
It seems they got stuck
In your sonnet like muck.
Shakespeare or Keats
Moved out by those Tweets
Leaves you silently grasping
And for sympathy asking.
Your hope turns to prayer
That perhaps they'll forbear
Whilst you fast learn their lingo
To squirm out of limbo.
For the speech we hold dear
The moral's now clear
If you want to converse
Just don't do it in verse.
How does one define
great poetry? The best
rhyme in time? A musical
phrase that stays, reverberates
within the catacombs of a Devotee's
celestial sign, lubricating his every thought
as a priest's wine, sipping while he prays,
saturating his blood with the effervescence
of an all loving, redeeming deity; who knows
well His creation's need for affirmation, the urge
to write; so invented He, neat words in sympathy
to both inspire and delight –
Or is great poetry
more antithetical?~ no conscious effort
to unseal, for never prescriptively hermetical –
a sacrilege if sanitized like something
contrived for medically medical; enters the lull
like a masked virus in the night, awakening soundly
sleeping hands to their inherent flight~ a light
clicked on to feverishly, tappingly, divinely compose;
such all powerful driving might, pouring
out of every orifice I suppose: from one's mind,
eyes, lips, punctuating backside and
imperfect often grossly ventilating nose....
oblivious
we are oblivious to it all, the death, the lies, the cries of nature and spirits among mankind, powerful sweet repose we will regret our oblivious nature when the bill comes due and we pay dearly with our lives for our folly and blind mentality…
denial of truth, science, and the corruption of faith WE climb into our ivory towers and join our tribes of national identity or truth and humanity and throw stones and sticks or pull semi-automatics to prove one is bigger than the other a measuring match...
still, just a primitive primate screaming in the room of technology we are oblivious to our own reek of insanity, industry, or denial of facts over fiction we are oblivious to it all, the death, the lies, the cries of nature and spirits among mankind, in powerful sweet repose we lie...
here upon the stone inscribed the words of humanities demise the epitaph of DOOM, here we lie in oblivion because we were afraid to love oneself or one another WE were oblivious
to all…
Distance is my voice
Along this ancient course
In caverns of my night
It fades as the echoes die
In the deepest part if my night
Only my sight plays over
Shadows of a distant day
Echoes die as I emerges into
My darkest dream and
Silently scream into the void of inner soul
Distant is my voice
Along this ancient course
I have tread a winding bitter path
Into darker past my echoes lie
Distant is my voice
Along this ancient course
Sorry you must go through the pain of the loss of your loved one.
Try to keep in mind that after the pain has eased you will realize the opportunity your loved one has just given you.
Take care of yourself so you can be ready to be the best you are,
to make their memory live on.
" That memory may be the strength someone else will need."
The unexpected words of gratitude
come out of the mouths that receive kindness;
I have noticed puzzled and despised looks
from some aquaintances and friends
who seemed baffled by my thankfulness
and honesty for being a very grateful dude.
Let them call me an imbecile or an idiot,
someone who values others' generosity;
they didn't provide for my needs in my strife!
I won't regret anything that feels right;
how could their greediness ignore my necessity,
if they never thought about my demise?
Is personal happiness a source of harmony,
if there's no willingness to share prosperity?
Give some of it away to make someone happy;
what good is it to have luck and be so greedy?
A treasure has to be guarded constantly from thieves
who can figure it out how to steal it with slickness.
Written on 8/28/2020
Defeated , deflated,
despondent, degraded,
All fun out the door,
Am I mad to want more?
Hyenas all circling,
Baying and burbling,
They hunt for a thrill
The chase and the kill.
Bombarded, lambasted,
Prodded and tested,
My world pandemonium,
Surrounded by odium.
I've worked and I've tried
For greatness I've strived,
So little compassion
Today's angry fashion.
All I now say,
All I now do,
Battered and burned,
No sympathy earned.
Yet on I go,
I toil and I sow,
For a better tomorrow
Masking my sorrow.
But let the chips fall,
I'll weather this squall,
I'm great at this game
Who then will they blame?