Worn Poems - Poems about Worn

John Michael Osbourne looks so tired and worn when asked to respond he could only say something no one could understand ...

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Is that ok to live with all the same conclusions Or is it like worn clothes when you do not Care what to wear in your goddamn seclusion And like the old familiar recipies you’ve got You see no change, its all the same old stories Most likely, you can’t notice any changes For otherwise it goes to different category You...

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O Lord, 'Tis a decade gone Since thy curse fell upon us. The malnourished children are no more, The poor soil lieth barren. Lord, what hast thou wrought upon our village? Mine only companions be the flies and the toads. Thy shadow resteth beside mine empty grave. I am not wroth with thee, Yet surely have I all the right to be so....

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This morning, I packed my soul into a backpack worn by unfulfilled dreams, Leaving behind the noise of the city that grinds my existence like a rusty windmill. I set out on unknown roads, where silence weaves spider webs between reality and dreams, And my shadow dances alone on the hot asphalt, like a memory from a future...

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The chains of yesterday, now worn and frail, Once heavy, they are lightened with each day. In freedom's early light, our hearts set sail. New dawns unfold with skies of hopeful blue, Each sunrise brings fresh dreams to light anew. The world awaits a chance to start anew. Yet echoes of the past can softly bind, Whispers of old fears that linger...

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A silent cry never heard, a tear shed without a single word, You'll only see her smile. A fragile heart filled with scars, bruised and beaten and Simply marred. You'll only see her smile. Shadows and nightmares consume her thoughts, the demons prey her soul is lost. You'll only see her smile. Stitched together with...

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"The Heart Worn Lips" She wore her heart on her lips as she spoke the white owl sitting on one shoulder hooting wisdom the black crow perched on the other hidden in shadow cawing dark things the voice made moderate in the in-between rolling out into the aether words like dice flying to land like black-winged strokes on a wholesome alabaster...

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Well worn and read, “The Pearl.” The end. I’ll start at the beginning. Strung pearls around my neck - I dare to wear them to the library. My coworker has to tell me, she only wears hers to church. Well, I’ll be. These came straight from China, not free but not expensive. Sparknotes, my friend, reminds me that a great find, a precious jewel might hang about...

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wooden spoon worn smooth calloused hands’ enduring tool sleeps in a drawer...

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"Shawl" - comes from the Persian word "šal," meaning a piece of fabric worn around the shoulders or head. A Brief History of Being Worn "Shawl" Materially I wished to capture daydreams Protect thoughts from inclemency The shawl between it all and it is That's the way it started I'm worn, worn out, begin again A thing of intricate beauty...

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camouflaged hiding fence links used to sharpen teeth and scratch behind ears...

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ragged wooden fence playground for passing squirrels eyesore for owner...

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Once again, worn out From the simple act of living Blown out of all held dear Waves come and go Stretching across time and space A tragic loss here A triumphant gain there And still the waves come Lapping at a shore That is time itself Manifest in a million little grains Lapping as I lay exhausted Too tired to think, too tired to feel Anything...

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My workouts just get tougher, The older that I get. All the pains that I suffer, Just trying to stay fit. Wish I felt just like I did, More than thirty years ago. Back when I was still a kid, And my muscles still would grow. Even though I don't look bad, For someone of my age. The knowledge makes me sad, That it's time to...

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I live in rooms housed in the interior, some just small cells cut into bone, spaces barely big enough to fit a soul. Others offer more with sweeping views of oceans, mountains, waterfalls spilling endlessly over sun drenched escarpments and long corridors leading to nowhere and everywhere with mirrors splitting the mind into light. There are rooms groaning under the weight of books, learnings spun like sticky webs that hold...

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