Woeful poems bring the best collection of short and long woeful poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great woeful rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these woeful poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on woeful are here for you.
Back in those old days, a wife awaits her husband on a stormy night, hoping for his safe return. .. Waiting for her love, an enigmatic sailor. In vain gowns and a luscious healthy pallor! The porch, radiant in jewels
Petersen House, Washington, D.C. (i admit to own a passion for the Civil War in general, and the life and death of the sixteenth president in particular). between a hard spot of whiskey and draughts of arrack nonetheless (without doubt),
Drop by drop they follow to shower, Sometimes heavy and sometimes slower. From the high to the low, Feeling the earth and to flow. Sounding in a delightful drizzle, Healing the land dry to mizzle. Little children way to home,
Sometimes she whispers in my ear, a tapestry of pain and fear whose warp and weft weave haunted days and nightmare dreams through woeful sobs and blooded screams; till phantoms from a private hell enshroud me in a chilling spell.
Trees toss their canopies horses shaking their manes all the manmade arbor street signs, power lines each motion exaggerated in woeful orange glow we’re smashing pumpkins torching porches huffing spraypaint and praying for violent excitement cops chase blue flashers and
And so ’tis done – drench is gone Salted spray no longer flies the wild air That grim Tempest, that did wax and surge deep, now makes only whispered remembrance of its fury and troubles not the delicate house of
A way to the outer world from inside Is the window – an agent certified; Gloomy, depressed, woeful world Is made happy with a small riptide Which comes to the sight of bide Who live in and try to bestride
You are the girl that make my stars collide. You are my heart’s desire, and also my lovely bride. Your smile moves evil people’s mind, into offering needy civilians a gift of a ride. You sometimes split your emotions into
The woeful world; Is transforming itself to a pale shadow of my dusking life Bright as a shimmering sunlight My homeless soul is withering with the rising moonlight. I see the gloominess of ice that surrounds my feeble unfair world
Outside, always looking in, A deafening silence encompasses the room. Inside, never turning around, Embellished laughter and empty smiles fortify a line of demarcation. Alone. The soot amasses dusty clouds, Engulfing the couches and various chairs. Never to be used,
The Seafarer I’ll tell you tales of times long past Of my long days before the mast With white clouds that flee by fast Sails billowing as huge winds blast Scrubbing the decks with pumice stone Thinking of my wife
When I met you for the first time You gifted me..My Basket of Dreams Long But Forgotten, Lost But Found ! Full of Bliss ..Thy Basket of Dreams Its Woven with silk of your reflection Its coated in pink, your
Don’t look deep into my eyes, who knows what you find inside? Is it the dreams that I lovingly hide, or are some demons residing inside. Am too afraid to let you know, Even too scared to make the show.
It should not have come early; the death, had insulted the terrible suffering. Shadows were lengthening. I wanted to live in infinite nothingness of the wrong time. Hope was not a perforated dimension, it was my religion. When nobody was
Blessed??? So called destiny pushed me to an end, Found comfort and peace in writing, Making Poetry my best friend. Revisiting the past had never brought solace, Penning each emotion, hurt and pain, Aided in ending the distress with absolute
The day I’ve looked to for years is now my dreaded bitter end. Melancholy incarnate, I feel nothing, much to my chagrin. My mind a wall, nostalgia the flood. Bursting through upon the hour. Bittersweet memories of you. The wall
The screams became louder, and he grew darker. Money which we call a sign of progress took its way through under table, The day rape victim was ashamed of herself, humanity went unstable. But let’s not focus about us because
Does your fancy wander in the moonlight, To grace my sleep and loiter in my dreams? Since then, your memory usurped that right, Such that my very fantasies it creams; My musings all converge on your aspect, To leave just
Notwithstanding the obvious and comforting Exceptions (exceptions die hard, don’t they?) The tycoons of luxury are not so different from Those operating in any other market segment. In the globalized economy, where the smart ones learn Quickly how to circumvent
All hail the King who gives thee numbers. Those who fear him shall stand beside him, And laugh with him, Only to be crushed by him like all other unsatisfactory numbers. Faces upon faces upon names upon names, Thrown into
I approach the 160° turn to the left, The public toilets, still there. Those strange, Striped warning poles and a sign in Old engineering font (like London Underground, but rusted) saying ‘STOP WHEN BELL RINGS’. Up its gentle elevation to
The world’s a puzzle of inconvenience The members who inhabit it are worse than fallen angels Ghoulishness, fears, abhorrence are their manifest examples And for them there’s palpably nothing like repentance Rare, are the souls who proliferate forbearance As malicious
Compliments are strangely empty The words mean nothing When the scars forever remain One glance at me, he bluntly uttered, I hope to own more beautiful than you My first love You devalued my existence To this day I look
How to begin the journey of truth? it was moving away from all paths. No concrete answers were there, questions loomed large, a moaning confusion reigned. I moved inward, to open the door, I had to talk to my poems.
Tonite she’ll again take her thoughts to bed Far away from fear Let it be surreal Her heart skips a beat When she meets her dream With the ticking clock She explores her thoughts Ahh she finds peace Long time
While going away from you These thoughts came impromptu I love you my lovely Chicku Your purity and purity of Holy fire are akin You are the most cute and innocent face I have ever seen I can listen to
The night was never caught so clear Each star was cast so crystalline, So much wrapped in black velvet shade Like moments clad in silken sheen, And evenings’ artists drew their pictures With their quill dipped in lunar ink With
The Argument The first canto proposes the entire subject matter through the first few lines, where is stated the tragic plight of those English people that went against Hades, the then wicked monarch of England, who, for the proclamation of
I stood on the over-bridge, yellow phosphorescence beckons– Round moon like bosom of goddess Venus , nipple for a touch; a lapwing cries over the night. A sudden rustle in the undergrowth awakened the ephemeral days of my youth, fallen
Sometimes lurking in corner. Sometimes tumbling down endlessly, and sometimes with frozen smile immolating oneself before an idol to be. He danced imprisoned in a glass case whole life. Overcoming the pretentious inhibition to stand naked in dimlights of arguments.