"cryless" poems - Hello Poetry

What a waste Waste of beauty, potentials and dreams I guess she had plans for the future like you and me What to do and what to be like a dust blown into the air They're now ascended into space Ourselves we must now brace Her demise a hidden message only for an eloquent ace But don't stop trusting in his(God) imminient grace For she has gotten to the end of her very race The day will wake and she will not stir You will call her name but she lay still Glance At her preferred spot and she's not there You will gaze upon her meadow saffron but she won't care Because She has gone into the darkness But her smile in our hearts remainst the brightest I will miss her the slightest So I write you dry your tears While she's laid to rest I urge you cryless

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Oct 14, 2020

Oct 14, 2020 at 6:16 PM UTC

Maryclinton

Cryless

What a waste Waste of beauty, potentials and dreams I guess she had plans for the future like you and me What to do and what to be like a dust blown into the air They're now ascended into space Ourselves we must now brace Her demise a hidden message only for an eloquent ace But don't stop trusting in his(God) imminient grace For she has gotten to the end of her very race The day will wake and she will not stir You will call her name but she lay still Glance At her preferred spot and she's not there You will gaze upon her meadow saffron but she won't care Because She has gone into the darkness But her smile in our hearts remainst the brightest I will miss her the slightest So I write you dry your tears While she's laid to rest I urge you cryless

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Fall cause the leaves are falling Turn cause the leaves are turning Be gentle like the wind that's blowing Be quiet like nature's snoring Throwing acorns may be boring But the squirrels are the ones really scoring Baby chipmunks too Cryless skies of baby blue Oh, I just urn to see you This season makes me sink in memories Hell, it takes me deep into my feelings But sweater weather is fun It's cold while you have warm sweaters on Couldn't be a better season

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Oct 30, 2015

Oct 30, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC

Chalsey

Autumn

Fall cause the leaves are falling Turn cause the leaves are turning Be gentle like the wind that's blowing Be quiet like nature's snoring Throwing acorns may be boring But the squirrels are the ones really scoring Baby chipmunks too Cryless skies of baby blue Oh, I just urn to see you This season makes me sink in memories Hell, it takes me deep into my feelings But sweater weather is fun It's cold while you have warm sweaters on Couldn't be a better season

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The tingling sensation, it feels cold, but it's the homiest feeling I've had since I was six years old A crater large bowl full of emptiness A sleepless night over other's carelessness Lists of excuses and procrastination Time wasted on wishful imagination Cryless eyes and tearless faces Unmade tries and changeless races Running time and short ends No traces

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Jul 18, 2015

Jul 18, 2015 at 8:46 PM UTC

Chalsey

HoleHearted

The tingling sensation, it feels cold, but it's the homiest feeling I've had since I was six years old A crater large bowl full of emptiness A sleepless night over other's carelessness Lists of excuses and procrastination Time wasted on wishful imagination Cryless eyes and tearless faces Unmade tries and changeless races Running time and short ends No traces

9

A patch on my shirt was growing. I could not, because I did not want to remove it. I took everything, without choosing, a flag of my territory fluttered without wind. Like a marooned kiss on fainted lips cryless eyes. The body fails, climacteric defeat evident. A satellite crashes in midsky. A star in waste was rising. Multiple setbacks start, like the botched transplant. Thieves were active in dark alleys. Kicked at slump bodies, like sleeping on road. I was always afraid of unknown.

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Mar 16, 2017

Mar 16, 2017 at 12:53 AM UTC

satsih-verma

Afraid Of Unknown

A patch on my shirt was growing. I could not, because I did not want to remove it. I took everything, without choosing, a flag of my territory fluttered without wind. Like a marooned kiss on fainted lips cryless eyes. The body fails, climacteric defeat evident. A satellite crashes in midsky. A star in waste was rising. Multiple setbacks start, like the botched transplant. Thieves were active in dark alleys. Kicked at slump bodies, like sleeping on road. I was always afraid of unknown.

18

A patch on my shirt was growing. I could not, because I did not want to remove it. I took everything, without choosing, a flag of my territory fluttered without wind. Like a marooned kiss on fainted lips cryless eyes. The body fails, climacteric defeat evident. A satellite crashes in midsky. A star in waste was rising. Multiple setbacks start, like the botched transplant. Thieves were active in dark alleys. Kicked at slump bodies, like sleeping on road. I was always afraid of unknown.

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Mar 13, 2017

Mar 13, 2017 at 8:37 PM UTC

satsih-verma

Afraid Of Unknown

A patch on my shirt was growing. I could not, because I did not want to remove it. I took everything, without choosing, a flag of my territory fluttered without wind. Like a marooned kiss on fainted lips cryless eyes. The body fails, climacteric defeat evident. A satellite crashes in midsky. A star in waste was rising. Multiple setbacks start, like the botched transplant. Thieves were active in dark alleys. Kicked at slump bodies, like sleeping on road. I was always afraid of unknown.

18

There is pain further than pain. There is a mechanical pain, a pain that hurts not hurting at all, making you go along life but missing something deep. There is a beatless pain. There is a pain grabbing you by the throat. But silently, so you can't yell. There is a pain not too big, it never fully seizes, but it is there. Constant turning of the ***** that won't make you cry, but they do oppress. Obsess. Obsess. Obsess. They oppress like few things more. You cried in pain, and you discover now there are worst realities than pain: the cryless anguish, the wordless complaint, the oblivion of loss. Will you come out of this? Most important of it all: who will come? Will you come out alive? And the ghosts of the past, alive tonight Me, looking at daddy's *** Me, thinking I am a necrophile Me, swooning over Gaspard Ulliel Me, being free Me, signing my death Me, in your bed -happy like I had never been- Me, lost in the dark convoluted corridors Me, about to break in parts Me, 14 in the car, daddy is telling me that if I go madder he'll get mad in turn Me, going psychotic Me, atonement by the flesh And nothing could be worst than this the past all over me No way to flee...

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Nov 21, 2018

Nov 21, 2018 at 5:08 PM UTC

courtney-olanzapine

Obsess/Ghosts

There is pain further than pain. There is a mechanical pain, a pain that hurts not hurting at all, making you go along life but missing something deep. There is a beatless pain. There is a pain grabbing you by the throat. But silently, so you can't yell. There is a pain not too big, it never fully seizes, but it is there. Constant turning of the ***** that won't make you cry, but they do oppress. Obsess. Obsess. Obsess. They oppress like few things more. You cried in pain, and you discover now there are worst realities than pain: the cryless anguish, the wordless complaint, the oblivion of loss. Will you come out of this? Most important of it all: who will come? Will you come out alive? And the ghosts of the past, alive tonight Me, looking at daddy's *** Me, thinking I am a necrophile Me, swooning over Gaspard Ulliel Me, being free Me, signing my death Me, in your bed -happy like I had never been- Me, lost in the dark convoluted corridors Me, about to break in parts Me, 14 in the car, daddy is telling me that if I go madder he'll get mad in turn Me, going psychotic Me, atonement by the flesh And nothing could be worst than this the past all over me No way to flee...

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