Poems About Moving On Published by Members Recently Online
#MovingOn
Poems about moving on published by members recently online.
Drift Bottle
I’ve been holding onto
your fading beams,
like the setting sun,
for too long.
Perhaps it’s time for me
to let you go
in a drift bottle.
With the waves setting you free,
and your memory,
forever treasured with me.
your fading beams,
like the setting sun,
for too long.
Perhaps it’s time for me
to let you go
in a drift bottle.
With the waves setting you free,
and your memory,
forever treasured with me.
#bittersweet
#memories
#MovingOn
72 reads
Drift Bottle
I’ve been holding onto
your fading beams,
like the setting sun,
for too long.
Perhaps it’s time for me
to let you go
in a drift bottle.
With the waves setting you free,
and your memory,
forever treasured with me.
your fading beams,
like the setting sun,
for too long.
Perhaps it’s time for me
to let you go
in a drift bottle.
With the waves setting you free,
and your memory,
forever treasured with me.
#bittersweet
#memories
#MovingOn
72 reads
Drift Bottle
I’ve been holding onto
your fading beams,
like the setting sun,
for too long.
Perhaps it’s time for me
to let you go
in a drift bottle.
With the waves setting you free,
and your memory,
forever treasured with me.
your fading beams,
like the setting sun,
for too long.
Perhaps it’s time for me
to let you go
in a drift bottle.
With the waves setting you free,
and your memory,
forever treasured with me.
#bittersweet
#memories
#MovingOn
72 reads
My Last Garden
I walked through the garden this morning
the flowers all bent their colors drained
by a sun that no longer remembers how to shine
the ground once soft beneath my feet
feels hollow now like something taken away
before I knew I had lost it
The roses don’t bloom the way they used to
their petals bruised from too much waiting
their fragrance gone leaving only a bitter taste
on the air the trees no longer whisper
secrets to the wind they are silent
and bent like old bones
holding on to something they cannot name
I don’t...
the flowers all bent their colors drained
by a sun that no longer remembers how to shine
the ground once soft beneath my feet
feels hollow now like something taken away
before I knew I had lost it
The roses don’t bloom the way they used to
their petals bruised from too much waiting
their fragrance gone leaving only a bitter taste
on the air the trees no longer whisper
secrets to the wind they are silent
and bent like old bones
holding on to something they cannot name
I don’t...
#acceptance
#emptiness
#FeelingLost
#grief
#MovingOn
41 reads
My Last Garden
I walked through the garden this morning
the flowers all bent their colors drained
by a sun that no longer remembers how to shine
the ground once soft beneath my feet
feels hollow now like something taken away
before I knew I had lost it
The roses don’t bloom the way they used to
their petals bruised from too much waiting
their fragrance gone leaving only a bitter taste
on the air the trees no longer whisper
secrets to the wind they are silent
and bent like old bones
holding on to something they cannot name
I don’t...
the flowers all bent their colors drained
by a sun that no longer remembers how to shine
the ground once soft beneath my feet
feels hollow now like something taken away
before I knew I had lost it
The roses don’t bloom the way they used to
their petals bruised from too much waiting
their fragrance gone leaving only a bitter taste
on the air the trees no longer whisper
secrets to the wind they are silent
and bent like old bones
holding on to something they cannot name
I don’t...
#acceptance
#emptiness
#FeelingLost
#grief
#MovingOn
41 reads
My Last Garden
I walked through the garden this morning
the flowers all bent their colors drained
by a sun that no longer remembers how to shine
the ground once soft beneath my feet
feels hollow now like something taken away
before I knew I had lost it
The roses don’t bloom the way they used to
their petals bruised from too much waiting
their fragrance gone leaving only a bitter taste
on the air the trees no longer whisper
secrets to the wind they are silent
and bent like old bones
holding on to something they cannot name
I don’t...
the flowers all bent their colors drained
by a sun that no longer remembers how to shine
the ground once soft beneath my feet
feels hollow now like something taken away
before I knew I had lost it
The roses don’t bloom the way they used to
their petals bruised from too much waiting
their fragrance gone leaving only a bitter taste
on the air the trees no longer whisper
secrets to the wind they are silent
and bent like old bones
holding on to something they cannot name
I don’t...
#acceptance
#emptiness
#FeelingLost
#grief
#MovingOn
41 reads
My Last Garden
I walked through the garden this morning
the flowers all bent their colors drained
by a sun that no longer remembers how to shine
the ground once soft beneath my feet
feels hollow now like something taken away
before I knew I had lost it
The roses don’t bloom the way they used to
their petals bruised from too much waiting
their fragrance gone leaving only a bitter taste
on the air the trees no longer whisper
secrets to the wind they are silent
and bent like old bones
holding on to something they cannot name
I don’t...
the flowers all bent their colors drained
by a sun that no longer remembers how to shine
the ground once soft beneath my feet
feels hollow now like something taken away
before I knew I had lost it
The roses don’t bloom the way they used to
their petals bruised from too much waiting
their fragrance gone leaving only a bitter taste
on the air the trees no longer whisper
secrets to the wind they are silent
and bent like old bones
holding on to something they cannot name
I don’t...
#acceptance
#emptiness
#FeelingLost
#grief
#MovingOn
41 reads
My Last Garden
I walked through the garden this morning
the flowers all bent their colors drained
by a sun that no longer remembers how to shine
the ground once soft beneath my feet
feels hollow now like something taken away
before I knew I had lost it
The roses don’t bloom the way they used to
their petals bruised from too much waiting
their fragrance gone leaving only a bitter taste
on the air the trees no longer whisper
secrets to the wind they are silent
and bent like old bones
holding on to something they cannot name
I don’t...
the flowers all bent their colors drained
by a sun that no longer remembers how to shine
the ground once soft beneath my feet
feels hollow now like something taken away
before I knew I had lost it
The roses don’t bloom the way they used to
their petals bruised from too much waiting
their fragrance gone leaving only a bitter taste
on the air the trees no longer whisper
secrets to the wind they are silent
and bent like old bones
holding on to something they cannot name
I don’t...
#acceptance
#emptiness
#FeelingLost
#grief
#MovingOn
41 reads
Cogitatus
how long
do I have -
before your
glazed eyes
greet me
when I pause
to look up
from my page?
each time
I think to myself
~who else is here?~
I’ve spilled every
last drop
of the battle
I suit up for
on any given
Tuesday;
what remains
before I run out
of ways to say
I’m not alright?
~I won’t ever be alright~
but as long as
you’re willing
to watch this
fight to the death,
I’m willing
to put on
a show ...
do I have -
before your
glazed eyes
greet me
when I pause
to look up
from my page?
each time
I think to myself
~who else is here?~
I’ve spilled every
last drop
of the battle
I suit up for
on any given
Tuesday;
what remains
before I run out
of ways to say
I’m not alright?
~I won’t ever be alright~
but as long as
you’re willing
to watch this
fight to the death,
I’m willing
to put on
a show ...
#LifeStruggles
#WritingPoetry
#SelfReflection
#MovingOn
#healing
339 reads
9 Comments
Cogitatus
how long
do I have -
before your
glazed eyes
greet me
when I pause
to look up
from my page?
each time
I think to myself
~who else is here?~
I’ve spilled every
last drop
of the battle
I suit up for
on any given
Tuesday;
what remains
before I run out
of ways to say
I’m not alright?
~I won’t ever be alright~
but as long as
you’re willing
to watch this
fight to the death,
I’m willing
to put on
a show ...
do I have -
before your
glazed eyes
greet me
when I pause
to look up
from my page?
each time
I think to myself
~who else is here?~
I’ve spilled every
last drop
of the battle
I suit up for
on any given
Tuesday;
what remains
before I run out
of ways to say
I’m not alright?
~I won’t ever be alright~
but as long as
you’re willing
to watch this
fight to the death,
I’m willing
to put on
a show ...
#LifeStruggles
#WritingPoetry
#SelfReflection
#MovingOn
#healing
339 reads
9 Comments
Cogitatus
how long
do I have -
before your
glazed eyes
greet me
when I pause
to look up
from my page?
each time
I think to myself
~who else is here?~
I’ve spilled every
last drop
of the battle
I suit up for
on any given
Tuesday;
what remains
before I run out
of ways to say
I’m not alright?
~I won’t ever be alright~
but as long as
you’re willing
to watch this
fight to the death,
I’m willing
to put on
a show ...
do I have -
before your
glazed eyes
greet me
when I pause
to look up
from my page?
each time
I think to myself
~who else is here?~
I’ve spilled every
last drop
of the battle
I suit up for
on any given
Tuesday;
what remains
before I run out
of ways to say
I’m not alright?
~I won’t ever be alright~
but as long as
you’re willing
to watch this
fight to the death,
I’m willing
to put on
a show ...
#LifeStruggles
#WritingPoetry
#SelfReflection
#MovingOn
#healing
339 reads
9 Comments
Cogitatus
how long
do I have -
before your
glazed eyes
greet me
when I pause
to look up
from my page?
each time
I think to myself
~who else is here?~
I’ve spilled every
last drop
of the battle
I suit up for
on any given
Tuesday;
what remains
before I run out
of ways to say
I’m not alright?
~I won’t ever be alright~
but as long as
you’re willing
to watch this
fight to the death,
I’m willing
to put on
a show ...
do I have -
before your
glazed eyes
greet me
when I pause
to look up
from my page?
each time
I think to myself
~who else is here?~
I’ve spilled every
last drop
of the battle
I suit up for
on any given
Tuesday;
what remains
before I run out
of ways to say
I’m not alright?
~I won’t ever be alright~
but as long as
you’re willing
to watch this
fight to the death,
I’m willing
to put on
a show ...
#LifeStruggles
#WritingPoetry
#SelfReflection
#MovingOn
#healing
339 reads
9 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems About Moving On Published by Members Recently Online