Quaking Poems - Poems about Quaking

Any qualms, quaking aspen In shading a graveyard? "No; not when, worn and wrinkly My own pride discard!"...

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A willow trembles in the breeze And stoops in awe as angels sneeze; Quaking feebly to its knees, Bending, doleful, if you please. A day, as this, when squalls blow wild The willow cries ~ as like a child; Deserted, sad, forlorn, beguiled, And all aloof, left out, exiled. Now her branches droop away Blenching down throughout the day; Keeping blusts of gusts at bay Harboured...

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Run, run, run from the outbreak of quaking terror, but where can you go or hide because it's not done. Trapped, in bitter anguish, hands cuffed behind your back, it’s taken your pride, you'll remember forever. The locust has been released from its amber cage, reproducing, scatter millions, killing slowly igniting a Molotov cocktail round...

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first quivering shy hello regrets quaking - last goodbye unfolds 12/20/2018 For One Liner: Hello and Goodbye contest Sponsored by Silent One...

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We are the high altitude sentinels. Our small groves freckle the high plains. We keep to ourselves, mostly upon the snow burdened peaks where our ashen trunks blend and our barren branches cling to icy white glitter. As the breath of winter ebbs we watch the crystal spring run-off growing ever greener with envy of how it races down the hill; babbling. We whisper this...

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Unheeded in the spread of his name, quaking Through the knit brow cuddling the sombre eye Twice buckled into the couch of his yearning The mouldy cast of unsculptured hands, moulting In the surging sweaty cries' unexpected sigh Sooner lost than won with unrenewed longing Every day, every night in chastened haste, calling ...

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Surely there was some mistake! This couldn’t really be a quake! I know one person – not a joke – Who thought he’d suffered from a stroke. But no, the experts did unveil 5.7 on the Richter scale, With tremors up and down the coast; Virginia seemed to get the most. New Yorkers seemed the most surprised. We haven’t been familiarized With quakes like...

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Pure filth in the sick terrain of disease amoeba,bacteria gnawing on carrion putrid smelling awful the fetid wafts captured noses puissance in resistance aided by gear little toll was heavy like a hammer of God. Sins overgrew like wild moss the citylines many had looted gravely many others of toe to hairs yet others had ditched several in rat holes of despair raped...

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As I look up, I wake up, I hear sudden sound The voices they call me When no one’s around I stand here and listen As softly they speak For everyone’s laughing At something unique I don’t quite know As I restlessly gape How you can take it That cruel stricken face I love you it says As we wait undisturbed I miss you and hate you And fake...

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