PoetryVerse - the poem and the meaning

Aldo Kraas

Another day bite the dust Published: October 28, 2025

Another day bite the dust Because my father brought down the Sun And I saw the sunset It was beautiful To my naked eyes Now my father brought Us the night It was my time to go to sleep I took my meds and Went to sleep I was already exhausted Yes I hope I have a good night sleep Yes the night is long And it has 24 hours Tomorrow I will be up Early And I will pray for my Father First thing In the morning

One Blue Jockey

The obituary of Samuel Beckett Published: October 06, 2026

His obituary of Samuel Beckett was a blank page, Only words there were grains of rice in a white room, Taken too early, his time on Earth too brief, Not because he was young when he left the world But because the last time the world saw him he was young. Samuel Beckett was named after the famous writer A novelist, poet, the playwright Samuel Beckett, Which is rather ironic, As his debut in writing, Was his obituary, And it was no epic No poem of glory or of sorrows, It was a confession, That he was plucked from this planet too early. He roam

Mikhail Moonasar

BITTER NIGHTS Published: September 12, 2026

I wonder which version of me survives Inside the memories you never touch The one who kept your secrets, kept alive The one who loved you far too much You pass the places where we laughed You feel no pull, you feel no ache You drank my love just like a draft And left me drowning in your wake I was your shelter from the storm Your warmth on every bitter night Now I am nothing, less than warm A dying man who lost his light So bury me inside your past Forget the man who gave you all This love was never meant to last And I was always meant to fa

Vrab

La Fontaine Published: August 09, 2026

La Fontaine wrote his fables late at night, long after the world had dimmed its light; so he cannot claim the credit alone - his wife deserves some praise of her own. For had she kept herself busy with women’s affairs, he’d never have written of crickets and ants. Had she but focused on him for a moment then, La Fontaine would have written quite differently, amen.

Hxney

Real Man Published: August 05, 2026

Rough hands foreign amongst dime, Earned their throne through paths unknown to me. A thin veil which conceals, Like a viper slithering low, shedding its outer layer to what suits him best. My once kind seed, begone with all unwanted ways; she detests. All for nought, yearning for feather-light touches that may never grace. No son of mine is man.

Connor Whiting

Still I stood Published: August 04, 2026

Did you bleed through nights that left no trace, with no one near to see it? Did you hold your ground when they left no space, and swear you never leave? Did you break in half and bind it tight, so no one saw the seam? Did you carry men through fire and fight, then wake alone and scream? They talk of strength like it’s clean and neat, Like it’s medals on a chest. But strength is cracked hands, and bloodied feet, and a heart that’s had no rest. Did you love too deep? Did you lose too much? Did silence bruise your name? Were you mocked for bei