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Search results for: Hurt

Yee yee! We've found 11 poem titles matching Hurt.

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Hurt
Maricella
I have been in love with you for three wonderful years, I’ve had my share of tears and hurt. Nothing compares to the love I had for you. I gave up ...Rate it:

(0.00 / 0 votes)
When Memories Hurt
Ehsan Sehgal
The memories bring the pain And tears I try hard Not to recall But that, come As destructive forces Beyond my power That, destroy My feelings ...Rate it:

(5.00 / 3 votes)
Here Is To The Women Who Hurt!
EMTSBA III
Here is to the women who hurt! How their pain never told though their stories ever sold, intuitively resistant and bold. Their very dignity dra...Rate it:

(5.00 / 2 votes)
Overcome the Hurt
Albertina Theresa Cameron
Overcome the hurt for what its worth Healing of the mind by putting old things behind As we live out our life in due time Focusing on the present a...Rate it:

(3.00 / 1 vote)
When Memories Hurt
Ehsan Sehgal
The memories bring the pain And tears I try hard Not to recall But that, come As destructive forces Beyond my power That, destroy My feelings of jo...Rate it:

(3.00 / 1 vote)
A Hurt So Good
Kurt Philip Behm
Writing pains my hand —as it eases my heart (Strafford Pennsylvania: November, 1976)Rate it:

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Healed of My Hurt
Herman Melville
Healed of my hurt, I laud the inhuman Sea-- Yea, bless the Angels Four that there convene; For healed I am even by the pitiless breath Distilled ...Rate it:

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Hurt Hawks
Robinson Jeffers
I The broken pillar of the wing jags from the clotted shoulder, The wing trails like a banner in defeat, No more to use the sky forever but live...Rate it:

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Hurt No Living Thing
Christina Georgina Rossetti
Hurt no living thing: Ladybird, nor butterfly, Nor moth with dusty wing, Nor cricket chirping cheerily, Nor grasshopper so light of leap, Nor ...Rate it:

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It ceased to hurt me, though so slow
Emily Dickinson
It ceased to hurt me, though so slow I could not feel the Anguish go— But only knew by looking back— That something—had benumbed the Track— Nor wh...Rate it:

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Lotus Hurt by the Cold
David Herbert Lawrence
How many times, like lotus lilies risen Upon the surface of a river, there Have risen floating on my blood the rare Soft glimmers of my hop...Rate it:

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