One glance is enough
stranger summed with a side glance,
a total write-off—
before the case is opened
judge rejects the evidence.
A still life, unclaimed
canvas without signature
likeness left unseen—
what does not count slips away
in the glance we never gave.
Early verdict's in
worth already written down
sum of worthless parts—
guilty as charged, at first sight—
stranger, totaled, towed away.
unshackled from our mind tree
are we where we wish to be
or is there yet angst and dread
borne by desires in heart bred
“Welcome”
a robot effigy of painted aluminium
on its face a vestigial smile
chill, uncharismatic and instant,
voicing through it
like rasping metallic file,
a platinum echo, distant.
Its unmoving countenance
worn like a habit, a shiny mask, ill-fit
the smirk of a smile sewn on,
with crayon drawn on,
it did not move as if to prove
a robotic ability as ventriloquist.
I was transfixed
with words that keenly gnawed:
“You have been thawed.”
I looked around with icy perception,
with roving eye and no movement of limb,
where had I been?
As my body warmed and my limbs gained inflection,
so my mind was pierced with icicles of truth
of a previous existence and a distant youth.
It’s all coming back now,
it had worked somehow:
Cryogenics.
In the beginning, there was hope,
Then something shifted in me,
Now, all I am left with are tears,
Why didn't God see my aching tears?
How can I still, for the best, hope?
How can this pain be good for me?
Something ingrained believes in me,
But, deep inside, flow broken tears,
I have leftover faith and hope,
I hope someday this sad me will be replaced with joyful tears.
(24.09.2026)
(Not for contest)
I fire the gun that you taught me to hold, and now, you call me the perpetrator?
I shot through dark, you shot through bright hues
You did what you had to do and now I'll do what i do best
Introduce you to the malice you integrated in yourself
Like a knife that cuts you through
Two pieces, mismatched, but born through one
You rubbed salt on my wounds, you cut deeper than sin
Your side-splitting grin as i died solely from within
Dangerous grounds that i was on, holding onto some ray of hope
You blocked my eyesight, from the minute you stepped in
Ridiculed my misery, shifted my story, burned my mind through time
But you should've known i always take what's mine
I hit the spot.
I marked it with a dot.
It's my spot—
An 'X' ringed.
A bullseye claimed,
filled with jet black ink—
Not a blot with rough edges that seep out,
but one with a sharp outer perimeter.
It's a point pretending it has a yard of space around it,
on its own plot of land, casting no shadows.
I shift a bit; neighbors start crowding in.
"Stop Right There!"
"It's my spot you're on!"
I feel the canvas moving under my spot,
or is it all the jostling moving me — page, plot and all?
Now I'm bouncing in a crowded jumping castle.
Dots blurring into one another.
Stippled footprints mark where spots once stood;
touching down elsewhere — here, there, otherwise.
I've lost the plot; I've lost my spot.
Just another orphaned dot,
set adrift, looking for a margin to belong in.
on a slate, forever being wiped clean.
I clamp down and dig in my heels.
Crampons bite into the ice floe.
Punctuation halts the slide,
puts its foot down—
my comma sheds its tail, and holds.
commemorative me
am conspiratorial
my reminiscence of
mozartean ghost
Gets tougher and tougher
They powdered your buffer
And buffered your puffer
When found that you suffer...
Mental Metro Central-
Residential Rental-
Open Dystopian-
Anti-Utopian-
Fallopian Syndrome
trees gets a workout—
branches rattle, leaves shudder
roots refuse to move
sunflower turns round,
tracking the sun all day long—
evening light stalks backs
The elm feels smug now—
showing off autumn colors—
dressed to die in style
dandelion ghosts
wait for puffed breath to come near—
leave before they're asked
snapdragons gossip
mouths open to every sleaze—
the wind takes the blame
pinecone hoards seeds—
doomsday prepper in the woods—
banks its hopes on spring
thorny vine hangs out,
snags your sleeve—stay for a while;
what's all the rush for?
willow boughs whisper—
tangled whispers touch the pond
water keeps secrets
young pine stands too straight—
trying hard to look grown-up—
rings hide under bark
palms on vacation
lean too far out over sea—
no luggage is due
Sapling asks the pond—
which of us is upside down?—
neither can answer
roots hold yesterday
branches reach for tomorrow—
the open trunk waits
revenge is served cold
with malice in cold steel knife
beside three-pronged fork
hate needs patience to mature
like a ripe blue-vein Stilton
anger sets the feast
memory seasons each course
with bitter chilli
sprinkled to sharpen revenge
as hunger outwaits its prize
when the dish arrives
rust has reached the waiting knife
mould adorns the fork
the taste of blood turns bitter
in the gnash of grinding teeth
He bans MSNOW, CNN and Politico
Now even FOX shouts foul! No! No! No!
For our 1st Amendment right
we shall continue to fight,
King Trump, and Hegseth, and Rubio
—R.G
I march down the block with my neighborhood
Hold signs and picket all day as we should
It’s not a toast for Trump
But a roast of a rump
True patriots defend due process—understood?
—I Am Anaya
I JUST LOVE AND MISS YOU SO MUCH
Loneliness is as a period
Without a full sentence;
It mirrors a riverbed
That once knew water;
Yes, loneliness can be canvassed
As a dried eggshell that has lost all:-
You were my life’s sentence, water, and yoke:
And this life of mine, just misses you so much:-
How can i mourn something i’ve never known
Still I pretend to swim
in the endless sea
nigh of any true misery
only the discomfort of martyrdom
inflicted upon those who will learn
to forget my name
shroud my shattered remains in gossamer
let time feast on my flesh
strip from me all of value
yield to nothing but my eyes
an unmade carcass of becoming
shall drift loosely carried by the windless tide
watching—waiting for the day to bleed into the night
Grief does not belong here
It has no home
Tears shall not be shed where I lay
Irises will not rest by my tomb
Palms will not dig to unearth me
For a stranger cannot be mourned
If they were never known
I Was Here A While
I was here as the last breeze unfurls
To see the waves last few curls
What shall become of me afterwhile
Waiting for the moon I think I'll
Make my peace watching the ocean meet the sky
Pondering all those things that no one knows why
While the sun's last rays stand in the way
The moon has no place to play
I was here a while on this tiny sphere
Vibrating to the ocean"s roar so clear
In the earth's blink of her eye
Even a billion years after I die
To this marble I'll be dead for sure
In God's gift to the universe I'll remain obscure
A life of searching for where I fit
Maybe all I can do is imagine it
Not to forever live
Only mere moments does he give
Each a blessing
To be possessing
Beyond my time the future lays
And what may happen in those days
For I have no way to know
What may come and what may go
When my last breeze blows
And my final wave goes
All those moments of joy and pain
Will be lost like tears in the rain
Left me so behind,
Should you still be one of mine,
You weren't just one of mine, but the only one,
And I was only someone.
Guess I chased a cloud
That disappeared without a sound,
You weren't there to catch my fall,
You just rained on me, that's all.
No use shouting in a vacuum where no sound can go,
Or explaining to those who never cared to know.
So I'll grow into the new me, the one who's coming through,
For this time, I'm done being blue.
Angst Categories
Definition | What is Angst in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
nervousness, apprehension, agony, misgiving, uneasiness, dread, blues, depression, weltschmerz, mid life crisis,