Anodyne Poems | Examples

List of Member Poems

Red Ruins

Black widow, thy fabled mark.
Through a knothole seen.
Moonlight, light path after dark.
Glitch the gangrel green.

Flickering flame, wax candle's gleam.
How to extinguish?
Air. Snuff out. Cut off the stream.
Cover up the dish.

Hellfire, bloom. O woodland, burn.
Ghost, hide in the leaves.
Pain, approval, taciturn.
He who loves, soon grieves.

Life, red ruins. Fain, fast fade.
Silent is the shade.
O for those who were played, glade?
Blighted, bound, bombed, bade.

Will-o-the-wisp, deep the bog.
Follow where it goes?
Light, thy beauty. Slick the slog.
Carrion for the crows.

Tiger in the tall grass?
He's waiting for a meal.
O young suitor, lass? Best pass.
Never shall ye heal.

Vicious viper, poison pit.
Well, we should have quit.
Firefly, how to keep lit? Flit.
Otherwise get bit.

Slit throat, O anodyne? Helped?
Seemed like he had died.
Holluschickie, how you yelped.
Children, woe betide...

Activation, Anodyne

Activate, O anodyne.
Free me from the past.
Thought she was a friend of mine?
Hempen rope, thy mast.

Welling up inside you, thus:
Hell, thy fires surround.
Heaven, how I hate! Minus:
All above the ground!

Pain, you spring eternal.
Contentment, you're a drug.
Commands of the kernel?
Diurnal life, zwangzug.

If you dwell in daylight:
The sight of you will tempt.
Fate, thy bite! Fine fight or flight!
Poison, just pre-empt!

Predator, thy fairest face!
Golden is such grace!
O coyote, choose the chase!
Decency displace!

Wind, thy salmon-running ways!
Mate within the maze?
How indeed, sirs, nerves a-frays!
Priceless how it pays!

Space, open a portal.
I wish away to fly.
Demons of the void, stay full?
Anyhow, we try.

Singularities, deep freeze?
Well, we're off our knees.
All day long we're scratching fleas?
Saying please? At ease...

Premium Member Alabaster Flame

Written: May 25, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Silent One

2nd place contest winner

                *************************

Quote: "Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.” — By Rumi ( With my honest wishes of a long and healthy life— Very Happy Birthday.

The moon still glows—an alabaster flame,  
memory’s mirror, never the same.  
Spume drifts, shimmering and bright,  
not shadowy, but limpid light.  

You watch sunsets and softly muse—  
Do you fade, or do you fuse?  
Their shades shroud loss and gain,
a peculiar parity of pleasure and pain.  

Lessons grasped don’t be acrimonious,
regrets mollified primarily harmonious. 
Time’s conundrum teaches clear—  
Delicate days are a deep fear. 

To your tender time, you’d tell and attire,
Beware quixotry, yet seize the desire.  
Do not anathemize your fall—  
Failure’s anodyne heals all.  

Though tristful shadows at times prowl,  
still you liaise with joy, still you howl.  
Twilight or dawn, the soul’s refrain—  
amaranthine light will remain.


Premium Member NEW SURROUNDINGS

NEW SURROUNDINGS
detached
  beginnings 
gradually
  dissolving
   outlines
inexpressive
  variations
     becalmed
      anodyne
gestures
irreconcilable 
  chaotic 
    pliable
     malleable
abstraction
close-up
care-free
  incidental
symbols
of
  confidence
breathing
freedom
in
a
  relaxed
    unrestrained 
layered
  sequential
atmosphere

a vigorous 
  vital
    amorphous 
      delicate
conceptual
unchanging
shape
of
  single-minded
energy

Premium Member Thrill of Late Summer

Written: August 09, 2025, for contest SEASONS NOW AND AFTER Sponsored by: Nette Onclaud

           ************

Aurora sheds her velvet, gleaming flame,
Dusk with iridescent shades fills the air.
Molten winds trick hearts in taking a game,
Grooved meadows grant obedient despair. 

The alabaster clouds sparkle with grace,
Empyrean dreams appease the reek ache.
Fertile roots stir zymotic in their place,
Anodyne stars at triptych kindly break. 

The swarm is a hive of busy tough bees,
Pavonine clouds, incarnadine with thrill.
Multivocal leaves—ethereal, breeze—,
Rapture in desiccation, soft and still.

From the Clarinet

Late November,
and lonely resonance of harmattan
salutes this solitude.
A weaverbird's contralto, in one
gale-sweep, lays bare the lower balustrade
of a maisonette,
and the romance of the last seasons
shoots the long throat of the clarinet...

O'classicals, on wings
ye come;
leaf cusps and petal ears —
classicals, swearing oaths of
mellifluous assembly...

Calm rhythms hasten to the
ears of Beethoven —
summon him for a serenade,
lest the dark shelter of a
decrepit day strips this solitude.

Anodyne hisses among
this hidden threshold,
curing and healing the weakness of
Clepoatra's hair, dampened with
the venom of haters of vanity.

Classicals,
rid us now of this grief of mundane
dances...
Even in death, Stravinsky hails solitude
on notes of the keys.

From the clarinet,
the bimetallism of barter —
the platitude of life and death
(symbiosis of percussions)
epitaph to the aftermath of
inveterate tradition —
now and forever...

And the clarinet looms.


Premium Member Serenade

 
Written: February 05, 2024
            _____________________________________________

On twilit roads as dusk falls,
from rivers to towers and walls,
when lilting rhythms call,
a gleaming steed sailed.
on pearl-grey pinions, and held,
as the aroma of willow draws.
tumble toward the ground.
through warm beams.
and anodyne smell.
 
Under the mast of a rusting ship,
over a dazzling web of water and light,
I'm excited to charter out of the bay,
In a silver chariot,
on chrysolite mirrors and carried,
where cinnabar vapor entices,
float gently to the ground,
with cheerful smiles,
and sensual breath,
bright polish—sun fell,
busters grab and break boards.

And tempests rumble and thunder,
In an iron chariot, ferried,
on clods of lava, and carried,
where cinnabar vapor beguiles,
swinging unpretentious,
with savage smiles,
and smoldering breath.

Premium Member It Is Often Said, Love Is Blue

it is often said, love is blue
a poor anodyne for crushed hearts
pity them dearly that after years
they fail to understand
the mirror holds the cynosure
they truly adore
once miraculous, now commonplace
magic surrendered to logic
fails the child within
the alchemy enclosed is dead
an abandoned playground
even more tragic is the bewitchment
was really never there
the Janus exposed in time
the sad tale of the birth
and transition to decay
those highway markers
where tragedy found a conclusion
when dreams have failed to meld
the off-ramps become the easier pursuit
and as such we humans are
lose or draw begin once more
form new dreams and nurture
the decay within
the reality of the chimera desired
lives where horses are riderless
the beggars have all perished
in a self-induced famine
where the walking dead
polish their romance

   OKC   5/22

The End of a Year

The end of the year.

The pope is dead, no, not him, but the old one
who liked wearing red hats
There he was, driving his VW around the alps
advancing slowly through the clerical ranks
and suddenly, he was a pope.
Many things happen at the end of this year
a famous Haute Culture woman died a dame
Surely, she must have been surprised so much
fame unasked for.
Don’t mention the war!
A low-ranking officer in a secret service end
up a leader of a big country, powerful
like a dictator going to war against windmills.
Not his plan when as a spy walking the night
in Amsterdam.
A very aged man becomes the president
of the USA, going through the political ranks
showing us that mediocrity always pays
and lies win in the end.
Tonight, millions of people will fill the streets
watching fireworks lit up the night sky
Anodyne, you say, I’m not so sure if in doubt
ask the people of Ukraine
So, hold tight let the new year commence
wishing a happy birthday to the unborn year.

Floatation Device

From the first filling nascent puff
love’s breath buoyed a ring, filial…
 
Onward floating where the hearts go
and hands cling during a stormy sea ~ 
To lift the sinking 'n offer benevolent 
anodyne alms easing terrors of aqua
threatening to drown in bereavement ...

Inflated again, waits for a tsunami
on which to ride to placid scenario…

New waves toss and turn till benign ~

Deflated many times when pierced,
ended ties that stabbed once/twice… 

Voyaging closely, my true two of luv…
In their re-inflating exhales, have I
come afloat again to remain kinetic
evermore, as their floatation device ~

(8/21/2022 - For 'The Meaning of Love' Contest)

Premium Member Waiting In the Silence

waiting in the silence
for the energy to run aground
yet what flotsam the surf gives up
it will have to keep
i always jetsom, i never lagan
Humpty Dumty, friends with superglue
are not always reality
reality does not always adhere
reality does not care

your freedom, illusions of the amaranth
i have no simpleton delusions, imagoes
i am afraid death the anodyne
eventually, every star consumes itself

Nemesis, my knowing smile
Ate, your mentor
she is behind the mirror waiting
as all ephemerals, you bore me
i enjoy the diestrus
remembering the notches, using other's vanities
every Blackwidow deserves a prince
the Prince of Pandemonium

San Blas   92   The Patient Stones

Premium Member Ocean

On the moon a shadow

Colors in a crazy dance

Enlightened by the movement of

Anodyne stars 

Naked and fragile under the unveiled sky

Aby

Premium Member You Can Ask Anybody

Do you know how much 
you mean to me?
My heart and soul 
can only tell you so much

I'm a flower,
and you, my gardener.
I bloom because of you.
You can ask anybody!

On the darkest of days,
you are my scintillating sunshine!
You're the anodyne to my pain
In case you don't know.

I wish you knew
Oh, I wish you knew...
just how dearly
I cherish you!

At my weakest, you become
my strength. When I'm...
in despair, you are the sun
shining down hope!

Really, you can ask anybody!
Better yet, ask everybody... 
and you'll know you mean more
to me than life itself!


Submitted for...
Strand No 700,Any Form Any Theme Poetry Contest (Winner: 2nd Place)
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
03/18/2020

Date written: 03/17/2020

Insomnia

It's 6 AM in the morning and I'm wide awake,
Insomnia has been a close friend, and so is heartache. 

When I can't sleep I write poems;
they're my anodyne to dull me to sleep,

When I get suffocated 
by all the wicked things I keep.

Premium Member There Is No Remedy

I have learned in the reclining chair,
		while the dentist mined deep veins of decay,
		how to transfer pain.
		The needled anodyne of novocaine
		is inadequate to allay
		the harrowing ache he engenders there.
		
		But not even by bending fingers until they pop
		or stabbing nails into the tenderest flesh
		can I get the dedicated ache to stop.
		Nor did my visit to another woman
		after the last set when her shift was done	
		soothe the bruises on my heart
		that blossomed when you stole the sun.

Sub Categories

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.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace