Shadows befalling
a dark afternoon
And veiling destruction
the end coming soon
A boy and his dog
in the rubble at play
The body’s — toy soldiers
in silence they lay
Then one plane approaches
flying lower than most
Its bomb bay doors open
its payload to roast
A target that’s cross-haired
with ordnance bound
As a boy and dog play
— where death will impound
(To All Children Of War: April, 2026)
You confused the situation
by alarming the guests
saying close
but no cigar
You always gave quaint encouragement
by virtue of your factuals
We sweetly sang out of tune
to deflect the despondency
On the chimes befalling
you set the table for many guests
but could ill afford the meal provided
Absence as I hear them calling
Broken as I feel them falling
Cardiac as it's stalling
Darkness has me crawling
Endeavoring to its installing
Fevered by enthralling
Giving into it appalling
Heartfelt gifts sprawling
Individual love is worth mauling
Jointly our worth is stalling
Kissing my lips, befalling
Loving her, a load I'm hauling
Missing us forever recalling
No joy in finding the end
Openness only serves to offend
Patience is just pretend
Quietly wanting more than a friend
Reliving does not allow us to transcend
Seeking solutions, don't bend
Time there's none left to extend
Unbelievably easy to condescend
Viciousness has no way to amend
Wanting left no desire to attend
Xenomorphic this relationships bookend
You had every chance girlfriend
Zero desire is left to be penned
A Forms And Words Challenge Poetry Contest
20th February 2023
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
Up the polished ceiling above my bed
In my bedroom resting for a while,
A camouflaged lizard crawls his webbed feet
With dead silence in his spider tongue
Hunting a fly nearby in languorous mood
So unconscious of to-be catastrophe
Bony spine of mine chills enough
To freeze my whole body like an ice
For the certainty of yet another calamities
Befalling on my quiet turbid heart
At any moments of my present life.
My desire to rest for a while with
My frightened and horror-stricken mind
Strives to take up its clothes of fright and horror
As if torched with mother of bomb
Runs naked towards the camera lens
With my screams frozen in frame
That unknowingly and unconsciously adheres
To the severe fading wall of my bedroom.
That portrait of mine destined to hide its reality
Sinks in time warped depth of ocean
Damped with futuristic dirt and dust
Wailing a digger to reveal the quintessence of
An embryonic present matured to rare earth
Out of an ovary of pregnant futurity.
*
s not a movie is reality
Life looks so horror
This days our realities
Bitters
It outcome bleed tears
It not on our favour
The people keep feeling
The heat of deformity
It no longer a joke
What you see nowadays
Is our shameful reality
Is not a movie
Is not a movie is reality
Sitting at home
In front of the screen
You can watch the evils
Befalling the world
Right now in our era
We progress from war
To war
Troubles to troubles
Crys to Cry's
We never grow better
And now we fear to watch
The screen
Cos what you see in the
Media is no joke
That is our obvious reality
Is not a movie is reality
Is not a movie
Check out the real situation
In the world
Then you see why I must
Write my poems
From the soul
The world need no
Fantasies
We are old enough to
Live in harmony
We are not meant to
Be a horror full generation
Is sad the events befalling
In the world
We are to be blamed
befalling
against the darkened skies
the last thread of light
flickers then fades
within the silence
forthcoming
fathomless
are these thoughts
stirring about
like hair twirled
in a caress of winds
that leaves me breathless
beneath the rhythmic pulse
of my own heart
racing towards yours
so beautiful this love
that draws me to you
in thoughts of mind
on the wings of dreams
it soars free like birds
over meadows of green
yet memories evade
then fade in the stillness of time
with the remembrance of your death
02/25/2020
this cooler air seems to mottle the trees
spinning leaves like my thoughts in winded dance
befalling trails of tears on crimson breeze
as they fall grounded beneath the oak's stance
i hear the crumble of death beneath me
as i shiver within its strident gasp
chaotic roots reach out beneath its quay
piquing me with tones of your final rasp
dubious mind much like bare branches snaps
within the disdain utter from dead lips
as it echoes remorse in lifeless slaps
freeing only my body from its grips
my soul stands colorless, naked and numb
mirroring the trees in this autumn glum
December 27, 2019
Entered into Best Sonnet of 2019 Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
September 30, 2019
*Quay is pronounced as Ke
it's almost october
misty mornings
foggy nights
crazy hair
i don't care
time of year
i yearn
for the echo
of drums
as they whisper
in summer rains
through mountain's tops
more so than
sunset hues in trees
peering in and out
of the thickness
of smoky air
rising from the valley
there is no music
in autumn's air
just a moan
of cold breath
lingering
beauty
befalling
to death
Mankind generates the utmost malevolent deeds
Sustaining corruption and ignoring those in need
Beholding a mirror, peering at the countenance
Dereliction of the conscious is an annoyance
As the darkness envelops callusing hearts and eyes
Anchoring in the abyss, the soul harbors the lies
Encompass, the globe has needless suffering affairs
Ego-centrist administer by promoting fears
There are continental fractures and accretive walls
And the preservation for evil: disputes and brawls
Turmoil weeping floods befalling for lost loved dears
Infinitude canyon murals eroded though tears
Cradling the bodies of sands before they disappear
The elixir for this palindormia fever,
Palimpsest the bitterness via seeds of forgiveness
Family; fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers
Foreverness, us, the sun’s arc, are rare tones and colors
Dark and sinister rain befalling us
I know something is wrong, I can feel it in my bones,
Catastrophic endless fountain of blood,
But faith refuses to panic at all…
I will go to my grave as a soldier of the Lord…
Yes I will go my grave fighting this war…
I will be fearless and brave, until He gives me wings and
I’ll fly away…
Yes I will go to my grave, praising His name forever more…
I will go to my grave as a soldier of the Lord.
And it won’t be long now, I know…
Jesus is coming, I can hear Gabrielle's trumpet…
I can hear my body turning away from my soul,
I can see the angels waking those who have long slept,
I can hear the sound of Michael’s shield and sword…
Well, I fight like I’ve never fought before,
‘Cuz he gave me His heart, so I’ll give Him mine, for sure…
And I’ll go to my grave and as a soldier of the Lord…
Fearless and brave, I’ll go to my grave,
I’ll go to my grave, as a soldier of the Lord.
B eyond the echoes of my last word
R each the subtleties of instability.
E quity and chaos battling for space;
A ttracted only to each other....
T ranquility dominates and peace is found.
H eaven is as close as the sweet smell of home.
T ransient for a moment, so I know:
A Judgment Day is befalling,
K neeling in humility I confess.....
I am condemned and then forgiven.
N estled now in the bosom of my mother,
G lory comes to those who Believe!
~May my mother RIP knowing we will meet again~
I feel as though my mind in a hurricane
Getting worse by each thought and sound
All the time driving me more insane
In the centre of the storm am I found?
For those thoughts to hide I try
I fear each befalling of eventide
For in the darkness I hear it cry
There is no place for you to hide
I know that I am not alone
You know I’m not my true form
But all you hear is me drone
Then did in that storm
Help me out of this storm
You once enter my mind
You seen my true form
But I never myself find
Take upon yourself this task?
Save this my rotting mind
Look far beyond my mask
And the real me you shall find.
Each face is like a canvas where upon one's thoughts do trace
Revealing for the world to see our ugliness or grace.
Though slow the task, beware how fast each artist's mark is made
When life's done collecting our sum, it's worn beyond the grave.
Sweet youth's innocence passes like fields of springtime flowers
As each soul's character is forged by their choices every hour.
In life's countless sundry trials befalling great and small,
Many grow refined, some less inclined stumble, or they fall.
So seek the Master Artist who helps repair our mistakes
And from life's palette of choices helps us wisely to partake.
Then when we meet to kneel and bow before God's Holy Grace,
We'll find His strokes of perfect love upon each soul's true face.
The tree does not at the hewing suffer
Albeit the callous thwacks all edges raining down
Nor the tons of muscles befalling on its cadaver
But savvy ing a bisection of the axe stems from her own
She protractedly taught him to target archery
How his bow bends unerringly
When he at last imbibed the art secrecy
Betrayingly shot her uncompassionately.
We have to stop complaining, my friend
For all hardships we meet up on our way
Perhaps
The calamities that are befalling upon us
Are but the result, of our inner disarray!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
09 JANUARY 2015
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