Best Abject Poems
there's too much sorrow...
don't you know
we are all going to die
a starting point always beckons a finish
sooner or later
no matter how
peaceful or painful
that final moment may be
you see...
it will come
for you
for me
There's too much sorrow
war
betrayal
so much I have seen
sickness sapping away
the mother-daughter moments
meant for me...
She struggled bravely
to set my fears free
But MS wouldn't let her be
My Mama left me
There is too much sorrow
the pain of being unloved
of trying to fit in
of trying to play the game
of success and fame
it all comes at a cost
so much is lost...
sacrificial moments
meant for family
There is too much sorrow
refugee misery
nowhere to be
no home
no destiny
just abject poverty
hearts left hungry
for a love
that the world
will not let them see
There is too much sorrow
tonight my heart is heavy
I'm tired of goodbyes
I'm tired of trying to fit in
I'm tired of pretense
I'm tired of...me
There is too much sorrow
Eyes are blurring
I can't see
the last lines I'm meant to write
Too tired to fight
Survival more than it's pumped up to be
Sleep....obliviousness of a dream
sweet it seems to me
you see...
There is too much pain
So write...
write for me
of happy
of make believe
of heaven
and eternity
of no pain
or misery
of no abuse
or fatality
of no tears
or cruelty
no more death
for you
no more death
for me
can't you see?
Write of happy...
Please, there is too much sadness here
for me....
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Categories:
abject, sad, truth,
Form:
Free verse
When I refused to ride with Death
He tied my hands and feet,
Then tossed me in with some poor guy
He'd grabbed up off the street.
Oh, what a hurry he was in!
He slammed it to the floor.
We sat in wide-eyed, abject fear,
Each clinging to a door.
While whizzing past the school, we saw
The children run and play.
We passed the fields where tractors hummed
On this, our judgment day.
We captives introduced ourselves,
Shook hands, and sadly talked.
When Death heard unfamiliar names,
He gasped, slowed down, and balked.
He made a sudden stop beside
A swelling of the ground.
He scratched his head, he murmured low,
And then he turned around.
" 'Tis centuries until your time!
I've made a grave mistake.
Seems I misread the pick-up sheet.
You're free, for goodness sake!"
Categories:
abject, death, parody,
Form:
Quatrain
Please speak to me my lovely friend
With leaves stirred softly by the wind
Under enchanted autumn sky
Where your susurrate sounds drift by.
Sing soft melodies in choir
As leaves glow as if on fire.
I feel your abject dying pain
When wet and cold from chilling rain.
I remember spring at your birth,
How you brightened verdant earth.
And then in summer your soft shade
Where under your cool leaves I laid.
You always spoke or sang to me
While holding close your mother tree.
But now in autumn's silver sky
Soft spoken leaves whisper goodbye.
© Connie Marcum Wong
September 17, 2016 Poem of the Day
Leaves talking - Poetry Contest N/A
Sponsor John Lawless
Categories:
abject, autumn, sound, tree,
Form:
Couplet
I am very pleased to present a fourth collaboration, this time in rhyme
with my dear friend Lawrence Sharp, a truly exceptional poet.
.
Thank you, Lawrence, for your great inspiration
and ongoing fellowship.
Ancient Hero, Firm And Honorable Til Death
Twas not roses painted bright red upon his shield
he that with great courage refused to ever yield;
with beating heart and full faith in his saving God
slayed monstrous beasts, going where only heroes trod
with no complaint of hardest sacrifices made,
he gave back no ground and bright red-blood wet his blade.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay'.
Decades flown by, great battles fought under red sun
bravery gave strength to finish what was begun;
strongest spirit with true soul to match and hold true
to the solemn vows and painful costs surely due
his right arm, servant of Light, Truth and Divine God,
with love of family and his faith, his firm rod.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay.'
War's end, dusk of last decade under cloud's cover
would be pride and pain greatest to lifelong lover;
fiercest and most wicked was the very last foe,
The Serpent King blithely cast gods and angels low;
most prized the triumph or most abject the defeat,
in driving rain the greatest challenge he would meet.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay'.
Unclean was the battle and untold was its cost,
lives of men and monsters were sacrificed, not lost;
The Ancient Hero stood and faced The Serpent King,
final bloody battle he knew would bring death's sting;
perished with his bane, war's demons and gods destroyed,
mightiest foe with him he took into the void.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay'.
A collaboration with Lawrence Sharp
9th November 2018
Categories:
abject, art, inspirational,
Form:
Rhyme
In the shrine of my soul,
In the cathedral of contemplation.
In the temple of tenacity,
In the mosque of mercy…
Beside the rushing riven river,
Beside the thundering towers of waterfalls,
Beside the immeasurable leagues of a lagoon…
Above the depths of despair,
Above the abyss of abject misery…
On the shores of a sea of self-doubt.
As close to me as my heartbeat,
Nearer to me than my own blood,
Concerned beyond the call of loyalty
About my welfare…
The state of my psyche…
And the health of my heart.
That is where you are,
Where you remain,
Where I will always find you:
Precious Friend.
Categories:
abject, appreciation, dedication, devotion, friendship,
Form:
Free verse
She said, if I correctly recall,
That, for her, a sustaining love is an
Absolute prerequisite for what
Would be a total commitment of the
Coupling bodies...and all that
Constitutes the essential parts of the
Eternal Soul;
And I not so assuredly competent
In this - the practice of such a higher
Art!
Adding, some little time later, that
Being so chained, in what she described
As an unfortunate consequence of a
Most regrettable thrall,
To a domineering Harlequin who,
When mindlessly exercising the upper
Whip hand, had neither modest restraint
Or any amount of unimpassioned
Self-control,
Was, in fact, just a flagrant excuse
For a base lust;
Of course this was not to be confused
With the laudable and gallant actions
Conceived within the inner workings
Of a steadfast and more openly honest
Heart.
And was I convinced that I was indeed
Sincere in all my avowed pledges?
And did I truly understand that all her
Troubled life she had tirelessly
Searched for one such as I purported
To, somehow, seemingly be?
How I instantly can bring to mind
Those obscure and doubting mutterings...
Still carrying upon an ill wind I
Should not wonder;
I think of them like the songs of the
Naiads: what woefully remaining
Sounding endlessly above the glassy
Tinkling of a mystical lakeside's
Stiffened and shuffling Sedges;
You a modern-day Danae, infant Perseus
Clutched to your swollen breast, your
Little box, in all its abject
Loneliness, now set adrift upon some
Desolate and open sea.
What turned out, in the end, to be a
Pointless charade. Perhaps; but that
Which, despite shortening periods, whilst
Enduring felt almost timeless.
Then of course this shared guilt...
That will, shamefully I fear,
Forever bind us.
Categories:
abject, destiny, relationship,
Form:
Rhyme
I did a video of a poem that was Poem of the Week. Here is the link to the original poem.
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/too_much_sadness_for_me_711084
With all that is happening around us in the world today, I'm always reminded that a better day is coming....a day when there will be no more sorrow, mourning, sickness, or death. That day is coming soon. I believe it. Hope you enjoy the video. :)
Too Much Sadness for Me
there's too much sorrow...
don't you know
we are all going to die
a starting point always beckons a finish
sooner or later
no matter how
peaceful or painful
that final moment may be
you see...
it will come
for you
for me
There's too much sorrow
war
betrayal
so much I have seen
sickness sapping away
the mother-daughter moments
meant for me...
She struggled bravely
to set my fears free
But MS wouldn't let her be
My Mama left me
There is too much sorrow
the pain of being unloved
of trying to fit in
of trying to play the game
of success and fame
it all comes at a cost
so much is lost...
sacrificial moments
meant for family
There is too much sorrow
refugee misery
nowhere to be
no home
no destiny
just abject poverty
hearts left hungry
for a love
that the world
will not let them see
There is too much sorrow
tonight my heart is heavy
I'm tired of goodbyes
I'm tired of trying to fit in
I'm tired of pretense
I'm tired of...me
There is too much sorrow
Eyes are blurring
I can't see
the last lines I'm meant to write
Too tired to fight
Survival more than it's pumped up to be
Sleep....obliviousness of a dream
sweet it seems to me
you see...
There is too much pain
So write...
write for me
of happy
of make believe
of heaven
and eternity
of no pain
or misery
of no abuse
or fatality
of no tears
or cruelty
no more death
for you
no more death
for me
can't you see?
Write of happy...
Please, there is too much sadness here
for me....
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Categories:
abject, truth,
Form:
Free verse
Inexpert at rhyme
or singing in time
I bray like a laryngitic donkey
my artwork's inept
I'm ham-fisted except
when doodling things that are wonky
Of style I'm bereft
my feet are both left
splayed in an opposite direction;
'tis little wonder
I blindfully blunder
into despair and abject dejection
My mind is a bog
of gunk and cheap grog
my gray matter's shrinking, I fear
today is a haze
yesterday a maze
and everything's clearly unclear
My dress sense is eish
and fits not my niche
nor do my shorts, come to that
my flip-flops are worn
my t-shirts all torn
one boob is fat, one is flat!
Despite many a flaw
I'm not an eyesore
though ungainly and lacking in style
with my stunning good looks
I easily hooked
your soon-to-be-ex with my smile
Categories:
abject, introspection
Form:
Rhyme
Christmas with Christ – Melchoir’s Story
Wondrous symbols and signs appear in the heavens,
heralding that an amazing event is about to happen…
the birth of a royal child in the town of Bethlehem,
one who will transform the world and make it whole again.
Guided by the light of a strange brilliant star,
I and my companions travel by night from afar.
We come to pay homage to this newborn Jewish King,
this Prince of Peace who will save our world from sin.
We wonder, how can this be, when all we see
are such wretched signs of abject poverty?
Joseph, Mary, and Lord Jesus, the little Baby,
sheltered with oxen, sheep, and lamb in a stable.
But we three kings humbly fall on our knees in wonder,
bowing our heads and giving our hearts to this Babe so tender.
Sensing we’re in the midst of a divine, royal presence,
Gaspar, warm brown eyes aglow, gifts Him rare frankincense.
Noble Balthazar, his dark chocolate skin glistening,
presents Him with aromatic, rich myrrh, for anointing;
and I, Melchoir, entranced by this miraculous sight,
bring precious gold to worship Him, this Child of Light.
Holding the Babe in my arms, there're no words to be said;
but as I cuddle Him closely, I’m overcome with intense dread.
For in a vision, I can clearly see Him suffering years ahead;
He’s nailed to a wooden cross, wearing a bloodied crown of red.
Impulsively, I’m tempted to hide Him in my warm cloak of gold,
and help Him escape from a fate that’s been foretold.
While history will see me as only one of Three Wise Men,
none will ever know that I could’ve changed fate right then.
But wisely I realize that it’s not for me to decide
whether this innocent Child shall live or be crucified.
I only know I must not interfere, but leave Him to fulfill
His Messianic destiny, by carrying out God’s divine will.
So while sadly, reluctantly, for the Orient I must depart,
I also leave with happiness and great hope in my heart,
as my vision also revealed, there’s redemption in His blessed birth;
and there'll be good will toward all men and Peace on Earth!
11-22-2015
Categories:
abject, christmas, jesus, joy, peace,
Form:
Rhyme
Death, I'm told to be frightened of you,
you should be one of my greatest fears.
But you'll come no matter what I do,
followed by abject anguish and tears.
Your actions are portrayed as a crime
in your sinister cowl, grave and stark.
For history's maligned you through time;
a reaper of life, shrouded in dark.
I see no malice within your deed,
you're as essential to life as birth.
Wisdom is born of logic and need,
and I've come to understand your worth.
We wear mortal bodies like a suit,
tailored to fit ego and belief.
But our souls are in constant pursuit
of release, our time here is so brief.
You bring closure when life has to end,
opening doors for souls to walk through.
And I think of you more as a friend;
for life could not exist without you.
Categories:
abject, death, feelings, heaven, how
Form:
Quatrain
Another hungry, homeless child will die
Parents have no job, no food, no insurance
Undernourished pregnant woman cry,
The Feds give only lip-service assurance.
Most people think it can’t happen here
That welfare supports these pitiful cases,
But, folks, I tell you many live daily in fear
Here in America … in the forgotten places.
In the backwoods no hospitals even exist
Medical help is a long-drive-by-car away,
If they don’t show up, they’re off the list
Forgotten until a tragedy comes their way.
We think everyone has it as easy as we do
Taking little notice of those in abject poverty
Seldom worrying about making it through,
Neglecting to think about life’s other reality.
Written August 12, 2022
POEM OF THE DAY
Poetry Soup
August 13, 2022
#52 on Best New Poems List
Poetry Soup
October 1, 2022
Categories:
abject, fear, perspective, places, poverty,
Form:
Quatrain
Sagely silent woman half smiles
Man blathers on and on and on
Abject grief traveled many miles
Death has come to their precious son
Solemn church has six empty aisles
This brave soldier has long been gone
Sagely silent woman half smiles
Man blathers on and on and on
Dressed up child looks at dull gray tiles
Wishing she could blink and be gone
Outside window a gentle fawn
A teen's cell phone now butt dials
Sagely silent woman half smiles
Categories:
abject, soldier,
Form:
Roundel
I am very pleased to present a fourth collaboration
with great poet and friend, Robert Lindley.
Only Robert's mighty pen and personal encouragement
could possibly have inspired me to venture
beyond my more familiar Free Verse.
Thank you, Robert, for your great inspiration
and ongoing fellowship.
Ancient Hero, Firm And Honourable Til Death
A collaboration with Robert Lindley
9th November 2018
Twas not roses painted bright red upon his shield
he that with great courage refused to ever yield;
with beating heart and full faith in his saving God
slayed monstrous beasts, going where only heroes trod
with no complaint of hardest sacrifices made,
he gave back no ground and bright red-blood wet his blade.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay'.
Decades flown by, great battles fought under red sun
bravery gave strength to finish what was begun;
strongest spirit with true soul to match and hold true
to the solemn vows and painful costs surely due
his right arm, servant of Light, Truth and Divine God,
with love of family and his faith, his firm rod.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay.'
War's end, dusk of last decade under cloud's cover
would be pride and pain greatest to lifelong lover;
fiercest and most wicked was the very last foe,
The Serpent King blithely cast gods and angels low;
most prized the triumph or most abject the defeat,
in driving rain the greatest challenge he would meet.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay'.
Unclean was the battle and untold was its cost,
lives of men and monsters were sacrificed, not lost;
The Ancient Hero stood and faced The Serpent King,
final bloody battle he knew would bring death's sting;
perished with his bane, war's demons and gods destroyed,
mightiest foe with him he took into the void.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay'.
Categories:
abject, allegory,
Form:
Rhyme
O' What Is War But The Mad Child Of Greed And Hate
By uppity arrogance the mouse challenges the lion
And his haughty crown is fused nickel and tin
But 'tis true dark-clad world has far too much cryin'
All brought about by hungry appetites of mad men.
Mankind does not admit arrogance of the womb.
Truth of utter despair of lying in a tomb.
O' what is war but the mad child of greed and hate
Armies march blindly into destruction and death
But crazy leaders love to foolishly tempt dark Fate
As they parade puffed up and plan with whispered breath.
Mankind does not admit arrogance of the womb.
Truth of utter despair of lying in a tomb.
History shows its results, tragic dark dying
And the abject misery needlessly born
With those at home fearful and hearing the lying
From government and politicians we should scorn!
Mankind does not admit arrogance of the womb.
Truth of utter despair of lying in a tomb.
Such bitter conflict indeed does some heroes show
And we here at home do acknowledge their brave deeds
We poets may even polish them til they glow
Sad, all that does is fertilize war's future seeds!
Mankind does not admit arrogance of the womb.
Truth of utter despair of lying in a tomb.
Is it true, war is fruits of arrogance and pride
That mankind has dark-set violence born within
Sure, such blatant truth we in vain so try to hide
Dare we not admit, that it is a tragic sin!
Mankind does not admit arrogance of the womb.
Truth of utter despair of lying in a tomb.
Robert J. Lindley, Rhyme
June 3rd 1973
Note: 9-12-2023
Vietnam War is the reason this poem is composed.
Our guys coming back either dead or else so gravely wounded.
Note: 6-03-1973
I turned 19 this year. I'd rather not be drafted to fight a war that
is not fought to win. Besides war is evil.
Categories:
abject, abuse, conflict, death, deep,
Form:
Rhyme
I am very pleased to present a third collaboration with Robert Lindley,
an extraordinary poet who inspires and humbles me with his pen.
A Collaboration With Robert Lindley
27th October 2018
The root of the melancholy
he has not always known,
and perhaps, with strangers
and with unknown strangeness,
he has embraced its love
and loved its hateful wounds.
He prides the strength resting his bones,
the iron-glove that wields power grasped
in his haste to taste its honeyed glow,
anticipation seeds ever greater destruction
as horrific night dreams eat into oblivion.
The root of the melancholy
she has occasionally known,
and surely, among bitter foe
and boon companions lost,
she has lurched painfully from it
and pained herself yet more.
Blind to the curse, she begs for more
sharpening blades to spew the red,
eager for battle yet fearful the result
she prays dark gods lend power, not gold,
as dawn awaits its inevitable relief.
The wounds of devils not false
but gods surely true
persist within the marrow
of abject, seething, mortal slaves,
and morbidly caress and torment,
and the leaves are bitter as the root.
For in realms of dark - thirst so consumes
that even the chaff born from regret,
this the black seeds do replenish;
ever deeper moans from heartache and woes
resounding echoes from piercing stabs.
The hex is feverish as its birth.
Categories:
abject, allegory,
Form:
Free verse