Best Anticlimax Poems
Running cracks of lead flaked paint, spiders across the front door like a grandfather's
forehead.
Its hinges squeal from years of inattention and forgotten maintenance
Floor boards moan a song of dismemberment and forgotten age
While musty gloom thickens the air – inhibiting, restricting, compressing breaths
Entrance ways lead to hallways which culminate and connect enclosed spaces,
hovering in an atmosphere of haunt and mourn
Conversations linger, echoing within walls of dine and feast
settings arranged from ritual –
two plates,
two bowls,
two cups,
two knives,
two spoons,
two forks,
two napkins,
two chairs,
with only voice and ephemeral trace.
Twisted unleveled stairs, escalate to second stories
letters to love and hate cover ancient mourning boards.
Segmented space divides the infant from maturation.
Cracked spine, chipped rails, exposing the wooden crib core
Superficial angst and rage characterizing the infant's facade,
yet delicate love exposed in clean white linens pressed and laid in perfection
sets the bedding stage for stuffed bears and embroidered blankies
Toppled bookcase defecates bound knowledge across adult wooden bed frame
disheveling sheets, rugs, and right angles,
its half fallen posture exposes entrance way to hidden passages.
Between walls, moving slow as not to catch thread to exposed nail, pipe, or wire
shoulders grazing support beams, pace entranced by flattening florescence bulbed ceilings
Each step enclosing space tighter and tighter
Climax turns to anticlimax as exit opens to
a hermetic cell of textural paint echoing skin blotched and boiled.
Surrounding walls of tattered gold, ulcer red and puss filled purple,
each based with blotched skin.?Encircles full length mirror exposing views of deceased
discomfort –
Black glass glows within frame of ornate wood
spiking and curling with baroque transcendence
Reflecting back a ghost of future deceased persona.
Categories:
anticlimax, artlove, space,
Form:
Ekphrasis
Two Dogs at the Gateway
By Sy Roth
They slurped their saliva,
huge globs,
big, barking mouthfuls
dripping from their jowls like milky icicles
Teeth-bared lips,
They guarded the gateway.
Pleased by their vacated spittle,
their noses now sniffed the air, and
like a marching band of electric ants
they ogled the nearing invader.
Anew, the soppy, conglomeration of spittle
wells at their muzzles
forming a frothy milkshake
determined to expel the approaching trespasser.
His hands stretched out flat in peaceful kindness,
prophylactic, heavy-breathing
moseying him to the gateway
wraps him in a pulsing eagerness.
A satyr’s blessing upon him as he approaches
Where the two dogs growled ominous presentiments--
Twin Cerberuses,
Headache kin of dashed wishes.
Evening shadows stifle all desires.
Lips part in anticlimax.
He rolls to the other side
away from the yapping hounds,
away from the uncomfortable pauses,
away from the anticipation
onto a sterile, flattened field
where done yet reeks of a flaccid fantasy.
A grotesquery of mordant imagination
content to sleep on the other side of the booming roar
away from the slurping beasts,
he drops hands down to his side.
Tomorrows march on and the gateway,
a finale wrapped in the twins’ slurping,
slams shut.
Categories:
anticlimax, anxiety, death,
Form:
Free verse
I lay down to sleep
with the lovely lilts of rain
and the soft whisper of wind in my ears
At some unearthly hour
wakened up from sleep
by howls and shrieks
I don’t know when the rain and wind
turned into a tumultuous roar
and why I failed to notice
the windows turning on their hinges
and the doors snap open and shut
When I woke up, I saw
the land inundated
trees arm twisted and splintered
hanging limp in lifeless mass
beleaguered by wind's foul game
and the leaves still shedding
drops of tears!
( This happened yesterday night)
Sep.1.2022
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Categories:
anticlimax, betrayal, night, rain,
Form:
Free verse
Dawn hurls
Wet dark clouds;
Hidden sun beams
~~~~~~~~~
Rain pours
Wetness paints well;
Greenery revives
~~~~~~~~~
Umbrellas open
Random feet rush;
Rain escalates
~~~~~~~~~
Dreary weather
Coldness wets;
Watery puddles everywhere
~~~~~~~~~
Drenching aqua
Windy wild wetness;
Stormy morning
~~~~~~~~~
Bus-stop shelter
People cluster;
Cold humanity
~~~~~~~~~
Happy faces
Cold morning rain;
Childish frolic
~~~~~~~~~
Old newspaper vendor
Walkway corner;
Makeshift stand
~~~~~~~~~
Bearish feelings loiter
Talk of hard times;
Weak economy
~~~~~~~~~
Bad news again
Abrupt change pours;
Stress flings climax
~~~~~~~~~
Hunting prey
Pray for success;
Paradoxical
~~~~~~~~~
Words work wonders
Telling times;
Anticlimax booms
~~~~~~~~~
January jumps
Cheeky cascades;
Tough tensile treats
~~~~~~~~~
Laughter lifts
Sensuous sway;
Dizzy dazzle
~~~~~~~~~
Plumeria blooms
Wet rainy blur;
Hidden agendas
~~~~~~~~~
Simple sensations
Coldness escalates;
Shivering wetness
~~~~~~~~~
Words echo
Feelings etch;
Fresh aqueous day
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
23 January 2017
Singapore
Categories:
anticlimax, change,
Form:
Haiku
visions of himself
a life of broken fragments
palette toned sepia.
a sense of menace
depresses anticlimax
master of his moods.
he realizes
not all quests are quixotic
some are doomed to fail.
Categories:
anticlimax, dark, life,
Form:
Senryu
Goodbye then.
We have closed the book and
replaced it on the shelf.
Dog eared pages straightened.
Tens of thousands of words
read, spoken, stored for posterity.
Goodbye then.
No longer a working title,
but an archive which will
gather dust in the annals of time.
Maybe one day to be discovered,
like some ancient tomb.
Goodbye then.
Remember when we began the story?
The newness, the excitement and
anticipation at what would unfold.
Spellbound by adventure, mesmerized
by speculation as each word became exposed.
Goodbye then.
All done. Story complete.
No more surprises, just the
anticlimax of finality.
The eerie silence of conclusion.
A lingering pause, one last look, a smile -
The end.
Categories:
anticlimax, loss,
Form:
Free verse
The employee took out these pizzas and put them on desks at the hall. No sooner had the pizzas popped into the gofers' eyesights than seething salivas (imaginary or real) bursted out of their mouths, and subsequent scenes were a vivid illustration of how these mostly duplicitous gofers actually preferred adversaries' cold comfort to their own leader's hot air, exactly through their relinquishment of proper positions one after another in a short while. Miraculously, throughout the corridor, both up and down the stairs, all around the SCIF site, pervasive predominance was handed over by previous hustling, hectoring, harangue and huffishness to straightaway slurp, maundering, digression and dissipation.
Uptight mobile devices, boldly swayed and swirled by their respective handlers as flagrant confidentiality solicitors, shifted their universal characteristics from fussy flash and light to monotonous darkness and dormancy before slipping back into each pocket, together with carefully or cursorily recorded footages. The storm receded so fast that Hauptman Mutt Gaets could find favor with no timely niche to set in any redemptive steps. He turned to preparations for media slot instead, in hope of smoothing out the unanticipated anticlimax.
Categories:
anticlimax, betrayal, funny,
Form:
My door is decked with holly and pine,
The larder’s stocked with fancy food and wine.
Tiny lights twinkle on bannister and tree,
Dozens of cookies to bake, if there’s time free.
Knitting needles flash for each gift,
Presents need wrapping, but my spirits lift,
As I look forward to visitors sharing
This season of love and caring.
Corny old movies to see,
Golden retriever cards sent to me.
Dog cookies and jerky too I’ll bake,
For my goldies to greedily take.
Singing with joy old carols,
Especially if peace they herald.
Holiday parties at friends’ homes,
Catching up with others an excuse to roam.
But after the hubbub a chance to relax,
Wine and pellet stove a soothing anticlimax.
A good book awaits on summer paddling fun,
‘Twill transport me to the season of sun.
So here’s wishing you such happy fun,
Once the bustling about is done.
May love and joy fill your holiday season,
Fond memories made for any reason.
MRT 12-21-15
Categories:
anticlimax, food, holiday, joy, love,
Form:
Sonnet
Poetic Form: Rhyme/Footle/Shape or Concrete
Inspired: 2024 January 09. As per sample supplied by sponsor.
. "When Each
Man woman, and child
are not born to be wild
there will be love and
laughter and peace
ever after. When
hate ceases
to be, free
. we will
all be
X" ~~Quote by The Poet~~
Couplet - Rhyme:
Friends respond,
Transcends go beyond.
Missing piece,
Kissing release.
Needs prayer,
Seeds fair,
Sew strong,
Grow belong,
Peace resumes,
Cease booms.
Footle:
Peace
Release
Unarm
No Harm
Calm
Psalm
Pure
demure
anticlimax
Relax
Love
One above
dream
scheme
moonbeam
stream
gleaming
beaming
tranquility
ability
faith
Wraith
Transcend
Befriend
Shape:
A L
E. x L.
W x P
. x R
P x x x A
E x x x Y.
A x x x R
C x O
E. * F
Categories:
anticlimax, peace,
Form:
Rhyme
Chemistry infuses
Grains of solace
Forecast
Passion illuminates
Forbearance wakes
Queries
Affirmation ejects
Anticlimax occurs
Siren
Categories:
anticlimax, life, loss,
Form:
Verse
Edna Purcell
1912-1930
Dying a virgin was the least of my regrets.
Dying a chaste woman at 18 seemed a moot point.
I remember watching my momma die.
It was in summer, and I was 16.
Hopelessly disconsolate, that’s how I felt;
How would I live without her?
Why was she so cruelly taken from me?
How did she get so sick?
My demise, then, was the anticlimax of my short sad life.
Oh cruel Fate, you!
I despise your insatiable appetite for shattered lives;
Indeed, I spit on you for all the ill-timings and bad luck.
I spit on your wry smile, lurking there,
Behind the shadowy trellis,
Of private episodes with flowers and silk;
You, with those arrogant knowing glances,
Those imploding muscular arms of private desperation.
I died a virgin indeed, never having you,
Died with an empty heart and a reeling soul.
Life was just a foolish grab for nothing;
Always seeming to have enough,
But always wanting much more.
That was life, my life in this quiet religious town.
So, I died a virgin in 1930. I was 18.
Too late for me, I guess.
All I wanted, was to spit in your face!
Oh cruel Fate, wrecker of dreams!
Categories:
anticlimax, death,
Form:
Epitaph
Mechanically inquisitive
Draped on neon tape
Absent mentality shadowing
Of ill-mannered wonder
Faceless stammering fallacies
Covering all in suffusion
Supposition oppressing
The veracity of facts
Bogus conclusions drawn
Upon a cracking rudimentary
Deriding night crawlers
Mocking the anguish
In hollering vestige
A feint of exuberance
Compels a nauseated anger
Griping my throat from the pit
A retaliating strike
Against this disease spreading
Mockery of life destroyed
Zipped and departing
In a blue flashing anticlimax
Mute eyes falling to asphalt
A revelation of mortality
The astonishment fading
In shoulder shrugged releasing
Disbanded heavy frustration
A barbaric yearning to behold
The dark car fades into the night
Liberating unnamed martyred
Silently dignified
Faceless retreating to window barred safety
The street again quiet and empty
Lulling the city back to sleep…
In self fabricated security
Categories:
anticlimax, death, life, loss, time,
Form:
Free verse
The cat is staring at something behind my back,
his pupils so large, his eyes seem black,
I see his muscles twitch and tense,
his skinny tail becomes immense.
We've played this game, the cat and I,
(although all logic it defies)
for nights and days and years untold,
what demons do his eyes behold?
So, with a sigh, I play along,
and glance behind to see what's wrong.
Of course, there's nothing there at all,
smooth plaster of my bedroom wall.
I only looked away a sec,
I barely even turned my neck,
but, true to form, the end's the same
every time we play this game.
The cat, his eyes are little slits,
his tail is not puffed up a bit,
his body's now fully relaxed,
the end, once more, an anticlimax.
I used to think it a feline quirk,
that this was how all cats' brains worked,
but once I left my haunted birthplace,
the cat's game vanished without a trace.
©Danielle White
Categories:
anticlimax, animals, childhood, mystery, petscat,
Form:
Rhyme
Chemistry infuses
Grains of solace
Forecast
Passion illuminates
Forbearance wakes
Queries
Affirmation ejects
Anticlimax occurs
Siren
Categories:
anticlimax, life,
Form:
Verse
If only the sun is forever blue and bright
I will have the perfect tan I ever wanted
And the heart will glow as shiny as the face
If only the rain drops on the driest soil
resurrect the withering flowers and dying crops
Alongside nourishing the forgotten memories
If only the thunders and lightening’s sporadic visits
Not to intimidate the dogs and cats
But to awaken the dormant sensation
If only the sunset does not overplay its perfect beauty
mesmerize the already intoxicated lovers
That the ending of the day is not an anticlimax
Rather the norm of life
Categories:
anticlimax, feelings,
Form:
Free verse