Best Bewailing Poems
I did not know how brave
she was, ninety-two,
and I, seventy less...
so young that old age
was textbook stuff:
a fact of life, but not mine.
I was alive and free
to stride the world,
a colossus of youth--
whereas she had ate
almost a century:
and all her friends
and all her family
lay dead somewhere,
except in her mind,
still crisp, poignant
in its memories...
of a wealthy husband,
a daughter dead young,
her own youth and her
beauty remaining lonely
in a silver-framed photo.
She never complained,
this old lady--never once
did I hear lamentations,
a bewailing for the lost
richness of life:
that ripe fullness
she must have once felt
as a wife, a mother,
a woman of grace and beauty,
a living queen in her time.
Now she lived alone in a cold
basement flat, standing barely
five feet tall--yet I've never known
any being braver. But it is only now,
when I am become old myself,
that I envy such courage.
[rec'd n/a in Brian Strand's #2 contest, judged 6/29/20]
Underwater where sound
carries much farther
the bustling of fish feeding
awakens the whales
tis morning above
frigates are moving
their noise like fright rising
all the sea's creatures
suffer it's passage
from shore into deep water
filling the oceans and seas
noise pollution is deafening
the whales by nature
swim towards the quietus
mass strandings before them
dolphins lead the way
facing an unheard of escape
frigates grow larger
and the new are born to it
the bewailing
that ear splitting deprivation
our cloud of disquiet
at sea level up on it
above the drone of ships
onboard under Cetus
no hue or cry is made of it
the devastating consequences
of 1087 feet per second
beating soundly to extinction
all that lives below
while humans draw power from it.
Sweet summer winds, hear me
Ne’er endure this bewailing daybreak
For where whether not daylight rises
Now silenced eternal under prettified blossoms
Sleeps that sweet beauty that defined me.
Under the dimly faded blanket of Gaia
In the blanched obsidian void of memory
Her slowly fading voice of once yesterdays
Never again to behold tomorrows promise
Or the faint blushing of a passionate today.
Just as with the finality of her passing
So to must I forge into the imminent
Over muted gray landscapes I must trod
Where ardors drying tarns now reflect me
Eroding under slow eyes of time…
As I linger waiting for him to claim me
She lies peaceful, only I, to grieve.
carried by the wind, where have you been the lonely soul
who returned to the riverside; and now, why are you asking
the way to Erebus to the swaying reeds over and over again
with the sighs deeper than the bottom of the water
with the sighs more than the countless stars in the sky
for growing tired from seeking the way too far,
the lonely soul stayed for a while in the valley
where the flowers bloom in the early evening’s soft sunlight;
however, the touch of cold starlight at dawn makes the flowers
withered in the chilling dew drops before sunrise; the valley where
the lonely soul dwelt may be the way to Erebus where he once roamed
after all, as if pushed by the high wind,
the sorrowful soul left hurriedly
in the way of no need for haste,
and crossed over the river that carries no promise,
counting the days without tomorrow
now is the time to let your eyes close to rest the lonely soul
let, therefore, the tormenting soul, the pointless eyes
that always seek something but aimlessly
to put an end their wandering
although once you cross the river named no-pathos
nothing can be seen even if you turn your face back
or return to the world where your footprints may still remain
or to restore what you have left in the opposite shore,
why don’t you, therefore, close the eyes
even though no one follows with bewailing your departure
or holds your trembling hand with tearful eyes
even though it’s a lonely journey
the miserable funeral to the nether world
why don’t you close your eyes while crying with the drifting water
while listening to the dirge
the murmuring water chants in a sorrowful tone
Writing upon the scroll,
year after year
day after day
the monk lives for the painted work
He prays and draws
He prays and writes
Eloquent brushstrokes
fall like soldiers into place.
Who can say that
not an inch beneath them
lies an army of letters
too vulgar for the eye to see
too forbidden for the soul to taste.
Lost in his set serenity, the monk
takes no heed of the bewailing clamour
the ships, the heathen helmets and the crowd.
Lost in his world he covers
the threatening set of words,
ignoring that in seconds
he'll be a hidden palimpsest
a human palimpsest
beneath
a crust of curdled blood.
Wind swifts across the leaves that fall in the arid ground
Rain drops falls from the sky as bewailing your demise
Dark clouds gloom the firmament evoking a somber air
A red flower bud blooms as a great promise of a new life
Nayda Ivette
12-12-2015
His eyes were like eagle's, telescopic and sharp
reflexes came easy, time seemed to warp
a warrior in battle, his bullets caused pain
life left them swiftly those that were slain
war was his master he felt no guilt
he laughed with his buddies, all the "beer" they had spilt
but now peace was his master, the nightmares began
the war had been over, so why doesn't it end?
the mind is a mystery, it stored all the horrors
now he's strung out on dope bewailing the sorrows
he suffered no injury during the war
but drugs were more deadly, deadly by far
its hard to believe, just a short time ago
this warrior in battle, a hero you know
then I heard "taps," playing softly, a final salute
a warrior a soldier just died in his youth
Kites hanging on the winds the enchantment, simplicity ... warning swirling whooshing about amid the humble Streams in the Spring ... . Time jovial, patient Offering Loving thief it weeps ... ! Burnt down roses their thorns once bewailing the Cherry Tree are no more ... !" The gift of life, a mix of simple treasures fond memories horrors those things, indefinite.
One lie barters another lie any old Time you know Time cannot fully
know fix it except knowing through Faith ... ones security is sewn solely through Grace tic tock ... tick ... tock ... !
I'd barter a better deal now I'd say with my Mother Brother Daughter Father, Sister Son — for a brighter day with them — better than walking alone don't you think? Invoking Gods Mercy each one upon the other working together remaining unified one heartbeat left alone dancing gingerly, laughing ... "and so it is for all of us our same choice today I believe."
Of Honor and Glory Chivalry; precise Vermin Indistinguishable Saints, it's sad some lilies still lay fallen dying that's why I picked them fresh each day for them all ... my ex's ...
Sunday drives night crawler hunting glad days grab bags Fishing Poles Grandpa rocking away in his lowly old rocking chair Moccasins Slippers in hand standing on the front Porch ready.
Football games I believe are meant to be played, hardened in the rain ... . The final score who knows ... cares ... ? I know Time runs on by you if you're not looking ... ! Heads up looks like Fate is throwing out another pass for us ... ! Yes you know we might want to go long ... !
In the beginning, my life was a whirlwind of mixed emotions, longing to reveal
their true selves. As they built up inside of me, I was gasping for the feeling of
stillness and a serene moment, I was touched by heaven's angel, I began to
know a slight warmth overwhelming me. Though my heart and soul were trying to
reach the surface of hope to breathe a breath of relief from all of the long before
chaos. Many hidden feelings were and now are seeping through the many faces
of me. As I take a yearn for journey through steep and narrow but comforting
ways, I now come towards the end of this distressment and see the clear path
now taken... As it was lit for me as a sign brought from my own profound vitality, a
future known to be remembered by ones who can survive a lifetime of troubles
with undying affection from loved ones, ones who can face the trials ahead with
their head held high and insecurities and downfalls on low, years ahead to look
forward to, to pursue my dreams untold. To become someone who is
considerate and mindful of others impression, judgment, and beliefs, someone
who will achieve the impossible, and is known to mankind. As I get older, I
become more conscious of my surroundings and known of my past errors, I
once was and still maybe full of regret which I am not sure of, as it still may linger
in the presence of my soul. My elapsed 4 years ago will always remain in me. For
it will never leave me, as the abidance of the corrupt moment lives within me
always. As that special person was my guardian, counselor and mother. Many
reflections run through my mind, they scatter and separate while bewailing over
the losses and revive my thoughts of the gains throughout these years. The one
someone who is and always wil be my matriarch with wings. This is the existing
hope of her during my inner beliefs, for these are the many memories....
“But woe is me, oh lament!” ~ Roger Whittaker.
Since you’ve been gone, my love,
Lo, my mournful heart…
how it pines for you!
This melancholy dusk
this smothering loneliness
this bewailing wind
and this foreboding mists,
As the shadows deepen
my longing grows deeper.
Since you have been gone
in the quiet, I lament.
O my love, I pray
do come back
to soothe my hurting heart
to console my sorrowful soul?
If not to appease my yearning heart,
At least come
to lull this moaning moon
for the teary stars of the night skies
Oh, do come back
to enliven this mournful milieu.
When a wayward gust of wind sweeps by
the rustling of the leaves
startles me and in a fit of sullenness
I begin to wonder…
Did you just pass me by?
~03/14/23
~Contest: Writing Challenge "L" words
~Sponsor: Constance La France
FRIENDS OF THE EARTH
It is separated from different parts of the world
Searching to nobody but for hostility
Relations will be shared
In the society
Friends of the earth
It will happen no more betrayal
But getting what we ask, request and need
For no reasons and trial
The back of ours will be pared
Friends of the earth
Respects of what we’ve, in what we preserve
The shadow of the tradition will shine from and too far
Bewailing to the ones wearing white mask
Let us do what we prefer
Friends of the earth
clothes rent worn sackcloth foggy divided shades
gallivant the Gwerthrynion dynasty ruling Powys, Vespasian's
Caesarea a Roman colony Severus' matropolis Origen's elegance, incensed
Bassus' treatise an acephalous treatise written Atilius Fortunatianus wrote
an Eucharistic moon celebrated sons of nobles bewailing succeeding riots Persius' poems
Bassus edited captured Caesarea a Hasmonean king gesticulated stories
favourable to Agathocles, Paetus to Armenia consul 61 surrendered to Parthians
Syria's governor appointed in 70 dirt Commagene's kingdom invaded annexed
to Rome in 72 smiles posed Agathocles' sackcloth hanged shaded
prophesies comfortable cakes offered to Demeter, Persephone prostrated
Eusebius' days of harvest cakes are delicious are sacrificial
given sacrificed animals acephalous animals athirst wearing no
clothes dadouchos Callias extravagant Callias victorious ?f????t?? fallen
over Spartan holites proxenos Callias funeral obscured, frustrated
Vitellius, frowning fighter's quizzical eyes, simple Vespasian vexed
flipped, obliged Titus to worship Vespasian, lost virginity partially
1.What world recompenses rain?
Kind unexpects nothing.
2.Earned wealth is to
help the deserving.
3.Rare to find anywhere
as helping acquiescent.
4.Gracious befitting alone lives
others classed dead.
5.Wealth of befitting wise
as people lake.
6.Righteous’ wealth, as ripe
fruit-tree at mid-village.
7.Nobles’ wealth is like
reliable medicinal tree.
8.Acquiscents never fail helping
even fortune drains
9.Complaisant becomes poor, bewailing
inability of bestowing.
10.Co-operating complaisant sell even
self, overcoming poverty
…………………………………
Dedicated to Thiruvalluvar(31B.C), the author in Tamil
Translated by S.Kandasamy, MUSIRI, TAMILNADU, INDIA
Published in poetry.com on 13-12-13
Apologize to God
And make your atonement
Be ashamed
And contrite
Be so deeply sorry
Bewailing your discretion
Feeling all the remorse
In deploring your sins
Relent these acts
And reproach yourself
Seeing the error of your ways
So filled with sorrow
Have many qualms
As you lament these deeds
Feel every regret
And begin to reform
De Mask of Tomorrow
ìbòjú ?la
Fiddling with the freckle petals
revealed a hidden grin
with frightful fangs
dripping off hateful bile
we ponder about tomorrow
waiting to pounce
with vengeful anger
on each sorrowful souls
gorged on all sides
by constant burdens
he was meant to stumble
bewailing his flustered solace
with his bending wills
he was meant to fumble
with the clouds
dropping its curtains
he was meant to fail